X-Files 1. Prologue

**Title:** Patience and Grace

**Rating: **This prologue is PG-13; might get more mature later on

**Summary: **I've been working on this series off and on for a long time, and am finally getting myself organized to post. A year or so after getting together romantically in the wake of her remission from Cancer, Mulder and Scully face a new challenge, brought on by Mulder's torn

**Spoilers: **Pilot, One Breath, Colony/Endgame, Memento Mori, Christmas Carol

**Disclaimer: **Characters, with the exception of Kyle, are all the property Chris Carter.

**Prequel**

No matter what she did, she couldn't sleep. She was sick of even attempting to try. For the past two nights, the bed had been too lonely, even when she propped up a ridiculous amount of pillows along her back to trick her body into thinking he was there. She dragged herself to the couch, but it smelled too much like the last time they had made love for her to slumber. She couldn't concentrate on reading, and watching television would only make her even more hyper. She glanced at the clock. 7:30 PM.

This was ridiculous, she thought. She was going Philadelphia.

_Two Days Earlier_

After a marathon performance of autopsies, all Scully could think about was home, Mulder, and a glass of red wine. By the time she dragged herself to her apartment, it was nearly eight o'clock. As soon as she walked in the door, she tripped over an unzipped carryon and a dry cleaning bag.

"Where have you been?" Mulder asked as he kicked his bag to the hallway and picked up the dry cleaning. "I thought I would see you before my flight."

Scully looked at him open-mouthed. She had completely forgot. "You're leaving tonight?"

Mulder had been invited to deliver a paper at a conference on a profile that had developed during a highly publicized case . Unfortunately, his success in profiling and arresting the perp before he had killed his sixth victim had led to more consults at his old division, which meant that Scully had been seeing more and more time in forensics. If he hadn't practically been living at her apartment, she would have never seen him over the past two months.

"My cab's outside. I'll be back Sunday afternoon," he said, bending down for a kiss. "I'll call you later."

And call he did. Their recent work separations had resulted in them practicing the art of phone sex. However, Scully craved the real deal. It was frustrating for her—they had been separated so much over the past several weeks that the last thing she wanted was another weekend apart. She was in the position to remedy the situation so she was going to seize the moment.

_Present Day_

It was after midnight by the time she reached the hotel.

"Can I help you?"

Scully hadn't realized that she must of appeared as dazed and confused as she felt. She looked around nervously, making sure there was no one she knew hanging around the lobby, even though only a handful of FBI personnel were attending. She made her way to the lobby desk, hoping that she wasn't blushing. She hadn't actually thought of what would happen once she reached the hotel. In formulating her great plan, she had gone so far as getting to Philadelphia, and then did not pick up again until she and Mulder were in bed.

Her fears were somewhat allayed when she realized that the clerk was a friendly senior citizen bearing a name tag which read Doris. "Are you meeting someone here, dear?" Scully was surprised. "I am, actually. My, um, flight got in late."

"I'll just need the party's last name," she smiled.

Now she was the one definitely blushing. "Mulder," she said. "He checked in last night."

"Ah, here is his record. I see that he's a longtime Starwood customer. He has a very low rewards member number," chatted Doris in a kindly manner.

"Since our company bought over all those motel chains, we can see exactly when and where people stay," Doris continued. "It's quite interesting to see the exciting lives our guests are living," she said with a wink.

Scully smiled, hoping that her impatience wasn't showing. "He travels a lot for work," Scully agreed, forcing a small smile. Maybe Doris was onto something—perhaps the reason Mulder had dragged her to so many horrible motels was he could hit the rewards points jackpot. She considered asking Doris how many points Mulder had, when the older woman sighed. "This is very sweet, dear."

"What?" Scully asked.

"I'm just looking at Mr. Mulder's record. It's quite romantic, really."

"What?" persisted Scully.

Doris looked up from her computer screen. "Someone made a note saying that Mr. Mulder's wife often surprises him when he travels."

"We aren't married," Scully responded, confused and agitated. Why couldn't Doris have been a no-nonsense college student who would just wordlessly hand her a keycard or had offered called up to Mulder's room?

"I didn't mean to come across so curt," Scully apologized, seeing that Doris looked taken aback. "I just had a long day, and I shouldn't have been so gruff. Could you just let me know when that note was made in his account? It's just that no one has mentioned it to me in the past."

"Our computer system only goes as far back as 1992, and I see that this particular note is one of the earliest entries. So it could be older," Doris said, somewhat suspiciously.

A wave of nausea overcame Scully. She knew that there were a dozen reasonable explanations for the note—it could have been something from an undercover case, a prank from one of the Gunmen, a one night stand. This didn't mean that Mulder was hiding a secret marriage from her.

The clattering of heels jerked Scully away from her thoughts. Someone had jointed Doris at the counter with two cups of steaming coffee. "Thought you could use the caffeine," the younger woman said to Doris. "Are you looking at Room 502's record? Isn't that sweet? I checked in the wife and son earlier today. Did they call for room service? I know they were having trouble getting dinner reservations."

Scully felt Doris glaring at her. Great, Scully thought. Now she thinks that I'm a homewrecker.

Not that she really cared.

She had much bigger problems on her hand.

She wandered to a nearby plush armchair, hoping to catch her breath. She knew that the conference existed, and that Mulder was presenting. She had bumped into Skinner at the Hoover earlier in the week, and he had mentioned that if Mulder continued to play nice with the other departments, their next budget meeting might not be as painful as usual. That was her starting point. She needed to focus on what she did know rather than what two hotel clerks who were battling through a long graveyard shift told her.

"Excuse me?"

Scully looked up, and noticed a tall boy, holding a Gameboy, approach the front desk. "I was wondering if you had any Double A batteries."

"Do your parents know you are down here?" asked Doris.

"They are 'talking' right now," the boy wryly responded, emphasizing _talking_. "In any case, I need the batteries. I have cash, or you can charge it to my Dad's room. 502."

"I'll be right back," the younger clerk said to the child.

Scully tried her hardest to not look in the boy's direction. She was tempted, and wasn't sure what would be worse—knowing or not knowing.

"Ma'am?" Doris called out to her. "Will you be checking in?"

Now Scully was really embarrassed. "No," she said softly. "Thank you for your help."

As she found her bag and turned around, making eye contact with the boy was unavoidable. She managed a nod and a small smile—a run of the mill, everyday greeting that you would give a stranger who happened to be an elementary school student or a senior citizen.

The boy had hazel eyes.

By the time she got back home to her apartment, it was nearly six am. Her mind was racing, the nausea hadn't left, and physically, she was exhausted. Somehow, she remembered the sleeping pills her oncologist had prescribed. She had refilled the last prescription, but had never opened the bottle. She took two with a swig of water, and crawled into the empty bed, praying she would fall into a dreamless sleep.

"Frohike, it's me. Turn off the tape," Mulder barked. He had been trying to reach Scully all day. He had successfully filled both her cellphone voice mail and landline answering machine with messages. If their phone sex encounter two nights earlier was any indication, she would be expecting a call. Something was wrong.

"How are you, professor?" Frohike joked. "How were your students? I'm sure you had half the female attendees show up."

"I can't get a hold of Scully. I spoke with her Thursday night, got an email on Friday afternoon, but nothing since then. I'm getting worried," Mulder said. "I don't want to have to call her mother. Trace her phone, credit cards, the works."

"We know the drill, Muldy," Frohike said. "Call me back in half an hour."

Logically, there were thousands of explanations for not hearing from Scully—she was out, her cell died, her power at home was out, she was at the movies, she was at work. But he had a sinking feeling that something was wrong.

"Damn," Frohike muttered, looking up from his computer. "Mulder, you're an idiot."

"What?" Langly and Byers asked in unison.

"Scully flew to the fair city of Philly last night, and then flew back to DC less than two hours later," explained Frohike. "She didn't check in to any hotels, but I looked up Mulder's Starwood account, and two guesses as to what was still on it, and the first guess doesn't count."

"He never changed that?" Langly asked. "Even after he and Scully started going at it?"'

"Scully probably doesn't even know. It's not like the clerks give you your life story when you check in at a hotel," Byers rationalized.

"When was the last time you checked into a hotel?" bickered Langly.

"I always knew Mulder was a glutton for self-punishment, but this goes above and beyond the call of duty," Frohike said. "It gets worse."

Byers and Langly stopped squabbling and snapped their heads in Frohike's direction.

"Yesterday afternoon, Diana Fowley checked in to Mulder's room. She then booked the room adjacent to Mulder's in her name. And then last night at 12:35 AM, a charge was made to the room."

"We still don't know what Scully knows," reiterated Byers.

"She must suspect something if she's off the radar," Langly pointed out.

"Mulder's going to be calling any minute. What do I tell him?" Frohike asked. Although Mulder could be a jerk, he was his closest friend. Weighing his friendship with Mulder against what he felt for Scully was like comparing apples and oranges at this point.

Frohike had made a promise to Mulder a few years earlier—never tell Scully about his ill-fated marriage to Diana, or about the existence of his son, Kyle. At the time, Mulder was scared. Scully had just been returned from her abduction, and Mulder was convinced that it had all been his fault. He felt that it would be safer for her to know as little as possible about his complicated relationship with his ex-wife and child, in efforts to shield all parties from future harm. The less they knew the better.

Back then, Frohike agreed with Mulder's logic. Witnessing the aftermath of Mulder choosing Scully over the Samantha clone and the agony that went with that choice, Frohike continued to protect his friend's interests. He didn't doubt for a moment that if Mulder were ever in a position in which he had to choose again, he would break. So whenever he received a phone call from Mulder, asking him to book tickets to Toronto, Orlando, the Grand Canyon, Frohike never asked questions.

Not to say it didn't make it difficult when hours later, Frohike would get a phone call from Scully. He learned to read her tones when she called, when it was okay to lie and say that Mulder was playing videogames with them; sometimes he would be so bold as to invite her over, knowing that she wouldn't call his bluff. As much as Scully was a guy's girl, she knew that the boys needed their time and space alone.

Most of the time, he would explain that he got a lead through one of their sources. That was sometimes true. Frohike estimated that about half of the famous Mulder ditches were actually day trips or overnight trips that involved seeing his son. He almost felt sorry for Mulder on more than one occasion when Scully would ream him for ditching her. Almost, but not really.

Because, in reality, what Mulder was doing was worse than ditching. He was living a lie.

_A few months earlier_

Frohike came close to breaking several months earlier, shortly after Emily's death. Scully had sounded lonely over the phone. She explained to Frohike that she had woken up in the middle of the night to an empty bed, and panicked when she realized that Mulder's overnight bag was gone. He wasn't answering his cell phone, and there was no sign of him at his apartment. The alarm bells went off in Frohike's head when he realized that Dana Scully was panicking.

"I actually just talked to him," Frohike managed to sputter out. "He didn't want to wake you. He said that you were having enough trouble sleeping. He wrote you a note but in typical Muldy fashion, he brought it with him." He even chuckled a bit for effect.

"He had to drive up to the Rhode Island house. The police called him—some neighborhood kids had broken in and they were using it as a party palace," Frohike continued to explain. They asked him to drive up today to assess the damage. He wanted to get it over with, so he left right after he got the call. He'll be back this afternoon."

"If you talk to him, let him know that I called," Scully said quietly.

"I will. And um, Scully? If you want to come over, we're all not doing much today. We even just happen to have some of your favorite beer in the fridge."

He wasn't planning on extending the invitation, and he certainly wasn't planning on her accepting it. "Maybe," she said slowly.

"Our Saturday tradition is pizza at five," Frohike said. "I'm just throwing that out there."

The boys had spent the next two hours faking police reports and tracking down Mulder. Frohike knew that Mulder turned his phone off when he was spending some quality time with Kyle, but that he checked his messages frequently. "Code red" was the extent of Frohike's voice mail, and it did the trick.

"What's wrong? What happened?" Mulder asked.

"Scully panicked," Frohike answered. "And you didn't leave that goddamned note. Luckily, you and I rehearsed our cover story."

"Shit," Mulder said. "I bet it's in the car."

"She needs you, man," said Frohike. "She sounds horrible. She's coming over here for pizza and beer, and I suggest that you make your original flight and get your ass here."

"All I wanted was to watch my son's baseball game," Mulder sighed.

"You should have told her," Frohike hissed. "Then you wouldn't be in this mess. It's not fair to her, it's not fair to your son, and it's not fair to you."

"I'm trying here, Hickey," said Mulder. "What do you expect me to say to her? Your daughter's dead so I'm off to see my kid who I for got to tell you about. Have a nice weekend? That would break her heart."

"For someone who is claiming to be self-less in this whole mess, you are a selfish prick sometimes," Frohike added. "See you at seven. And call her."

_Present day_

These thoughts left Frohike's mind as he saw the ringing phone in front of him. He looked up at Byers and Langly, who stared back at him blankly. "Hey Muldy, we're going over to her apartment now. It looks as those she's still in DC. No activity on her card this afternoon," he said, choosing his words carefully. "We'll call you with an update from there. Hang tight, it'll be fine."

Frohike noticed the hesitation on his friends' faces.

"What else was I supposed to say?" he sputtered.

"You did the right thing, Melvin," Byers answered. "Let's just go to Scully's apartment and see what's going on.

They let themselves into the apartment. Langly made a beeline to the phone. "Ringer's off," he said, before checking the messages.

Byers saw the suitcase by the door, and lifted it, noting that it was still packed. He poked his head in the living room, where he saw a pillow and blanket messily thrown on the sofa. Nothing out of the ordinary—since the "Sculdervelopment" as the trio had nicknamed Mulder and Scully's relationship shift, Scully's apartment was never as pristine as it was before her abduction. He ventured towards the bedroom—the door was open, and he saw a sleeping figure curled up on one side of the bed.

"This isn't good," Frohike said in the kitchen. Immediately, the others ran to him. He held up a prescription bottle for their inspection.

"Relax, she just took two," Byers said. "And the date on this is a year ago. She's not used to them. She probably popped them when she came in to sleep. You know she has trouble sleeping when he's not around."

"But what are they?" Langly asked, snatching the bottle from Byers.

"Sleeping pills, you dumb hippie," Frohike snapped. "Look up the prescription online. See how long it takes to get out of your system."

"Give me a second, geez," Langly muttered, off in search of Scully's laptop. He emerged from the living room a couple of minutes later. "A dose of two pills would be enough to put someone under from six to nine hours. She's more underweight than the average user, so it may be longer."

"It's five thirty now," Byers said, looking at the clock. "She probably got in around six or seven, so she should be up soon.

"I am in the room. Feel free to ask me," Scully said.

The trio whipped their heads around, looking at a yawning Scully, clad in tattered sweatpants and a grey t-shirt. "All three of you look guilty, but I don't think it's because you just went through my medicine cabinet."

A cell phone rang. Frohike looked at it. He looked up, and saw that Scully was pretending not to hear it. "I have to take a shower, and when I get back, I expect the three of you to be here."

"She's fine, Mulder," Frohike said into the phone. "She took a sleeping pill and was conked out all day. The ringers to her phones were off. She didn't look too surprised to see us."

"Thank God," Mulder muttered. "Is she sick? Can I talk to her?"

"She just went into the shower. I'll have her call you when she gets out."

"Give me the phone, Hickey," demanded Byers, who wrestled the phone away from his friend. "Mulder, it's Byers."

"What the hell is really going on? What are you guys holding out on me?" Mulder asked, absolutely panicked.

"Listen, Mulder, I don't know if it's my place to tell you or not, but Scully flew out to Philadelphia to meet you last night, and then flew back less than two hours later. We don't know anything for certain beyond that."

"Shit," Mulder muttered, punching a wall in his hotel room. He had been going stir-crazy since he had wrapped up his panel earlier that morning. "Shit."

"You knew this was going to happen at some point," Byers gently added, handing the phone back to Frohike.

"Get a sense of what she knows," Mulder began, but he was interrupted.

"No, Mulder," Frohike said. "That's your job, not ours. We protected you for as long as we could, but it's not our job to lie for you anymore. She deserves to have this conversation with you, not us."

Mulder was silent, and angry with himself. For as much as he hated to admit it, Frohike had been right all along. "She's going to want answers now," Mulder murmured.

"What do you want us to say?" Frohike asked, this time more tenderly.

"Use your judgement," Mulder said helplessly. "I'll call later. I'm getting the next flight out of this godforsaken city."

As soon as he hung up the phone, he threw it across the room. It bounced off the television console and landed on the floor with a clatter. In protecting the two people he loved most in the world, he had somehow fucked everything in his life up. He always knew that his lies would catch up with him, and now that it had finally happened, he had to think of a way to fix everything. He knew that he only had one chance to explain it all to Scully, and he had to hope that she would somehow understand why he had lied.


	2. Chapter One

_Four months later_

Mulder breathed a sigh of relief as he pulled into their destination. The eight hour drive had been peppered with traffic diversions and bottlenecks due to highway construction, but somehow they made it onto the ferry in one piece. Kyle had been practically bouncing off the walls in the back seat of the SUV, and was five dollars richer, having won a bet with his father, and hadn't asked any questions about how long it would take to get to Martha's Vineyard.

Before Mulder had even cut the engine, Kyle had bounded out of the car, running towards the back of the house. "Too bad he doesn't like it here," Mulder deadpanned as he pushed his sunglasses over his head to get a better look at his partner.

Throughout the entire drive to the Vineyard, Mulder had reminded himself again and again about how lucky he was that Dana Scully was sitting beside him in the passenger seat, arguing with him over his interpretation of some case files, during their drive to the Vineyard. Kyle loved hearing about their work, and had prepared a list of questions for the long car ride. It had been Scully's idea the night before, when they were engaged in some frantic, last-minute late-night packing the night before. Kyle's questions were distracting his father, and Scully cut in with the suggestion before Mulder went off on a tangent.

"This is a beautiful house," Scully gaped as she climbed out of the car, soaking in the picturesque scenery of the mansion and the lush grass that surrounded it. "It's huge."

"It was my grandfather's pride and joy," Mulder responded, walking over to her. "My happiest memories from growing up are all from this place. You can't see the water from here, but it's a two minute walk down the slope. I'm sure Kyle's down there right now."

He tentatively pulled her into a hug. "Thank you," he whispered.

"For what?" Scully asked quizzically, looking into his eyes to try and get a read from them.

"For being here," Mulder said quietly, taking her hands and rubbing his thumbs over them.

"I'm here because I want to be here," Scully said kindly, yet firmly.

The past few months had been bumpy, to say the least. Mulder was still haunted by the image of Scully's stricken face when he had walked through her apartment door after returning from Philadelphia ten weeks earlier. His normally stoic partner was practically shaking, and refused to look him in the eye until they were alone. The Gunmen had excused themselves, and all three had given Mulder looks of death as they filed out of her apartment. Mulder couldn't blame them, not really. He had made his bed, and was now lying in it. They had all warned him that something like this would happen, and instead of facing the problem head on, he let it get out of control.

Up until the moment that the door clicked behind Langly, Mulder had been convinced that Scully would have thrown him out before he could get a chance to be alone with her. "I owe you an explanation," Mulder began, shrugging off his leather jacket and sitting on an armchair opposite her on the couch. She looked unusually frail with bare feet, clad in flannel pajama bottoms and one of his old grey t-shirts. Her red hair was practically curly, something which he secretly loved because it usually meant they were too busy in bed for her to straighten her hair, a near-religious daily ritual which she usually undertook first thing in the morning.

Scully chewed on her lower lip, turning to face Mulder for the first time since he walked through the front door, which he had opened with his key. How could she have been so stupid, she thought. Stupid Dana, her conscience chimed, of course this relationship would have never worked out. Silly girl, falling in love with a man like Fox Mulder, giving him the key to your apartment—and your heart—without a second thought. She shut her eyes as the bile crept up her throat, trying to drown those whispers of insecurity that she had fought against most of her adult life.

"Tell me everything," she had managed to say, trying hard to not lose control of her voice. "If you want to make this work, we're staying up all night until you tell me everything. And I swear to God, if you lie, or if you leave anything out, even if I don't find out until later, I will walk away. So make your choice, Mulder."

Mulder inhaled sharply. Dana Scully, the queen of evasion, wanted them to lay all of their cards on the table. He took a moment and then followed her into the kitchen. "Do we have enough for more than one pot?" he asked.

Scully spun around, batting her hair away from her eyes. The fact that he had said 'we' was not lost on her. "We do," she softly answered.

"I'm turning off my phone," he said, sliding the device across the kitchen table island. "Nothing is going to interrupt us," he promised. He needed to make a gesture, he needed to do something that would indicate he was taking her ultimatum seriously.

"Unplug the landline?" she asked tentatively as she ground the coffee beans.

Mulder did as he had told, awkwardly leaning against the stove as he and Scully stared at the coffee slowly dripping into the carafe. "One thing," Mulder said impulsively, knowing he had to act before he talked himself out of it.

"Hmm," Scully said distractedly, still not looking at him, barely realizing that he was hovering over her, his right hand skimming her hip, while his left lightly tugged her towards him. "I need you to know how much I love you," he whispered. "It's going to get ugly, but it's going to get a whole lot better. You have to remember that."

"Mulder, you can't just—" she couldn't get out all of her words before his tongue was in her mouth. Before she realized what she was doing, she had begun to kiss him back, her body suddenly remembering that she hadn't done this in days. She cursed herself for succumbing to her instincts.

She half-heartedly pushed him away until the beep of the coffee machine interrupted them. "Stop distracting me with sex," she chided. "Not even angry sex is going to solve this."

"I wasn't trying to avoid our conversation," Mulder responded. "I promise I won't touch you again until we hash this out."

As predicted, their marathon conversation lasted through the morning, both of them propelled by three pots of coffee. Despite tears and shouting being involved numerous times, they kept at it. Mulder confessed it all—the fact that he had been married to Diana Fowley a dozen years before, and that they had a son. A son named Kyle, who was eleven years old and was curious, who Mulder loved desperately, but who lived in New York, and who he rarely was allowed to see. The divorce had been messy, but Mulder had chosen not to fight for custody because he didn't want to lose all contact with him in case he lost.

"It was the stupidest decision I ever made, not telling you about him," Mulder had confessed, sometime around four in the morning. "But I love you both too much to put you in Diana's path. She has friends, Scully, friends who are not our friends. The less you knew the better. You have got to believe me."

And she did. The Dana Scully who put such a premium on trust, honesty, and integrity, believed him as he sat, slumped on her floor, tears in his eyes, with emptiness registered on his face. Logically, she knew that if he was lying about this one huge aspect of his life, he had other secrets. But a child had been involved. If the tables had been turned, what would she have sacrificed if it meant that Emily could have been safe?

"Did you not tell me because I can't have children?" she asked, raising her voice.

"I don't know, Scully," he responded, sounding desperate.

"That's not a real answer, goddamnit," Scully shouted back. "Mulder, give me a real answer."

"Yes!" Mulder yelled decisively, sitting upright, a bolt of energy bursting through him. "Yes, I used that as an excuse not to tell you."

Scully's eyebrows arched up at the word 'excuse.'

"I broke your heart so many goddamn times by that point," Mulder yelled. "It was tearing me up inside. How could I keep sticking the proverbial knife in your back?"

And her response floored him.

Tears were running down her cheeks as she swallowed hard and said, "What have I ever done that would make you assume that I would not accept your child? How selfish do you think I really am? That's the real question—why the hell would you waste your time with me if you think I am that cold."

Mulder's eyes widened. He knew that secretly, Scully was extremely insecure about the Ice Queen talk that made its round at the Bureau, both at headquarters and at Quantico; the only refuge from those whispers was the basement, which was no longer open to them.

"Yes, Mulder, if you told me earlier, I would have been hurt, it would have been difficult, I would have cried, and I would have been angry, but I would never reject your child because through it all, I don't know why, but because I still love you," she managed to tumble the words out before burying her face in her hands.

"I never thought for a minute that you would reject him, Scully," Mulder said fiercely, knee walking to where she was on the floor, propped up against her couch. He forcefully moved her head up, cupping his hands below her chin, forcing her to stare him in the face. "That was never, ever, the reason. For the past five years, I've been snatching whatever weekends I can, whatever weeknights that are dangled in front of me on three hours' notice from Diana, with the most amazing kid. And as much as I try to concentrate just on him, and block out everything else—you, our work, even my search for Samantha—I still think about how much more fun it would be to have you with us. That a trip to the Museum of Natural History would not just be about the dinosaur exhibit because you would drag us to another wing; that you might even beat me at a contest at the planetarium to see how many constellations you can find in three minutes. And it's been hell. And I should have made different choices, but they were all driven by my crazy ex-wife, not because of you. And that's the biggest mistake I've ever made, Scully. I should have catered to you, not to her."

They fell asleep on the living room floor, crying together and hours later, Scully woke up, finding herself curled up against Mulder, clinging to him as though he was going to disappear. As she lay there, trying to process what was happening, she realized that she had woken because of the constant knocking at her front door.

"Stay," Mulder muttered in his sleep as she left his side.

"Door," she whispered.

She trudged to the front door, not bothering to look through the peephole.

"Why the fuck aren't either of you answering your phones?" Walter Skinner barked as he pushed his way into the apartment.

"Sir?" Mulder asked, groggily sitting up.

"Diana Fowley is missing," Skinner said.

"I'm here because I want to be here," Scully repeated as Mulder's eyes searched hers.

His mouth twitched, and he bent down to kiss her, only pulling away reluctantly, after Kyle announced his presence.

"Can we go swimming now?" he whined.

**NOTES:** Thanks for reading! The next chapter will have some more flashback scenes, but after that, all of the plot will be linear. Thanks for your patience—the first chapter was written a long time ago, so I apologize for the slight change of pace/tone in the story.


	3. Chapter Two

_Present Day, Martha's Vineyard_

"Can we go swimming? Please?" Kyle requested again.

"We have to see Hannah and Lyman first," Mulder said. "But if we hold off, we can do some night swimming."

Kyle's hazel eyes immediately brightened. "Let's do that!" he agreed.

"Should we stop at a grocery store and stock up on some food?" Scully asked, although the last thing she wanted to do was to climb back into the car.

"Hannah already went," Mulder said with a smile. "She usually does that for our first day. And when I talked to her yesterday, I even told her about your crazy bee pollen fetish, so don't you worry."

"So she assumes I'm some stuck-up health food freak?" Scully probed. Mulder had spoken very warmly about Hannah, who had worked for his family since he was a boy, mostly as a housekeeper/nanny, and then, after his grandfather had died, became the caretaker with her husband Lyman. They lived in a cottage that was part of the Mulder estate.

"No, she thinks you are a good influence, actually," Mulder smiled. "She's looking forward to meeting you. Kyle put in a good word for you too."

Scully couldn't help but blush. "Let's go tell her we're here," Mulder said, holding out his hand.

It almost felt strange, walking with him hand-in-hand towards the light green cottage. Kyle was running ahead, telling them to keep up, and as soon as Hannah opened the door, she had the eleven-year-old enveloped in a huge hug. "You've gotten so tall," she gushed, her snow-white hair pinned back in a complicated bun. "I'm thrilled you are here for the entire summer."

"Fox," she softly said when she noticed Mulder and Scully approaching the porch. "You look well."

Mulder bent down to kiss her cheek, and she patted the side of face with her right hand. "You look well," she repeated softly. "I'm glad you are spending time here. You need it."

"I know," he agreed as he hugged her. "There's someone special I want you to meet."

"Dana, I've heard so much about you, from both Fox and Kyle," Hannah gushed, immediately opening her arms for a hug. "I feel like I know you already. I feel so much better knowing that you are looking after these two when they aren't here."

Scully smiled, hoping that her face didn't betray how taken aback she felt. She knew that Mulder kept in close contact with Hannah, but she had assumed that their conversations centered around the upkeep of the estate, and more recently, on Kyle. "It's so good to finally meet you too," she said with a polite smile, catching Mulder's eye.

"I told you," he mouthed.

"I went to the grocery store, and I made some of your favorite cookies," Hannah gushed as she led them towards the main house. "And I have your rooms set up. Lyman also made sure to get some gas for the boat. It's in the blue shed."

"Boat?" Scully asked, surprised.

"Yeah, we have a speed boat but we don't go on it much because Dad gets really seasick. Sometimes he pukes," Kyle explained.

"Good thing Scully's a doctor, huh buddy?" Mulder asked, ruffling Kyle's hair before his son shrugged him off.

Hannah led them up the stairs to a wraparound porch, and opened the kitchen door with a key. "Now I don't want you to worry about me dropping off unannounced," Hannah said.

"You're always welcome here and you know it," Mulder interrupted. "You're family."

Scully was taken aback by the size of the homey kitchen. Although it boasted new appliances and had a huge marble island in the middle, of the room, it had a rustic feel. A huge wooden table ran alongside the exterior wall, and she could see a tupperware container of cookies and a few newspapers were neatly piled on one end.

"The meat is in the basement freezer," Hannah instructed, pointing to a bolted door on one corner. "And you should have enough food to avoid going to the grocery store over the weekend."

"This is great," Mulder said, giving Hannah another hug.

"I'm off to go volunteering," Hannah excused herself. "If you need anything, you know where to find me."

"Dad, when can we go night swimming?" Kyle asked.

"At night," Mulder quipped, grinning when he saw the look of frustration cross Kyle's face. "After dinner. And, after we unpack. We're not going to start grilling until everything is out of that car."

"What's the deal with night swimming?" Scully asked.

"We take a lot of bug repellant and a lantern and go down to the beach," Kyle responded, munching on a cookie. "Dad and I do it whenever we're here. But you can come if you want."

A small smile crossed Scully's face, and before she could accept, Kyle had scampered away, thumping up a staircase. "For the record, Scully," Mulder said. "I would have invited you too."

"I wouldn't be intruding?" Scully asked.

"Of course not. This is part of why we came up together, remember?" Mulder asked. "Don't ever think that you are intruding, okay?"

Scully nodded. "So night swimming it is."

A few hours later, as dusk was settling, the trio set out for the small private beach. Kyle begged to carry the lantern, and was reminded not to run down the slope that led to the water. Mulder followed behind with some towels, while Scully carried a tote bag packed with bug spray, a citronella candle, and a first aid kit. She wasn't taking any chances; Kyle had turned out to be nearly as accident prone as his father.

Kyle bounded into the water, shrieking at the cold temperature before admonishing his father to get in. Scully sat on the dock and dipped her feet in the ocean, not quite ready to jump in yet. Despite Mulder's constant assurances that she wasn't a third wheel, she wanted to give them a couple of minutes to themselves.

She sat back, thinking of how everything had changed over the course of the past four months. If she had been told a year earlier that she would be taking a three month absence from the Bureau to forge a family with her partner and the son she never knew he had, she would have laughed.

Scully had never not worked; even when she was in middle school, she babysat and helped neighbors with housekeeping and chores. She worked all through high school, college, and med school, trying to keep her student loans as minimal as possible. Now here she was, taking a 180 degree turn from her usual work ethic. But hadn't she earned it? She had taken minimal time off when she was sick with cancer, despite Mulder's protests that she ease her way back into a full-time schedule.

But making the decision to take a leave of absence had been so easy, it hadn't seemed like a life-changing decision at all.

_Four months earlier_

"Missing?" Mulder sat up groggily, fighting the lack of sleep. "How?"

"You might want to turn on your phone, Agent," Skinner snarled.

"Shit," Mulder muttered, making a beeline to the kitchen to find his cell phone.

"How did you find out?" Scully asked.

"I received a call from Agent Spender," said Skinner. "He's up in New York now and has been trying to reach Agent Mulder. The New York field office is handling the investigation."

Mulder was frantically dialing numbers, throwing his cell across the kitchen phone in frustration. He finally managed to plug in the cordless phone wire and started pacing as soon as he heard the dial tone. "Can I talk to him?" Mulder barked.

Immediately, his voice changed. "I'm coming up now, it's just going to take a couple of hours," Mulder said. "Are you having fun with Uncle Jeff?"

Scully thought her head was going to explode as her mind began to make connections. Spender was Mulder's half-brother and Agent Fowley's partner. No wonder Mulder had been climbing the walls at the office recently. Scully was betting that Diana was playing her ex against his brother, and her recent in work in DC was just upping the ante. Things were starting to click in her sleep-addled brain.

Skinner saw the look that transpired between the two agents when Mulder got off the phone and Scully called out his name.

"I'm getting the next shuttle to New York," Mulder muttered, running his fingers through his dark, spiky hair as he hunted around for his leather jacket.

And with that he was gone, leaving Scully to wonder whether he would have said more if Skinner hadn't been in the room.

Meanwhile, Mulder had paid through the nose to get on the next flight to New York, enduring a torturous cab ride from JFK Airport to the Upper East Side. He nearly had a heart attack when he couldn't find either his son or half-brother in Diana's apartment, barely comprehending the ASAC who both tried to direct him to the apartment downstairs where Kyle's best friend lived and handed him a note addressed to him in vaguely familiar script.

Mulder spent the next couple of hours in a haze, splitting his time between harassing the investigating team and annoying the polite but very reserved Sarah Bingham-Baker with his nervous energy. Her nanny usually walked her son and Kyle to school in the morning, and Sarah had taken charge when Kyle informed her that his mother—and most of her possessions—were gone when he woke up. "So will you be needing us to keep Kyle overnight?" she asked pointedly while sipping a cup of tea.

Mulder was stunned by the question, and before he could stumble over an answer, Sarah excused herself to answer a ringing phone. In an almost reflexive move, he called Scully.

"Are you guys coming home tonight?" she blurted out, before he could say anything. Skinner had managed to pass along a few details about the investigation, so she knew that it was looking like Diana had voluntarily left. She had stopped herself from calling Mulder a hundred times, not wanting to rock the boat. "Because the guest room is—"

"Yes," Mulder answered decisively. "We're coming home tonight."

_Present Day_

Mulder breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Scully shed her t-shirt and shorts and jump into the water. He knew that she was purposely giving him some time alone with Kyle; for the past few months, she had shown a great sensitivity to making sure that father and son made up for lost time, no doubt thinking of her own experiences growing up with a father who remained largely absent for most of her childhood.

Scully caught his eye as she swam closer to him. "Watchya thinking about?" she asked.

"Two things," Mulder said, snaking his arms around Scully's waist as best he could while watching Kyle swim towards them. "One, that first night when I brought Kyle to DC, and realized that you had somehow fixed up your guest room in just a few hours."

"That was nothing," Scully protested. "I know what it's like moving around as a kid, that's all. It was instinct."

"So you say," Mulder smirked. "And the second was when you said you would come here with us. And that was more than nothing, Scully."

"We needed to give ourselves a break," Scully agreed. "Three months on Martha's Vineyard in the summer. No work. No school. Making up for lost time."

"And then back to the DC grind in the fall," Mulder finished, bending down to give her a short kiss. "In a new home."

"Dad?" Kyle yelled, swimming towards him. "Are you listening to me? Can we set up the telescope tonight?"

"Sorry, buddy," Mulder apologized. "I haven't found the telescope yet, but we can set it up as soon as we can figure out where it went."

"Can we look for it tonight?" Kyle protested. "There aren't any clouds tonight, and it's supposed to rain tomorrow."

"Sure," Mulder agreed. "But let's enjoy night swimming first. The summer is pretty long, Kyle. We have lots of chances for clear nights while we're here."

"Dana, do you like looking at the stars?" Kyle asked Scully.

"Of course," Scully answered, smiling at Mulder. "You know, your Dad taught me a lot about the stars and the constellations and the myths."

"He taught me, too," Kyle stated. "He said we can look for the telescope tonight. We always set it up on the upstairs porch."

Please leave reviews, or let me know if you want to beta! Let me know what you think so far—now that the set-up is complete, there is lots more coming, if you are interested.


	4. Chapter Three

They spent their first two weeks on the Vineyard slowly getting used to living with one another, and Scully thought that it was going as well as could be expected. She knew that the handful of weekends the three of them spent with one another—a few in New York and a couple in DC—didn't really count. During the spring, all three of them were trying too hard, Mulder especially. But after ten days of consecutive co-habitation in a space with much more room than either Scully's apartment in DC or the place Mulder sublet in New York so Kyle could finish the school year, they had settled into a comfortable rhythm.

Although in many ways Scully had loathed their separation over the past four months, she knew that they both needed time alone. The knowledge that Mulder had kept his son a secret had left her reeling, but slowly, they were rebuilding their trust. In order to succeed, they needed to look forward, so they had agreed that she wouldn't throw it in his face, and he wouldn't hide behind his guilt. Although she was hurt, Scully knew that she would be in even more pain if they were not together at all. She knew that on many levels it didn't make any sense; however, she needed to trust her instincts, and her faith in their relationship, even more than she needed to rely on logic alone.

It was looking to be like another lazy morning when Scully finally decided to face the day at eight thirty. Mulder had accidentally-on-purpose woken her up a couple of hours earlier, around the time he usually went running. She had to say that she was enjoying a return to their early-morning sex routine, and judging from Mulder's enthusiasm, the feeling was mutual. After a quick shower, she made her way downstairs, where she saw hot coffee on the pot, along with a note in Mulder's messy scrawl that he had gone running. Scully smiled to herself, appreciative that Mulder was taking his promise to not ditch her any longer to heart.

She grabbed the newspaper on the counter, along with a mug of coffee, and dragged herself to the porch swing, which had become her favorite spot to sit in the morning; at that time of day, it was out of the direct path of the sun, allowing her to look out onto the water unobtrusively.

"Is Dad coming back, or did he forget?"

Scully snapped her head back to the sliding screen door, where Kyle was teetering between the kitchen and the porch, a worried look plastered on his face. "He's out running," she answered cheerfully. "Don't worry, he didn't forget."

"But the car's not in the driveway," Kyle protested, his voice shaky. "Dad said he would take me to the bookstore."

"He drove out to Aquinnah to go running on the trails," Scully responded calmly. "He left a note on the counter."

Scully bit her lip as she saw Kyle run out of sight, back into the house. He kept insisting that he was okay, but tended to panic a couple of times a day, usually when he wasn't sure where his father was, or if he sensed disagreement in the air. Her heart broke for him; no child should have to endure what he did, waking up one morning, getting ready to school, only to realize that his mother was gone, with no intention of coming back, and without having said goodbye. Scully was also learning that Diana had been rather strict with Kyle, and as much as he relished the fact that his father gave him a certain amount of freedom, he was always looking for approval.

Kyle came back to porch with a glass of orange juice, looking more relaxed. "Do you want chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast?" Scully asked, knowing that it was the boy's favorite.

"It's okay," Kyle said. "Your busy."

"I'm not doing anything," Scully protested. "I was waiting for either you to wake up or for your Dad to come back, because I hate eating breakfast by myself. And I'm glad you came down when you did because I'm starting to get really hungry."

"Really?" asked Kyle, his eyes getting wider, and a smile starting to tug at the corner of his mouth.

"Honest," Scully said, tossing aside the Times.

Scully figured breakfast to be a win; Kyle was chattering non-stop, and he even took over stirring the batter as Scully manned the stovetop. "Do you want to try flipping?" Scully asked.

"But what if I mess it up?"

"How can you mess it up?" Scully asked back. "We'll be right here, so it won't burn."

"But you make them round, what if I can't do that?" Kyle asked shyly.

"Pancakes don't have to be round," Scully patiently explained, tucking her red hair behind her ears. "And mine are round only because I've been doing this for twenty years. It takes a lot of practice. But the most important thing is that it doesn't matter what the shape is, it always tastes the same."

"I want to try," Kyle said quietly, with a determined expression.

Kyle quickly got the hang of it, and was even proud of his two misshapen attempts, joking that he could pass them off as chocolate chip burritos, prompting a laugh from Scully. They were so engrossed in their project that they didn't hear Mulder return home, not noticing his presence in the kitchen until he snuck up behind them, burying his face in Scully's neck while simultaneously ruffling Kyle's bedhead.

"You smell," Kyle complained, pushing his father away.

"You wound me, spawn-o-mine," Mulder joked back, sniffing at his soaked t-shirt.

"He has a point," Scully agreed, wrinkling her nose after Mulder leaned in for a kiss. "How was the run?"

"The run was great, but you are a traitor," he mumbled with a wink. "I'll be back in five. Don't eat all of this on me!"

By the time Mulder bounded down the stairs, they were just sitting down to eat. "These are really delicious," Scully said. "You did a great job.

"Thanks," Kyle smiled shyly, pouring maple syrup onto the corner of his plate.

"These are fantastic, buddy Good job. What time did you finally get up this morning?" Mulder asked Kyle as he poured himself some orange juice.

"I don't know, maybe like nine?" Kyle asked as he dug into his first pancake. "I had a lot of trouble sleeping."

Mulder hoped that the look of concern that he knew must of crossed his face didn't look too apparent. "How so?" he asked as casually as he could, locking eyes with Scully to see if they were on the same page.

"I heard weird sounds. I think that animal I told you about is back. It was kind of like a cat, but different," Kyle tried to explain. "It was really high and screechy."

Orange juice exploded out of Mulder's mouth and across the table, splashing both Kyle and Scully as he started a coughing fit. He glanced at Scully, who was turning tomato red. "Sorry, it went down the wrong way," Mulder choked out between coughs. So much for promising her that the structure of the old house would ensure that no one would be able to hear them through the closed bedroom door. She had argued with him that they should close the windows, but at that point he had stopped listening to her lesson on sound waves, making it a personal challenge to get her screaming before she could finish her next run-on sentence. He smugly smiled to himself. He had won that round in record time, a personal best.

"Why don't we put in that air conditioner in your room then?" Mulder suggested. "That would solve the problem. The white noise might help you sleep better."

At that point it was Scully's turn to cough, and although she didn't look up from her task of wiping down the table top, Mulder could tell that her face was still an unnatural shade of red. "Let's get that set up, and then we can go to the bookstore and go out for lunch. We haven't really spent much time in Edgartown."

"And then can we go swimming?" Kyle asked hopefully.

"If it isn't raining," Mulder promised. "Go clean out everything off your desk and windowsill, and I'll be up in a few minutes."

"Sorry," Mulder started as soon as he could hear Kyle thump around the upstairs hallway.

"I'm so embarrassed," Scully sighed, burying her face on the table. "Really embarrassed. I know he doesn't know, just the thought—"

"I should have listened to you," Mulder apologized with a wry grin. "But to be honest I'm not sorry it happened."

"I guess I'm not either. Better this than other scenarios," Scully sighed, throwing the towel she was using to wipe up the orange juice across the room into the kitchen sink, trying to figure out whether to laugh or cry.

"We got away with this one," agreed Mulder. "How was he this morning?"

Scully shrugged. "He was worried when he didn't see the car," she said. "But as soon as he realized you left a note, he was fine."

Mulder nodded, pushing back in his chair. The psychologist that he had dragged Kyle to had assured him that Kyle would be fine taking a break from seeing someone over the summer, and had already suggested an adolescent specialist in DC. If there was a crisis over the summer, he would be happy to speak with them by phone. Kyle hadn't argued with his father about the appointments, and Mulder hoped he would be just as receptive in the fall as he had in the spring. Kyle wasn't much younger than he was when his living situation changed after Samantha's abduction, and Mulder knew that he probably would have benefited from seeing someone. All the same, Mulder didn't want to make parenting decisions based solely on his parent's mistakes.

"Maybe I should see if there are any sport camps going on in July," Mulder mused, finishing the last of his breakfast. "It might do him some good to get out of here a couple of hours a day, spend time with other kids. I just don't want him to agree because he thinks that's what I want him to do."

"We'll figure it out," Scully assured Mulder, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand.

Luckily enough it was Kyle who spotted an advertisement in front of the bookstore for a basketball camp, which would begin after the July 4th holiday weekend. "Would it be okay if we just went to see what it was like?" he shyly asked, nervously playing with his Yankees baseball cap.

"Of course," Mulder grinned. "I think I used to go to something like that when I was your age."

"Really?" Kyle asked, looking surprise. "Did you like it?"

"It was fun," Mulder responded. He glanced over at Scully, who gave him an encouraging look.

"Ooops," Kyle said as they entered the bookstore. "I don't have my summer reading list."

He looked guiltily at his father. "Can we go back and get it?"

"Did your photographic memory went on summer vacation?" Mulder joked.

"I—but—," Kyle sputtered, turning red.

"I have it," Scully waved a crumpled, goldenrod sheet of paper. "I just happened to find it with the stack of take-out menus you keep leaving on the counter."

"They are just suggestions," father and son said at the same time with matching earnest expressions.

"Is my cooking that bad?" Scully asked as they made their way through the bookstore, her hand entwined with Mulder's.

"No, we just want to give you a break," Kyle said, doing his best to sound charming.

"That's very kind of you," Scully responded with an eye roll. "Do you think that—"

"Fox Mulder?"

All three whipped around, where a woman with curly blonde hair, who looked to be a couple of years younger than Scully, was standing.

"It's—I'm Caroline Taylor," she said softly. "I used to play with—"

"Samantha's friend," Mulder finished. Scully could feel him grasp her hand a little tighter. "I don't think I've seen you in ages. "

"This is Dana Scully and my son, Kyle," Mulder introduced.

"It's nice to meet you. Kyle, I think I saw you with your grandmother once when you were really little," Caroline said shyly. "But Hannah talks about you all the time. She said that you're a great basketball player. My son is a little younger than you, but he likes to play too."

"It's funny that I bumped into you like this," Caroline continued. "I was cleaning out my mother's attic a few weeks ago, and I found some pictures of me and Sam. I didn't want to just send them to Teena, but if you want them for yourself, or if you think she would care to have them…you would know best what to do."

"That's really thoughtful," Mulder tried to speak despite the lump in his throat. "I would."

"I saw Hannah earlier in the week, and she told me you would be around this summer. I mean to tell her about the photos, but I completely forgot t. I can drop them off to her or to you in the next couple of days."

Mulder shook his head. "Bring your family over for a cook-out on Saturday. Around four," he suggested, almost surprising himself. He knew he had made the right call when he could feel Scully squeeze his hand back.

Caroline nodded. "Sure," she agreed. "That would be nice. We'll see you then."

"Caroline?" Mulder said as she walked off towards the cash register.

When she turned around, Mulder said, "I haven't given up looking for her."

She nodded. "I know. I haven't either. She and I will have a lot of catching up to do."

"She was Sam's best friend," Mulder explained to Scully as Kyle started scavenging around for his books. "And she and her parents were real good to my mother after the divorce. In some ways, they were the only ones around here who treated us the same way after Sam was gone. Is it okay that I invited them over like that?"

"It was good that you did," Scully said. "As much as it is nice that we live in a bubble, it would be nice to have people over for a change in pace."

"I think I have all the books," Kyle panted, struggling with a stack of paperbacks.

"All seven?" Mulder asked.

"Yup, good thing I have a photographic memory," Kyle smiled.

By the time they got back home, it was nearly four o'clock, and Kyle had spent the short car ride asking whether they would have time to go swimming before dinner. Mulder promised him that they would be able to spend at least thirty minutes down by the water, but then stopped when he realized that there was someone in the kitchen. "It's just me," a man in his early sixties announced, getting up from his perch at the kitchen table. "Hannah let me in."

"Preston?" Mulder, extending his hand, which the older the man firmly gripped.

"Sorry to barge in on you like this," he answered in a tone that sounded as though the last thing he was apt to do was to apologize.

"Preston's my attorney," Mulder explained. "I don't think you've met Dana Scully before, and you remember Kyle."

Preston politely nodded. "I need to speak with you in private," he said impatiently.

Mulder glanced at Preston, then at Scully, then at Preston again, looking as though he were a deer caught in headlights. "Kyle, I'll get you when we're finished," Mulder said to his son. "Why don't you go watch TV or something."

"But you said we could go swimming—" Kyle protested.

"We will," Mulder promised. "Just not right now."

He waited until he could hear the television set in the other room before proceeding. "Whatever you can to me, you can say to the both of us," Mulder explained.

Preston looked skeptical. "I always advise my clients—"

Mulder gave Preston an unwavering look.

"This might take a while," Preston sighed, beginning, "About a year ago, you came to me about a vial of ova."

Both Mulder and Scully nodded. As Preston continued, Scully locked eyes with Mulder.

Kyle crept up to the door, hoping he could hear something. A half hour had passed since his father had sent him out of the room. "The answer is both," he could hear Dana say. My God, it's not even a question."

"We're sure. There's not even a flicker of doubt," he could hear his father say.

"Then you need to get down to South Carolina immediately," the stranger said. "And discretely. My people work fast, but not as fast as you need to be."

"We'll do whatever it takes," his father said.

Kyle sighed. He had a feeling he wouldn't be going swimming.

Note: Thanks for reading. Hope you like it so far!


	5. Chapter Four

Both Scully and Mulder were shocked into silence by what Preston Baldwin had just told them. The past fifteen minutes had been a blur for them both. Mulder's attorney had been forwarded two items:

Item one: A card signed 'Mantha' that read "The boys can't wait 'til you get back. They are having lots of fun, but are missing you tons. We love spoiling the only two babies in the family! They can't wait for Wednesday morning' with a Charleston address that had originally been mailed to the late William Mulder's house on the Vineyard, and forwarded onto Preston, who was handling the estate.

Item two: A medical file bearing the name of a family practice located in Charleston, with paperwork for two male children, one fifteen months old, and the other, twenty-eight months old. Buried in the medical notes, between visits noting vaccinations and well-child check-ups, was genetic work-up information. Also inserted in the file were the results of similar tests done on Fox Mulder and Dana Scully.

The card was postmarked four days earlier; it was Tuesday now, and they had to move fast.

Scully had snatched the file away from Preston before he could finish his sentence. She quickly scanned the file, her hands shaking. "We need to go there, now," she impatiently said. Shock was setting in. She had so divorced herself from the possibility of even having children, that she could barely fathom the news that had literally fallen into her lap. Now wasn't the time for her to start getting too lost in thought. They needed to nail down the practicalities of getting these two precious boys into their custody.

"You do realize that only one of these children is biologically yours, Dr. Scully?" Preston asked.

"These are Mulder's sons," Scully shot back, getting out of her chair, tossing the file back on the desk. "They both belong here with us. My God, it's not even a question. We need them both."

She sat back down, barely paying attention to Preston's explanation about the surveillance the Gunmen had been conducting over the past couple of days, which confirmed that the two toddlers were in the unassuming house in the Charleston suburb.

"Do you think—" Mulder began. "Could Samantha be…"

"The physical description," Preston said, coughing. "Is consistent with what Samantha would look like now, based on age progression models taken from family photos, and is consistent with the physical appearance what the woman claiming to be Samantha a couple of years ago looked like—height and weight-wise. But the Gunmen have been having a hard time getting a good look of her face unobscured. She also, from a distance, at least from the photos they sent me—"

"Who is it?" Mulder asked impatiently, his blood pressure soaring, his heart stuck in his throat.

"Diana," Preston said flatly, grimacing.

"How the hell can the Gunmen not tell Samantha from Diana?" Mulder demanded, his voice rising until he saw the look on Scully's face, and suddenly remembered that Kyle was only in the next room.

"We're trying, Mulder," Preston insisted, sighing. "But the Gunmen say that the boys appear to be healthy, and they seem to be happy."

Scully felt nauseous. She tried not to think of how ill-equipped the Gunmen really were in making such an assessment regarding small children. But that wasn't the issue they were dealing with, at least in that precise moment. She had to stop distracting herself, she chided.

Then a thought suddenly popped in her mind, and she began to shake. She turned to look at Mulder, trying to speak, but not getting the words out.

"Can you give us a couple of moments?" Mulder asked his attorney. He waited until Preston closed the door behind him, before kneeling down in front of Scully, who was slumped in her chair.

"What is it?" he asked patiently, tucking her hair behind her ears.

"As much as I want us to go and get those children this very second, I need to know whether we're trying to keep a little boy away from his mother," she managed to get out, tears falling down her cheeks. "I know he's your son, but if this like Emi—"

Mulder nodded, trying not to flinch upon realizing that Scully was unable to say her daughter's name. "It's probably in here," he said, reaching back to grab the file off the desk. Although he felt a twinge of guilt for not having that same thought, he was once again blown away by Scully's innate compassion. They were on the verge of getting what they both so desperately wanted, and she still and the wherewithal to think beyond whatever family unit they had forged.

Mulder turned the file around so they could both view it, flipping through the notes for the older boy. "It's the best possible scenario," he sighed. "There won't be any barriers."

Scully nodded, numb. Was utter relief that there would most likely be no custody battle an appropriate reaction?

"Diana won't be able to lay a finger on him," Mulder soothed Scully, who was still slightly shaking. Scully gripped his hand tightly, still unable to speak. "We can run our own blood tests."

Mulder, still crouching next to Scully's chair, tossed the file on the floor, and took a closer look at the note that Preston had left on the desk. His profiler instincts immediately kicked in, as he made cursory notes about the handwriting, which was most likely authored by a female under the age of 40. At first glance, the text was casual, but a more careful reading revealed that its breezy tone was forced. The fact that it had been sent to his father's address on the Vineyard was the detail that practically spooked him. Had it been Samantha (or even Diana) who wrote it, did she purposely not sent it to their grandfather's home, where they were staying? What would have happened if he hadn't received the message?

"It's four o'clock now. If we start driving in the next hour, we'll be there first thing in the morning," Mulder said slowly. As much as he wanted them both to be able to collect their bearings, he knew that they needed to move quickly. "Or we could fly out of Logan or LaGuardia later tonight using the Hale IDs and hopefully drive back later tomorrow."

"What about Kyle?" Scully asked, regaining control of her speech. "I can't see that he would want to be left behind, Mulder. Not right now."

Mulder's shoulders sagged. He had to admit that Scully had a point; it had been hard for him to see how withdrawn his normally bright and independent son had become since his mother had left four months earlier. Although Kyle had been making progress—the fact that he had asked about attending day camp earlier that day had certainly been a step in the right direction—Mulder wasn't sure how the eleven-year-old would react to his father leaving so unexpectedly. Every other time Mulder had left him in Scully's care, he had patiently explained where he was going, why, and when he would we back; this time, he wouldn't be able to give his son answers to any of those questions.

"We could leave him with my brother Charlie and his family—he has two boys," Scully offered. "He's in Cambridge; we'd be heading up that way if we flew out of Boston. And I'm sure that Hannah—"

Mulder shook his head, finally standing up. "There shouldn't be any danger in him coming with us" he reasoned. "It's not that I want him to get caught up in all of this, I would never put him in harm's way, but considering what we are doing, I think we would be sending him the wrong message if we left him behind."

Scully had to concede that point.

"We'll have a contingency plan," Mulder added, walking behind the roll top desk, squatting down to open the safe that sat underneath it. "He can stay with the Gunmen, out of the way, and they will make sure he's okay. He's a smart kid, Scully. And it won't get to that point. You hear what Preston explained—we just need to knock on the door, and the nice lady with brown hair will give us our kids, and we come home."

"So you don't think this is a trap," Scully blurted out, finally articulating what had been on the tip of her tongue since Preston left the room. She wasn't sure how Mulder, the most paranoid person she knew, could have such faith in his attorney's insistence that everything would go according to the simple plan he had laid out for them twenty minutes earlier.

"No," Mulder said as he pulled out some items from the safe, and spilled them onto the desktop. "Preston checked this out, Scully. He had the Gunmen working with him on this. I met Preston a dozen years ago through Senator Mathison; he isn't one of my father's cronies. He wouldn't have come up here if this wasn't to be taken seriously. This isn't me flying over the handle, going across the country half-cocked. There are precautions we have to take, yes, and I don't want us to tip anyone off about where we are going and why. But let me be the paranoid one here, Scully. It wears better on me than on you."

Mulder checked his watch again and sighed as he started to count the cash, and pointed to a small manila envelope. Scully took his cue and extracted three IDs. "I had the Gunmen make them before we got down here," Mulder said softly as he stuck a billfold in his back pocket. "Carry the cash that's in that envelope. I have another one for Kyle, just in case we ever get separated."

Scully flipped through the IDs—William Hale, Katherine Hale, Christopher Hale, all with the same address in New York City. She absently held out her hand when she heard Mulder say her name.

"Look at me," he instructed as she felt something pinch the ring finger of her left hand. "Please."

Scully looked up at him, drawing her breath as she realized what he was doing. "First, I want you to know that to me, we are bringing home our children, Scully—our children. Second, I know we still have a lot of work to do," Mulder began, his tone serious. "So just consider this is a placeholder until we get there, as us, and not as the Hales."

She was stunned. She stared at Mulder, who was looking back at her wide-eyed, waiting for her approval. "I don't have a doubt that we'll get there," she responded, extending her right hand so it cupped his chin, her thumb rubbing against the side of his mouth, which he reflexively tried to kiss. "I have not a doubt in the world that we'll get there together."

"I should call the Gunmen. Get a progress report See what airport they can fly us out of," Mulder said, holding her hand to his face, basking in its warmth.

"Wait," Scully said, not letting go. "Do I get to do the honors?"

Mulder blinked a few times before he caught on with her thinking. "I guess," he mumbled, suddenly embarrassed. He quickly located a gold band, which Scully slipped onto his left ring finger.

"We're getting there," Scully reassured him. "Together. Maybe more slowly than we would like, but we're getting there."

They left the room hand in hand, with Kyle pouncing on them as soon as they walked in the kitchen, where he and Preston were eating cookies. "I want to go with you," he immediately said, wiping crumbs off his face, and looking up at his father, his hazel eyes pooling.

"You're coming," Mulder said, ruffling his hair. "But you need to follow my directions. I'll answer all your questions, but some of them will need to wait until we get back, okay?"

"How long are we going? Where are we going?" Kyle asked immediately, a look crossing his face that reminded Scully of his father.

"We're going to South Carolina," Mulder said. "And we'll probably be gone for two nights. I need to you pack a bag with a change of clothes, but everything needs to fit into your backpack, okay? We're leaving in ten minutes."

Mulder glanced over to where Scully was standing, watching her tap her fingers on the granite tabletop. He could only begin to fathom the trepidation that she must be feeling; when he had told her about the ova and about the fetus he had seen in that laboratory, he had seen the look of shock on her face, and he remembered how it had turned into a flicker of hope. He needed to see this through, for her, and for him. It angered him to no end that other people were out there, raising his children. Even if it really was Samantha who was raising his sons, _their_ sons, he wouldn't be able to help but resent her for doing so.

"Don't worry, Scully. We're bringing them home," Mulder said.


	6. Chapter Five

By the time they flew into Charleston, rented a car, and met the Gunmen at their motel, it was nearly midnight. So far, Kyle had cooperated with his father's request to not ask any questions until they were back on the Vineyard, but Mulder could see that the suspense and confusion were starting to get to his son. During the car ride to the airport, Mulder had explained that they would be using fake IDs, and Kyle looked excited when he was handed a cell phone and a nylon wallet with money. "I thought you weren't working this summer," Kyle had responded as he stuffed the items in his backpack. "But it's really cool to go on an undercover case, just like on TV. Even if I can't tell anybody about it."

"Actually it's a little more complicated than that," Mulder had told his his son. "But we'll talk about it we get back home."

Hours later, Mulder still was unable to get his son's comment out of his head. He remembered all of the times he was shuttled down to DC to visit his father, thinking that he would be able to see the inner workings of the State Department, and instead ending up feeling like a nuisance upon learning that he should be not seen and not heard. While setting into their motel room, Mulder realized that he owed Kyle a better explanation.

"We need to talk, buddy," Mulder said as Kyle emerged from the bathroom in his pajamas. "Dana and I have something we need to tell you."

Scully looked up from her perch on one of the double beds. Mulder nodded as he met her gaze, and then they both stared at the door in alarm once they heard someone knocking. "It's Langley!"

Mulder opened the door, and Langley appeared in the room, looking sheepish. "Hickey and Byers are on their way," Langley explained. "And I just wanted to see if little dude here had any interest in going to an unlimited breakfast bar with me tomorrow. Air conditioning and waffles and maple syrup and chocolate chips—how does that sound?"

Kyle's eyes immediately lit up. "Can I, Dad?" he asked.

Mulder was touched by Langley's gesture. "Of course," he smiled. "That sounds like fun."

"Are you going to be on your case all day tomorrow?" Kyle asked.

"That's what we were going to talk to you about, bud," Mulder responded. "I was just going to apologize for dragging you away from the Vineyard. But all-you-can-eat waffles sounds fun enough."

"When I'm with Langley tomorrow, will I have to use my real name or the fake name?" Kyle asked excitedly, looking up at his father.

Mulder, Scully, and Langley all exchanged glances. "You'll be fine using your own first name if that comes up," Mulder said. "But keep the ID just in case. Langley will let you know if you have to use it. And if you two get separated tomorrow, use the cell phone and call Preston immediately, okay? His number is pre-programmed, and he'll be able to track down me and Dana."

Kyle nodded, and Mulder saw that he was still anxious. "I know this doesn't make sense," Mulder said, sitting next to Kyle on the bed. "But I promise to explain more once this is over, okay?"

Kyle shrugged. "I get it," he said, a tad despondent. "You can't talk about stuff you're investigating sometimes."

"Sounds lame, huh? But this is hopefully the only interruption for the summer, okay?" Mulder assured his son, ruffling his hair as they heard a knock at the door.

Byers and Frohike appeared, prompting Langley to ask Kyle if he wanted to play some unreleased video games in the Gunmen's room. "You're just trying to get me out of the room so I won't hear stuff about the case," Kyle whined.

"So does that mean you don't want to play?" Scully inquired as she sat down next to Mulder.

Kyle's eyes opened wide in protest. "That's not what I meant!"

"I'll come get you when we're finished," Mulder promised as Langley and Kyle exited the motel room. "Don't get too comfortable—we all need to get some sleep soon."

Byers cleared his throat before laying down the game plan for the following morning.

"We've seen both of the boys several times, and they look healthy and well-cared for," Byers finished five minutes later. "We don't think you will encounter any problems tomorrow morning. But we'll be tailing you, making sure that you aren't being followed."

Mulder nodded, looking at the map Frohike had spread on the dresser, staring at the different routes between South Carolina and the Vineyard the Gunmen had plotted. "So after we leave the house tomorrow, we'll drive to southern Virginia for the night," Mulder repeated. "We'll rendezvous with Preston mid-day somewhere south of DC, and hopefully make it to Delaware or New Jersey. Then we finish up on day 3."

"We'll be following you to DC, and then Preston's boys will take over," Frohike said. "Don't be tempted to drive through the night, Mulder. I know that you are used to road trips, but you are going to need to be on your toes."

Mulder nodded, obviously frustrated at the notion of only driving for relatively short stretches of time. "You're right," he finally said, searching Scully's blue eyes as she squeezed his left shoulder.

Neither of them got much sleep that night, and they tried to keep their whispering to a minimum as to not disturb Kyle, who was sprawled across his own bed only a few feet away. Mulder had spooned up against Scully, her head tucked under his chin, and kept fluttering his right hand on her stomach, something he had become in the habit of doing whenever he was nervous. Eventually, he felt Scully's breathing deepen, and her head gently burrowed into his left shoulder. Her change in movement must have relaxed him enough to get at least some sleep, as the next thing he knew, Scully was shaking him awake. "It's seven thirty," she said.

"Why didn't you wake me?" he sat up, slightly panicked. He looked around the room, and realized that both Scully and Kyle were fully dressed and the overnight bags were packed on Kyle's bed.

"Because I knew that you would insist on driving, " Scully wryly responded as she tucked her hair behind her ears and headed towards the bathroom.

"How long is your case going to be today?" Kyle asked as he played with the straps on his backpack.

"We'll meet up with you and Langley this afternoon," Mulder responded, trying to sound as casual as possible. "Probably somewhere in Virginia. It will take us a couple of days to drive back."

"Why can't we take a plane?" Kyle asked.

"We're driving back," Mulder responded as he found jeans and a t-shirt. He caught Kyle's look of frustration, and sighed. He remembered being eleven years old and full of questions, as well as being trapped in a room with a father who refused to answer any of them, or even do much by way of acknowledging his presence.

"I know it's not ideal," Mulder continued as he put on his sneakers. "But it's only a couple of days, and who knows, you might even like it."

"Can we stay somewhere with a pool?" Kyle pleaded hopefully.

"If we can find one, sure," Mulder answered, sliding his wallet in his back pocket. He peaked through the dusty blinds, and noticed that the Gunmen were packing up their vehicles. "It's showtime," Mulder called out.

"I'll be there in minute," Scully responded.

"Kyle, why don't you go out with Langley?" Mulder said absently. "I'll be there in a second."

As soon as he was sure that Kyle had left the room, Mulder let himself into the bathroom. Scully was standing before the sink, her palms pressed down on the tiled countertop, staring down at the drain. "We can do this, Scully," Mulder said softly. "It won't be easy, but we'll be able to do this. You'll be able to do this. This won't be like Em—"

"I know," Scully whispered wearily, cutting him off before he could say her name. "Let's get this done."

"We're in this together," Mulder said, tugging her left arm as she tried to brush past him.

"Look at me, please," Mulder pleaded once he noticed that Scully was avoiding his gaze. Immediately, a pair of pooling blue eyes looked up at him. He cupped her face, making small circles on her cheekbones. "We're in this together."

"I just don't—what if—" Scully stammered.

"We'll handle it," reasoned Mulder. "No matter what happens in the next couple of hours, we will handle it, together. We find those boys, limit our time in that house, and leave. One-two-three."

Scully nodded, frustrated with herself for letting her nerves get to her in such a way. "I'll drop the keys off at the office," she mumbled as she put on her sunglasses, accepting a kiss from Mulder before opening the motel room door.

"Dad, you were taking forever. We have to go, like, now," Kyle whined. Mulder couldn't remember the last time he saw his son so animated. "Langley said that sometimes they run out of the mint chocolate chips and I really want to try it."

"We'll see you this afternoon, buddy," Mulder said, his voice quaking as he gave his son a hug. He didn't want to alarm Kyle with the emotion that was escaping from his voice. "We'll miss you."

"It's just going to be a few hours," Kyle shrugged.

"I know," Mulder said. "But I'll—we'll still miss you."

"Where did Dana go?" Kyle asked, catching onto his father's use of pronouns.

"She went to return the keys to the front office," Mulder began. But before he could finish his sentence, he caught sight of his partner walking towards their rental car, and a split second later, realized that Kyle was walking towards her. He hung back, only walking towards them when he saw Kyle heading back towards him.

"See you later," Kyle said breathlessly as he ran towards Langley, who by this point, had gunned the engine of his rental. "Remember, find a place with a pool!"

Mulder watched Langley's car go out of sight as he walked towards Scully. "We'll see him this afternoon," Scully said as he slowly made his way to the driver's side of their car.

"We'll all be together," Mulder responded quietly.

The twenty minute drive to the suburban address listed on the postcard was mostly spent in silence. Mulder was tempted to drive past it once, but thought better of his plan and instead slid into the driveway, behind a red minivan. As he killed the engine, he took in the surroundings—the cheerful shade of yellow, the immaculate garden, and the swing set that he could see beyond the garage. "This looks picture perfect," Scully offered as she unbuckled her seat belt.

Mulder followed her lead, his nerves beginning to catch up with him. He grabbed Scully's hand as soon as he could reach it, and together, they made their way to the front door, pushing themselves forward. As they walked onto the porch, they began to hear voices from inside the house. As they stood in front of the door, with Scully reaching for the doorbell, they heard a young, chipper voice say with a southern drawl, "You're here! The boys will be so excited!"

Mulder leaned over to the left side of the house, where he saw a blonde woman with curly hair waving from the second story. "Come on in! I'm just cleaning up Nathan, we'll be down in a second."

They opened the door, and made their way into the house, which looked as perfect inside as it did outside. Once they stepped into the foyer, they were in the immediate line-of-sight of a playpen. Scully immediately gravitated towards it, leading her and Mulder into a spacious family room. Scully let out an audible gasp when they came face-to-face with a brown haired baby who was pulling himself up into a standing position. The boy shyly waived at them, sticking his other hand in his mouth for a few seconds, before bringing both of his arms over his head. "Up!"

Scully looked at Mulder briefly before picking up the boy, who immediately settled in her arms and began to smile. "Hey slugger," Mulder said softly. "How's it going?"

The response was a giggle and a sticky swipe at his nose, which made all three of them laugh. The boy burrowed his face in Scully's neck as Mulder playfully poked him back on the nose. "He looks like you. And Charlie," Scully whispered, cradling his head.

"Oof," Mulder said as he felt something hit the back of his legs. He looked down, and a dark-haired toddler looked up at him, giggling, as he held onto his legs and began to tug on his jeans. He bent down and picked the boy up. At first sight, he looked practically identical to Kyle as a two-year-old. "And how are you this morning, buddy?"

"Thomas train!" the boy tentatively answered, holding up a Thomas the Tank Engine, first looking at Mulder, and then at Scully. "Train's my favorite."

"They sure missed their momma and daddy," the blonde reappeared. "Mantha was sorry she wasn't able to greet you herself. But she did ask me to give you a message. She said it was important, and I promised her that I wouldn't let you leave without letting you know her news!"

Mulder and Scully looked at the children in their arms, and then at one another. So much for their one-two-three plan.


	7. Chapter Six

Scully squeezed the baby in her arms more closely once the blonde woman appeared in the room, and she noticed that Mulder had done the same. She hoped they could stick with their plan—to get the children out the house as quickly as possible, and to make their way north.

"I'm so sorry, I should have introduced myself," the blonde smiled. "I'm Valerie, 'Mantha's nanny. I just started last week. Mantha wanted to be here herself, but she needed to take Amelia to the dentist."

"So what's 'Mantha's big news?" Mulder asked casually as he adjusted the toddler on his hip, tickling the boy on his stomach. In return, the boy laughed, and tried to do the same thing to his father.

"Well, she asked me to give this to you," Valerie said as she turned around to pick something up, waving a flat, wrapped package at her visitors before tossing it on the sofa. "And she asked me to tell you that she owes you a game of Stratego the next time you see her, which probably won't be until after she and Di finish their next project, and she has no idea when that will be. But she's excited about the work, so big brother shouldn't worry about her and his niece."

"Thanks," Mulder managed to say as his mind began processing the myriad of questions that stemmed from Valerie's message, trying to block out the anxiety that soured his stomach upon hearing the word 'Di' come out of the nanny's mouth. Finally, he blurted out, "Tell her I won't worry, and I look forward to that game."

"I will," Valerie said excitedly. "They won't be back until this afternoon, and I know she said that you would need to get back on the road immediately. I have their stuff packed up by the door, and I'll need some help moving the car seats."

Scully breathed a small sigh of relief. They were almost free; she was also grateful that they wouldn't have to stop for the sole purpose of buying car seats. She wasn't sure how she would handle holding two small children in the backseat of the rental until they stumbled into a Kmart or Wal-Mart. She knew that they would have to stop somewhere to buy the boys clothes, diapers, and other essentials for their trip, but at least this way they would be able to put some distance between them and Charleston.

"Hey Nathan, buddy," Mulder said softly to the toddler in his arms. "Why don't you play with Mommy and Will while I get the car packed up, huh?"

Scully shared a small smile with Mulder as he set Nathan down on the floor without complaint. She did the same thing with Will before sitting down herself. "Doggy!" Will called out, pointing at the playpen.

"Woofy!" Nathan said excitedly, as he toddled to the playpen and began to hit its sides.

Scully got back up and peered into the playpen, spotting two stuffed dogs and two blankets. She picked up the four items and set them in front of her as she sat back down, and sure enough, both boys claimed their spoils. "Doggy!" Will cried as he held up a stuffed beagle with a slightly chewed up ear with a triumphant grin, handing Scully a blue blanket with frayed edges. To her surprise, he immediately sat in her lap, talking softly to Doggy in gibberish. Scully's eyes danced to Nathan, who was sitting on his dark green blanket, parts of it in tatters. He was enthusiastically bouncing Thomas the Tank Engine in his left hand and a stuffed dalmation in his right. "Woofy, Thomas," he repeated in a sing-song voice.

"Is your puppy named Woofy?" Scully asked as Nathan crawled a little closer to her.

"Yes," Nathan said, looking up at her with wide, hazel eyes. "I'm two."

"You're a big boy," Scully responded. "You must eat all of your vegetables."

"Yuck," Nathan scrunched up his nose.

"Uck!" Will repeated.

Scully smiled, as Nathan handed her Woofy. "Mine," he reminded her as he clutched Thomas tightly.

"Thank you!" Scully grinned as she gave Woofy a kiss and handed it back to the two-year-old. "Woofy is a very good puppy."

"I'm good!" Nathan said.

"I know, you're a very good boy," Scully smiled. She was relieved that she was able to communicate with the boys so easily, wishing that Mulder was sitting there with them but also hoping that they would be able to leave the house as soon as possible so they would be able to begin to connect as a family.

Mulder walked into the room a few minutes later, and gasped when he saw Scully sitting on the floor, one boy in her lap and the other at her side, playing with the stuffed animals. The light refracting through the bay window lent a certain softness to the scene, which he soaked in for a moment before speaking. "The car is all set," he finally said, walking over to Scully and the children. He picked up William as Scully took Nathan's hand while gathering the blankets.

Somehow, they managed to easily put both boys in their rather complicated car seats. Scully judged by their amount of wriggling that the boys wouldn't be too fond of a long road trip. She also used the opportunity to check the size tags on their clothing, making a mental note—she wanted any stops they would make to be as quick as possible.

"And these are the last two things," Valerie said, running to the driveway from the house. "Diaper bag and 'Mantha's present."

"Thanks for everything," Scully said as she accepted the diaper bag and swung it over her shoulder. She then took hold of the wrapped item, noting that the cream colored card read "Fox."

"It was no problem. Amelia and I will miss having the boys around during the day," Valerie explained. "They were great. You are lucky to have such easy-going kids."

"We are," Mulder answered as he fiddled with the car keys. He looked at his watch and began to tap the dial. "We better get going so we beat the traffic."

"Of course! Get to it," Valerie said, waving to the boys through the tinted car window. "Bye boys!"

Mulder and Scully gave Valerie a farewell wave as they backed out of the driveway. "Thank God," Scully sighed once the house was out of view. She looked in the back seat, and upon catching her eye, she heard Nathan say, "Ernie!"

She ripped open the diaper bag. Besides the diapers and wipes, she found a couple of tumbler cups, a ziplock bag of cheerios, a box of animal crackers, and other odds and ends. "Is this it?" Scully pulled out a Sesame Street CD, and slid it into the console, and was relieved to see a smile cross Nathan's face.

"We can probably get away with not stopping for supplies until after lunch," Scully said as she rummaged through the rest of the diaper bag. "There are some diapers and extra clothing in here."

"I have no idea what's in the duffle bag," Mulder responded. "But I used Frohike's metal detector and it didn't beep. It's probably just clothes, but I don't think I want to take that chance."

"We have the cash to get enough stuff to last us the trip," reasoned Scully. "And there are plenty of places near the Vineyard where we can get what we'll really need moving forward."

"I wasn't expecting this to go so easily," Mulder said, fiddling with the audio tuner so the CD played more loudly in the backseat instead of the front. "How the hell are we going to explain this to Kyle?"

"A simple version of the truth?" Scully suggested, suddenly distracted by cries emanating from the backseat.

"What's wrong?" she asked, as Mulder turned the music down. Will's face was scrunched up, and he was pointing to the floor. "Did Doggy fall?" She unclasped her seat belt and squeezed her way to the backseat, somehow managing to pick up the stuffed animal without falling over on either of the children.

While stopping for a diaper change at a rest stop an hour later, Mulder called Langley from a park bench to tell him that they were on schedule; he could hear Kyle in the background asking to talk to his father. "Is your case over?"

"It's over," Mulder confirmed, hoping that Will, who was sitting on his lap, wouldn't announce his presence. "We're going to meet up just before dinner."

"Can we do something fun tonight if you aren't working?"

"We need to get and early start tomorrow," Mulder responded. "We're meeting up with Preston for lunch."

"But I'll still be able to get up early," Kyle promised. "Langley said that there's an awesome ice cream place near where we'll be staying. And he said that there used to be a bowling alley, but it might not be there anymore."

"Let's settle for ice cream, okay?" Mulder said to Kyle as Scully rejoined him with Nathan settled on her left hip. Mulder reflexively smiled as he watched her interact with the children. She set Nathan down on the bench, pleased to see that he gravitated towards his father. She fumbled through the diaper bag, producing tumbler cups, bottled water, and the juice she had purchased from the vending machine. Mulder looked on impressively as she watered down the orange juice and gave each boy a mug. She then passed them both some Cheerios, which they immediately gobbled down.

"This should hopefully last them until lunch," Scully said once Mulder was off the phone. "Did you open the package Valerie gave us?"

Mulder shook his head. "Not yet," he said somewhat gruffly, accepting some smooshed Cheerios from Will.

"Do you think we should open it now?" Scully asked, trying to gauge Mulder's frustration with the situation. She wasn't sure whether Mulder was purposely ignoring her as he turned away and began to converse with the boys. It wasn't for another ten minutes, after they settled the children in their car seats, that Mulder responded to her question.

"The envelope—the writing on the front is Diana's," he said very softly. "I don't want Kyle to see anything that connects her to this. Let's just get it over with and dispose of the evidence."

Scully fumbled for the package, which was sitting near her feet, stuck between the diaper bag and passenger side door. She nodded to Mulder, indicating that he should be the one to open the envelope. Just as he was about to unfold the single piece of paper, he was interrupted by Nathan's cries. "Ducky! Ducky!"

"I think I know what that means," Mulder smiled, as he started the car and turned on the Sesame Street CD. "And, I think we're getting a hang of this parenting thing okay."

"Damnit," Mulder said under his breath, his expression turning sour as he skimmed the note, before passing it along to Scully. She stared at Mulder, who was gripping the steering wheel, his arms cradling his head. She whipped open the note, and grimaced. Fox—Don't they remind you of Kyle? Keep them close and they'll be safe in your Ever Ever Land.

"What does it mean," Scully asked quietly. Slowly, Mulder pulled his head up and sat back in his seat, his eyes closed and his hands raking through his dark hair.

"When Kyle was five, he became fascinated with Peter Pan, and that didn't go away for a couple of years. Instead of calling it Never Never Land, he called it Ever Ever Land. When he was about six, I asked him about these pictures that he was drawing. He told me that they are of Ever Ever Land, and most of them were me and him, and some of them included his friends. He said that his mother wasn't allowed because she didn't believe," Mulder explained. "While part of me was thrilled that I made the cut, that he and I were front and center of that picture, another part of me was devastated that he was only six years old and he could see that his mother was so disconnected from his life. I struggled with that. Some time later, Diana and I had some argument, and I'm not sure which one of us brought it up, but that's when I realized that she was aware of it. At first, I thought it bothered her, that she wasn't allowed in Ever Ever Land, but I don't know. I guess it doesn't matter."

Scully thought she saw a tear fall from Mulder's left eye as he recounted the story. "You're his hero, Mulder. He looks up to you, he adores you," she reminded him.

"I know," Mulder said, sniffling slightly. "But this note—Scully, it means that she's not going to interfere. I don't know if she's defeated, or resigned, or apathetic, but this means that we're in the clear."

Mulder took the note out of Scully's hands and slid it into his back pocket. As much as he wanted to ensure that Kyle did not see it, he wasn't quite ready to destroy it either. He knew that there was something that he was missing, that the note provided some clue that he did not yet understand.

"Mulder?" Scully repeated.

"Yup?" he jolted out of his fog, hoping that he had only spaced out for a few seconds; the look on Scully's face told him that she was worried.

"Sorry, I just know that I'm missing something here," he tried to explain.

"Do you want me to open this?" Scully asked for the second time, interrupted by some frustrated cries in the backseat. She turned over and saw that both boys were beginning to fidget in their car seats.

"Shouldn't they be genetically predisposed to long car trips?" Mulder cracked as he began to pull out of the parking lot.

"Them in their carseats is like you on an airplane," Scully bantered, Mulder throwing her a wounded look as they settled back on the highway.

After another round of Rubber Ducky, Mulder suddenly said, "Open it."

Scully carefully unwrapped the package, which revealed a photo album. She suddenly gasped upon opening it, quickly turning the pages and then flipping back to the beginning of the book. Now it was her turn to tear up. "It's their baby pictures," she whispered, surprised at how choked up she felt.

A wave of emotion swept through her; sadness and anger for not having been a part of the boys' lives from the beginning; anxiety for not knowing how they were treated; and relief and happiness that they were now with her and Mulder.

She continued to page through the album in a daze. She could see that William had been born a towhead, much like her, his hair growing darker throughout his first year, and that Nathan's hair became curlier as it grew. She then began to reexamine the background of the photos, hoping that there was some clue as to how the boys spent the first years of their lives.

"Most of these seem to have been taken at that house," Scully narrated. "There are no marks or bruises on the boys, thank God. But I see Valerie's reflection in a few of these photos, but they must have been taken at least six months ago—William is crawling."

"The whole 'I was just hired' routine was probably a lie," Mulder said. "She wouldn't want us to ask any questions. Every photo is there for a reason."

"There are a couple of shots of a girl, who looks to be about eight—dark hair, braids," Scully continued. "I'm assuming that's Amelia."

"She probably looks just like my sister," Mulder guessed, hitting the steering wheel with the back of his right hand, obviously frustrated.

"She does," Scully agreed, not looking up from the album. "Do you want to switch places?"

Mulder shook his head. "I drive faster," he pointed out. "I'll look at it when we stop for lunch. I want to make sure I see it before Kyle has the chance. I still don't know what I'm going to say to him. Is there any indication of Samantha in those photos?"

"I see something reflected in the mirror of a few of these shots. If we can get these scanned, we might come up with something. It looks like a woman's face," Scully said, moving the album around to try and get a better look.

Suddenly, Scully dropped the album. "What was that?" Mulder asked as he heard the thud. He turned to his right when Scully failed to answer him. His line of sight went to the floor, then to Scully's shaking hands, and then to Scully's quivering mouth.

"What?" Mulder asked, raising his voice higher as he guided the car to the breakdown lane. He killed the engine, and tried to tune out Nathan's immediate protest.

"It's us," Scully creaked.

"What do you mean?" Mulder demanded, his hazel eyes wide. He looked from Scully to the boys in the backseat back to Scully. He snapped off his seat belt and picked up the album from the floor of the car.

Panic rose up Mulder's throat as he flipped through the pages furiously until he saw that he was looking at himself.


	8. Chapter Seven

Mulder took another look at the photograph, which depicted the boys seated in a double stroller. Both of them were grinning widely, snuggled up in hats and fleece jackets. Mulder's eyes quickly flicked to the tiny date stamp on the lower right corner of the photo: April 12. His eyes fluttered back to the boys; Nathan was gripping onto his Thomas train, and Will had some sort of biscuit in his hand. The stuffed dogs were tucked next to their owners, and the same diaper bag that was laying at Scully's feet was peaking through the right side of the stroller.

His breath drawn, Mulder focused on the back left hand corner of the picture; while he was pointing to something towards his right, Scully was turning around towards him, clad in sun glasses, her flame-red hair bouncing around her ears. Although his face was obstructed from view, Mulder recognized Kyle from his school baseball uniform.

Leaning back in the driver's seat, Mulder searched his memory for April 12, and specifically, whether it fell on one of the long weekends Scully had spent in Manhattan with him and Kyle. "The Gunmen will be able to authenticate the photo…all of this photos," Mulder blurted out, turning to Scully, who silently nodded in silence. "We can't jump to conclusions."

"It makes me sick," she finally stammered. "I could have seen them—we could have looked right at them and not have known."

"I know," Mulder said quietly as he twisted around to get a good look at the boys in the backseat. Both of them were squirming in their carseats. He hadn't realized he was tuning out Nathan's requests for "Ducky" until the boy let out a frustrated wail.

"We better get going if we want to make it to the motel the guys recommended before dinner," he said distractedly.

"We're going to have to stop for supplies when we get lunch," Scully reminded him. "Let's just get takeout and eat outside at a park—the boys will need to run around. If we're lucky, they'll tire themselves out and nap."

And run around they did. Mulder was impressed at their energy levels—had Kyle been like that to at this age? It bothered him to think that he might not know the answer because he hadn't spent enough time with his oldest son.

After stopping at the first diner that didn't meet Scully's definition of a greasy spoon establishment, they found a neighborhood park that offered both picnic tables and some green space. With a child on each of their laps, they did their best to engage them both in a conversation. Both of the boys had been babbling constantly during the car ride, and Nathan was sputtering out words left and right. Scully could tell that William was well on his way in being verbal, as he supplemented his limited vocabulary with gesticulations. He also had the tendency to bounce and kick when he was excited, and Scully was sure that her legs would be bruised by day's end, a small price she was more than happy to pay.

After demolishing their food, the boys were eager to run around, barely giving Scully time to eat a few forkfuls of salad, although Mulder did get in the half of his chicken parm sandwich that the boys hadn't eaten after destroying their own grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches. "The rabbit food gene must skip a generation," he dryly remarked after Scully tried to coax the boys into eating some green pepper slices.

By the time they carried the boys back to the car, their eyes were heavy with sleep. Despite the relaxed, sleepy look on his face, Nathan was tightly gripping his train in one hand and his stuffed dog in the other, leaving Mulder unable to pry them from his grasp. William was softly snoring by the time he was buckled into his seat, a small spit of drool pooling around his chin.

"I'll be as quick as I can," Scully said as Mulder dropped her off in front of a Wal-Mart a few moments later.

"I better drive around the lot," Mulder responded, as Nathan began to fidget once the car was stopped. "But I need you to get two things."

"Seeds and what else?" Scully reflexively answered with a knowing smile.

"Make it three things," Mulder bantered. "A different CD because I have already had enough Ducky for two lifetimes, and pick up that Gameboy game that Kyle was whining about the other day."

"Bribery, huh?"

Mulder shrugged. "I haven't decided whether I'll give it to him," he explained.

By the time Scully returned to the car twenty minutes later, Mulder was singing a different tune. "If you got that much stuff for them, I think we'll have to resort to bribery," he stated, flustered that the back of the SUV could have been filled in such short order.

"Mulder, let me put it this way," Scully explained as she climbed into the passenger's side and buckled her seat belt. "How many suits do you go through on a case?"

"But I can't help that," Mulder protested, trailing off when he realized that Scully wasn't going to buy any of his excuses, and that if he said much more, he may not get the package of sunflower seeds that was peeking out of the bag at her feet.

Three hours later they reached the motel that the Gunmen had recommended with their assurances of being a family-friendly establishment; Scully noted that it appeared to be quite a bit cleaner than the fleabags that Mulder had dragged her to over the years, and judging by the number of minivans and SUVs in the parking lot, the Gunmen had certainly done their homework.

As soon as they shuffled the boys into the room, Scully went about fixing snacks, while Mulder poked around the bags that he had lugged in from the car. "Don't bother asking whether we really need this stuff," Scully said knowingly once she caught a glance at Mulder's perplexed face.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Mulder responded as he set down the jumbo bottle of tear-free shampoo. "But you did get some toys. Let's see what we have."

Both boys immediately abandoned all interest in their juice and crackers and whipped their heads towards Mulder. Nathan outstretched his arms as soon as he caught sight of a familiar logo with blue packaging. When Mulder looked up, he was startled to see how both boys' full attention was on him. "I guess I should have spelled it out instead," he quipped.

"I thought they might break the ice," Scully smiled, sitting down next to the boys on the floor. "There are a couple of other things in that bag you should open up."

After finally shredding the packaging, Mulder joined them. Nathan patiently taught them the names of the trains, and William immediately began to play with the Sesame Street blocks. Both Mulder and Scully were easily able to coax the boys into conversation as they began to alternately race trains and build towers, which William loved to knock down. "Why don't you give this one to Mommy," Mulder suggested to Nathan after the boy handed him both the Percy and Henry trains, which Nathan had just chased under one of the queen-sized beds. It was the first time he had used the m-word, and he knew that Nathan's response, no matter what it was, would help him figure out how best to communicate with both boys.

Scully let our a small gasp when Nathan immediately toddled over to her, handing her a green train with a smile. "Thank you, Nathan," she grinned back at him. "I forget this one's name. Is this…Woofy?"

"No! Woofy a dog," Nathan explained, tugging his t-shirt, which Scully noticed he had a tendency to do when he got excited. "Percy!"

"And which train does Daddy have? Is it…Big Bird?"

"No!" Nathan laughed. "Henwy!"

"Which one's Big Bird, Will?" Mulder asked, spellbound at the look of Scully's face and she gazed at the boys. He had seen a similar look before, when they were spending time with Emily, but this time, she was lighter—free from anxiety, at least for the moment. And he had to admit that he felt a surge of pride when he heard Scully refer to him as 'daddy.'

"Is it…this one?" Mulder asked William, holding up a blue block.

"Dat Cookie," Will said, as he tried to fish the yellow block depicting Big Bird from his pile of toy rubble. Looking at their sons, Scully thought she was going to cry—she had been holding back her emotions throughout the day, and the relief and joy of seeing the boys respond to both of them, and to seemingly accept them as their parents, washed over her.

After another half-hour of playing with the trains and blocks, Mulder's cell phone rang. "Which room are you in?" Kyle asked, out-of-breath. "I really have to use the bathroom."

"I'll be out in a second," Mulder, jumping up nervously, catching Scully's eye from across the floor. The last thing he wanted was for Kyle to walk into the room unprepared.

Just as he ended the call, Nathan pulled at his jeans. "I'll be right back, buddy," Mulder promised, leaning down to tickle him, and then William. Scully immediately began to distract the toddlers from Mulder's departure by pulling out an alphabet game from one of the many bags that lay scattered on the floor.

"I—We'll be back," Mulder said with a weak smile as he grabbed his sun glasses from the crowded table, and walked out of the motel room, into the heat.

"Dad!"

Kyle came running from Langley's car. "I HAVE to use the bathroom!" he whined.

Mulder sputtered, "Dana's taking a shower, so why don't we go to the office and see—"

"He can use our room," a tired-looking brunette, flanked by two small children in sun hats and swimmies, called out from two rooms down as she absent-mindedly played with her ponytail.

"Robbie has a time out," one of the children piped up before her mother even finished her sentence. "He was naughty."

"That gives you at least four minutes," the woman continued, looking at Kyle as she waved him into the room. "Robert, time out means sitting on that chair, not lying down on the floor!"

"Thanks," Mulder said with a polite nod, before shaking hands with Langley.

"Listen," Mulder said quickly and softly, "Take the black photo album tucked under the driver's seat. We need all of the photos authenticated. You'll know what I'm talking about."

"Sure, but we probably won't be able to get started until we're back in DC. I don't know how much we can do on the road," Langley said apologetically.

"Time's not an issue, at least not yet," Mulder responded. "I just don't want Kyle to see it."

Langley nodded. "He's been really great today," the blonde man offered. "Just be straight with him."

Mulder nodded. "Thanks for everything you've guys have been doing," he shared.

"It's what friends are for, Muldy," Langley finished as Kyle emerged from the nearby motel room.

"Thanks a lot!" Kyle grinned as he passed mother-and-children. It came quickly apparent that young Robbie had earned himself some additional time in the chair, as his siblings began to whine about the unfairness of the situation to their mother.

"We better go before we get yelled at," Mulder smoothly said to Kyle in a conspiratorial whisper. "Let's go over to those picnic benches."

"What's wrong?" Kyle immediately froze. "Something bad happened, didn't it?"

"No!" Mulder said loudly. "Why would you think that?"

"Because we're going to a picnic bench with no food when it's really hot out," the eleven-year-old pointed out. "When we could be in air conditioning."

"I do have news," Mulder compromised. "But it's not bad. It's actually kind of exciting. Well, I think it is and Dana thinks it is, but we have to run it by you before we have a household decision, so to speak."

Kyle gave his father a dirty look. "What aren't you telling me?" he demanded.

Mulder gulped. His son sounded like him when he was having one of those all-too-often bad days in the office. Although he would never admit it out loud. No wonder Scully had a low-tolerance policy for all things bullshit.

"First off, we weren't on an official FBI case today," Mulder apologized. "I should probably have cleared that up with you yesterday, but I didn't. We were following a lead on something important, but it wasn't with work."

Kyle shrugged. "So?" he prompted. Mulder could practically see how Kyle was trying to connect the dots in his head.

"We needed to find two very important—" Mulder slowly continued, wishing that Scully were there to prevent him from completely bumbling the most important conversation he could have with is son.

"Aunt Samantha?" Kyle interrupted, wide-eyed.

Mulder shook his head. "Nothing to do with that. I want to be clear that the only reason we didn't say anything ahead of time was because we didn't know how accurate the information was, and we didn't want to promise anything or get our hopes up too much."

"Did you find a taysia blue siberian husky breeder?" Kyle practically yelped. "You said we could think about getting a dog. And you always need to get two dogs or else they'll get too lonely. And that's why we can't take a plane back. And you used your undercover name because you wanted to outsmart other people who want a puppy but not as much as me."

"Kyle!" Mulder yelled as Kyle ran towards the room, calling his son back to the picnic bench.

"Shit," he muttered once he realized that Kyle was not listening to him, and chased after his son. By the time he caught up with him, Kyle was pounding on the door. "Wait, please."

"Dana, Dad told me that we got—" Kyle stopped short when he noticed two things: there were a pile of toys on the floor, and that Scully was balancing a baby on her hip.

Mulder panicked; Scully and Kyle's backs were towards him, and the only face he could see was that of Nathan, who was looking up from his trains and blocks.

Kyle slowly turned around to look at his father. "You owe me at least one dog," he sputtered.

"One dog in exchange for two brothers?" Scully asked, trying to keep the mood light-hearted. "That might be a fair trade."

"Brothers?" Kyle asked, before realizing that there was a toddler partially blocked from his view.

"Let's try this again," Mulder sighed, as he closed the door behind him. It was going to be a long trip back to the Vineyard.


	9. Chapter Eight

Mulder still couldn't tell whether Kyle was legitimately angry with him, or if he was just guilt tripping him; he figured it was a mix of the two, but he wasn't sure about the split. As he played with percentages in his mind, he turned his ahead away from the ceiling and towards the sleeping figures on the motel bed. Squeezed between him and Scully were the two younger boys, emanating the comforting scents of soap and baby shampoo.

Giving them a bath had been an ordeal; while William happily splashed in the tub, Nathan had done his best to avoid the water, whining and kicking as Mulder had placed him next to his younger brother. Once he had finally settled down, he and Scully learned very quickly that while William loved playing with his bath toys, he did not appreciate getting his hair washed. The loudness of his screams was such that Mulder was practically certain someone would be knocking down their motel room door with accusations of child abuse. Nathan took advantage of the situation, trying to climb out of the tub when he was sure his parents' attention was elsewhere. Mulder still didn't understand how Scully caught on and was able to lunge across the tub to catch the toddler before he fell onto the tile floor.

Once the boys were in their new pajamas, Scully asked Kyle if he wouldn't mind playing with them while they cleaned up the ungodly mess in the bathroom. Mulder noticed the flicker of surprise and pride that crossed Kyle's face when he realized that he was being trusted with his brothers. It allowed Scully and Mulder to snatch a few moments of privacy before they realized that it was _too_ quiet in the other room. Scully got up to investigate, leaving Mulder to mop up the rest of the soaking floor with the last of the flimsy towels.

"Not a good idea," Scully said once she caught on to what the boys were doing. While Kyle was reciting "twelve little monkeys jumping on the bed," Nathan was chanting "monkey" as he jumped up and down.

"But it's fun," Kyle whined. "And we're being careful. I'm bouncing on my knees so I don't knock them over."

"No jumping on the bed," Scully continued. She was torn; the last thing she wanted was a trip to the emergency room while quasi-undercover; however, the look of joy on the boys' faces was softening her.

"I'm a monkey!" Nathan shouted as he began to bounce on the bed again. Will was wobbling to get himself up, and Kyle immediately helped him steady himself.

"And I'm holding Will's hand," Kyle defended. "It's not really dangerous when we're in the middle of the bed."

"A lot of things are not really dangerous and we don't do them anyway," Scully pointed out as she lifted both toddlers onto the floor, secretly hoping that Kyle's bounce-a-thon had tired them out enough that there wouldn't be a bedtime ordeal on the same scale as their battle over a bath.

Luckily, the two younger boys fell asleep after a story-and-a-half, but four hours later, Mulder was still unable to slumber. Kyle was sleeping in the second bed, turned away from his family. He hadn't said much to his father since their bungled conversation, answering only when Scully spoke to him. Although it hurt, Mulder knew that it was a good sign that Kyle was talking to at least someone, and it looked as though he was having a good time with his new brothers.

Still, guilt weighed heavily on Mulder's mind. Guilt about failing his oldest son by not having been a bigger part of his life; guilt about failing Scully by not telling her of Kyle's existence; guilt that he hadn't known about the two younger children—basically he felt guilt about things that were no longer in his control. Instead of reassuring him, that fact just drove his guilt into overdrive.

Nathan and William were sleeping soundly, surrounded by their blankets and favorite toys. Mulder smiled as he saw the peacefulness in which Scully slept—he could count the number of times she slept in such peace. Her left arm stretched above her, snaking under the pillow that she and Nathan shared. Mulder gently played with the rings that were still on her fourth finger; he didn't know much about jewelry—a few years ago, he had stashed some of the pieces that he inherited into safes and safety deposit boxes in case he ever needed to go on the run.

Before Kyle had entered into the picture, he and Scully rarely talked about the future, only that they wanted to be together. Scully had once told him that marriage was irrelevant to her; if she wanted to be with anyone, she would be, through hell or high water. She wasn't going to be guilted into staying into a relationship because of marriage vows. From the bits and pieces she had let slip to Mulder, he knew that she had seen ugly things happen to people who stayed in bitter, unhappy unions. For some reason, he had always idealized her childhood, filled with siblings and loving parents. It was easy for him to forget that, like with him, she had an absentee father, constantly moved, and had siblings with whom she fought. They were both agreed that they wouldn't want anyone to have the childhoods they experienced.

He wasn't sure if he would want to get married (again) either. Despite his bitter divorce and the chaos it caused over ten years after the fact, he was a romantic at heart. There was no one else he would ever want to be with; rebuilding his relationship with Scully over the past several months had made them closer in many respects, and he didn't want anything to change. A part of him wanted Scully to wear a ring—not the one she currently wore—instead, something like the one his grandmother had left him. But he recognized that he and Scully, at heart, were rebels. They would do things their way.

Mulder knew that Preston would probably advise them to get married for practical purposes, and that he and Scully would do that, would do _anything_ to keep the children safe. "I love you," Mulder whispered as he finally let go of her rings, and instead slipped his hand into hers as he tried once again to fall asleep.

He woke up to Will squeezing his nose a few hours later. The dusty clock radio read five-thirty am; even though the alarm was set for seven, he knew that he wouldn't be going back to sleep. "Let's not wake up anybody, buddy," Mulder said as Will began to babble. As soon as they got out of the bed, immediately Nathan rolled over, somehow stretching himself over their half of the bed.

After changing the boy's diaper and listening intently to his garbling, Mulder figured out that he was thirsty. "Let's go forage for some food," Mulder quietly suggested, lifting up Will, who immediately pointed to his stuffed dog and blanket. Mulder scribbled a note to Scully, hoping she would find it on her bedside table, and headed outside, with Will in tow, grabbing a plastic tumbler cup as an afterthought.

They headed towards the small diner that shared the parking lot with their motel. They had eaten there the night before, and even Scully had admitted that the food was good, albeit greasy. Mulder ordered some coffee and homemade doughnuts, and Will charmed the waitress enough that she insisted on getting him some milk for his tumbler before they had even sat down. Will made quick work of his breakfast, and Mulder was thankful that Scully had the foresight to stop for clothes the afternoon before, as the baby had managed to make himself sticky from head to toe.

As Mulder sipped his coffee, he began to converse with Will. "Your Mommy isn't a morning person, not like us," Mulder told him. "So that means we get to sneak out and have some real food for breakfast, and none of her bee pollen yogurt stuff. But we'll pretend to like it sometimes, okay?"

Will looked up at his father, his green eyes wide with understanding. "Yes?" Mulder prompted.

"Yesh," Will repeated, reaching for the piece of doughnut Mulder was breaking off.

"So you and I can have our special time in the morning," Mulder suggested, holding will close in his lap. "Daddy usually goes out on a run. You can come too if you want. We can find a good fast stroller for you, and your puppy dog and blanket."

"Doggy!" Will repeated as Mulder nuzzled the dog against his nose.

"I think I owe you an apology for your nose," continued Mulder. "You and your big brother Kyle."

"Nose!" Will said, reaching towards his father's face.

"Good job, buddy," Mulder said, kissing the top of his youngest son's head. He marveled at the boy looked like a blend between his parents. While Mulder saw himself in the boy's facial features, his expressions reminded him of Scully, as well as her brother Charlie. Mulder had only met her younger brother once, but had thoroughly enjoyed their visit. Charlie and his family were due to spend an extended weekend with them over the Fourth of July.

During their walk back to the motel room, Mulder made a quick call to Preston, requesting that he access a safety deposit box for him, assuring the older man that it was fine if the items couldn't be delivered until their arrival on the Vineyard the next afternoon. It was 7:00 AM by the time they got back, and everyone was still asleep. It took about fifteen minutes for Mulder to get Will to cooperate in getting into a clean set of clothes on, and he knew that it would be hard to get the baby to stay quiet for much longer.

After making sure that Will was settled with the blocks that he had scattered across the floor, Mulder turned off the alarm and got into bed behind Scully, softly kissing her neck and right shoulder. As she began to slowly wake up, he pressed against her firmly. "Did the alarm go off?" she sleepily asked, trying to tilt her head to face him directly.

"Not in front of the children," Mulder tsked softly into her ear as he grounded his hips into her.

Immediately, Scully giggled. He couldn't remember the last time he had heard that particular laugh—it was the one she let out only rarely, usually when she was completely relaxed. Since no alcohol or sex was involved, Mulder took this as good sign. "It wasn't that funny," he protested as she managed to turn to him, resting her head on his left shoulder.

"It's just nice to wake up this way. I could get used to it," she softly responded as she turned to him, rubbing the sensitive space above his breastbone.

"I hope we do," Mulder responded, bending down to kiss her. He lost himself for a moment, and all of a sudden realized that room had become quite noisy. He broke apart from Scully, realizing that the commotion was coming from the boys. He could tell from his vantage point that Kyle was only faking being asleep, and was leading a chorus of "eeews" that the toddlers were eagerly mimicking.

Mulder sighed. If this kept off, it was going to be a long drive to Massachusetts.

Somehow they managed to meet Preston at their designated spot and time in northern Virginia. They were at another nondescript roadside restaurant; luckily, it catered to families, and the toddlers were busy coloring while waiting for their food. Preston slipped a manila folder towards Mulder and Scully, nodding at them to open it. While they skimmed the documents, Preston handed his keys to Kyle, and asked him to get something from his car. Once the boy was out of an earshot, he asked his clients, "Are you sure you are okay with this?"

Mulder and Scully looked at one another, nodding. "There won't be any suspicion?" Scully asked, afraid she was sound naive.

"None," Preston promised. "If anybody goes looking for anything regarding what is in this folder, they'll be in the system as soon as this afternoon. The birth certificates, everything, will all be in place by the end of the day."

"And the other?" Mulder asked, squeezing Scully's knee under the table.

"Everything," Preston reassured the younger man. "You have nothing to worry about."

"You'll put your guys on finding Sam, right?" Mulder asked.

"That goes without saying," Preston told him. "We've done a sweep, and Langley told me last night that there might be a partial photo image of the girl. We're on it, Mulder."

"Thank you," Mulder said absently, trailing off when he saw that Kyle was back within earshot, holding Preston's keys and a briefcase. As he looked around the table, he couldn't help but wonder what it would look like to have two other seats at the table filled.

"You're sure about this?" Mulder started to ask Scully quietly.

"It's not even a question," Scully reassured him. "We're in this together, partner."

Mulder sat back, thinking of how lucky he was to be surrounded with such love. Scully squeezed his arm again, as though she knew exactly what he was thinking. He then realized that she was discreetly pointing out that Kyle was speaking to him. Then the feelings of guilt that had sat on him over the past twelve hours finally just melted away.


	10. Chapter Nine

**A/N: I'm so sorry for not updating for so long. This is a much longer chapter, so please enjoy!**

They somehow made it back to the Vineyard in one piece. The last morning of their trip had been particularly trying, as the boys were making their displeasure of being cooped up in the car clearly known. The short drive from the ferry terminal to the house even seemed to take forever. Mulder had barely killed the ignition before Kyle bounded out of the backseat, making a beeline to the house. "What's taking so long?" he whined from the porch before running back to the car. "Can I have the keys? Where are the keys?"

"I'm trying to get this," Mulder grumbled, fumbling with the buckles and straps attached to Will and his carseat.

"Hold Nathan's hand," Scully instructed Kyle, setting the toddler down on the lawn. "I'll take over here."

"I can get it," insisted Mulder as Will's big eyes began to well up with tears. He could feel the sweat pouring down his forehead. Kyle had been giving him a hard time for his inability to master the art of safety seat buckling mechanics.

"Mulder," Scully warned, squeezing his shoulder. She quickly glanced back at Kyle, warning him to not say another word. "Go open the door, okay Mulder? I've got this."

"Will, this is going to be a lot easier if you just stay still," Scully said lightly, as she began to unstrap her son, fighting back a yawn as she did so. She had barely slept during their road trip north, waking up in fits, relieved beyond belief once she was satisfied that they were sleeping soundly beside her.

"Fox, you're back!" Hannah cheerily waved, crossing the lawn towards them.

Scully saw the look of shock cross Hannah's face as she took in the two dark-haired children who gazed up at her with solemn interest. She hoisted Will on her hip and bent down to Nathan, explaining "This is Hannah. Can you say hello?"

Will smiled and buried his face in his mother's neck before looking up at Hannah. Nathan took a more animated approach and started to quickly babble his hellos. Scully could only catch every third word or so, and pieced together that he was introducing his stuffed dog and toy train.

"The talker is Nathan," Mulder said, hugging Hannah in greeting. "And the littlest guy over there is William."

"This is like looking at you as a tyke all over again," Hannah said, holding onto Mulder's arm. "I know not to ask too many questions, but you're all okay?"

Mulder nodded. "We're fine, there's nothing to worry about," he said, his voice dropping. "We'll talk later."

Hannah understood. "Well luckily that realtor convinced me to keep all sorts of furniture on hand, so we can rustle up a crib or two," she chirped.

As they neared the back porch, Scully noticed Hannah begin to hesitate. "If you don't mind, only if you have a time, would you be able to help us out with all of this?" Scully asked kindly.

Hannah threw her a grateful look. "There's no other place I would rather be," she promised the younger woman. "I just don't want to intrude."

"You could never intrude, Hannah," Mulder touched that amidst her exhaustion, Scully had picked up on Hannah's tentativeness. "You're family."

Under Hannah's close supervision, Mulder and Kyle dragged out some cherry wood baby furniture from one of the upstairs rooms that was being used as storage. After tasking them with clearing out the bedroom across the hall from Kyle's, Hannah made her way downstairs, finding Scully watching over the toddlers, who were napping on blankets spread on the den floor.

"Fox said you had a long drive," Hannah said as they began to make a late lunch.

"It was brutal," Scully agreed, rummaging around the fridge for some cold cuts. "The boys had a hard time sleeping for too long in their carseats, which made things a little difficult. They pretty much passed out once they got some food."

"Fox was a bad sleeper at that age," Hannah reminisced. "And Kyle wasn't much better, but at least he grew out of it."

"So there might be some hope for us," Scully smiled. "I'm not sure if I'm equipped to deal with a house full of insomniacs."

"From what I've seen, you can hold your own more than adequately," Hannah shared. "And where a Mulder man is concerned, that is no easy task. Fox adores you, and Kyle really has taken a shine to you."

"Really?" Scully asked, surprised by Hannah's statement.

"He's a completely different compared to when I saw him last summer," Hannah said, cutting tomatoes. "You are a good female role model for him. You'll have your ups and your downs, but he has a solid respect for you."

Scully sighed. "I'm worried—this is a big change, and he's had so many recently. I want to make sure he doesn't get lost in the shuffle," she confided.

"You'll do your best," Hannah encouraged her. "Talk with him, let him know. But you'll certainly have your hands full with thee two babies alone."

"I should tell them that lunch is all set," Scully declared, excusing herself from the kitchen. She wasn't sure whether she had said too much to Hannah; it had been so long since she had someone besides Mulder to share her thoughts with so casually. She peeked in the den to see that both boys were still soundly sleeping, and made her way to the bedroom that Mulder and Kyle were turning into a nursery.

"Lunch is ready—wow, this is beautiful," Scully said as she walked into the bedroom that Nathan and Will were to share. Mulder had set the cherry wood crib on onside of the room, and a youth bed with a side rail on the other. There were two dressers, a changing table, a Big Bird nightlight, and a baby monitor set up on one of the dressers.

"Lucky for us, Hannah never throws away anything tenants leave behind," Mulder shrugged. "We still need to get a ton of stuff, but we were lucky to find all of the essentials. We might even be able to put off going shopping for a day or so."

"This is a beautiful crib," Scully whispered, smoothing over the railing with her hands.

"It actually was mine," Mulder offered, resting his chin on her head, covering her hands with his own. "Lyman fixed it up when Kyle was born, and since then, it's just been sitting around. Hannah said that a few tenants have used it, but it's no worse for the wear."

"How's Kyle?" Scully blurted out. "Is he taking this okay? Did you two talk at all?"

"I told him we'll both talk to him, together," Mulder said, rubbing circles on the back of Scully's hands with his thumbs. "He needs to hear this from both of us."

Scully wiggled out of her position and turned around, facing him. "What do we tell him, Mulder?" she asked. "I don't want to stress him out or scare him, but I don't want to lie to him either."

"We'll figure it out," Mulder said, wrapping his arms around her, massaging her lower back. "Do you want to see if we can get word to your mother?" He stopped speaking when he realized that Scully was shaking her head.

"No," she said resolutely, her blue eyes flashing. "My mother has made her feelings clear to me, and she wouldn't be wanting to leave Tara in San Diego with Bill out at sea. I can't take another fight with her, Mulder, and I certainly won't put these children through anything potentially ugly."

"If you change your mind—" Mulder began.

Scully cut him off. "I have you," she said, softening. "And I have Charlie and Karen, they're staying with us in a couple of weeks, so hopefully we'll be settled by then."

"Okay," agreed Mulder, playing with her hair. "If you want them to come sooner, that's fine too."

"We'll see," Scully said. "I just want some time for us to adjust. To learn to be a family."

Mulder bent down, tilting his head slightly, drawing Scully in for a kiss, which he quickly deepened. Scully only reluctantly pulled away when she realized that she could hear Kyle shouting for his father. "We're coming!" Scully yelled back, playfully swatting Mulder's shoulder when she heard him say 'or not' under his breath.

"It's only been a few days," she murmured as they made their way out of the nursery.

"Doesn't matter," Mulder rationalized. "Tonight, it's you and me."

"We'll see if we make it that late," Scully answered, stifling a yawn.

—

Mulder was doing everything in his power to make sure that Scully was not going to fall into a self-fulfilling prophecy. Even though Hannah had graciously insisted on cooking dinner, to allow them time to play with the children after they woke up from their naps, he still caught himself stifling yawns while playing trains and dinosaurs with Nathan and Will. Unfortunately, he hadn't been able to hide it from Scully, who caught his eye with an arched eyebrow, before Nathan had demanded her full attention, waving his blue Thomas train in her direction. Immediately Will had fallen suit, toddling over to her with a green stegosaurus. "Thank you, Will. Do you want to show this to Daddy?"

Will took back his dinosaur, and headed over a few feet towards his father. Mulder reached out his hand, ready to accept it, and Will surprised him by instead giving him a big hug. Mulder's heart surged for a moment as he hugged his youngest son back, before beginning to tickle him. Will's giggles prompted Nathan to toddle over and join in on the fun.

Scully, who was lying on her side, propping her right elbow to hold up her head, smiled as she saw Nathan and Will laugh with their father. She looked towards the doorway, and saw Kyle standing against the wall, looking over at the group shyly.

"Hey Kyle," Scully invited him over. "Want to play dinosaurs versus trains?"

"No thanks," he shrugged after a moment, surprising Scully, who thought that his hesitation was a sign that he would decide to play. "Hannah said that dinner will be ready in half-an-hour. Can I play video games? I did summer reading for like an hour."

"Sure," Scully answered before Mulder could get a chance to respond. She wanted to tread carefully, but she also didn't want to take the chance that he would refuse Kyle's request. "But I'm afraid these guys won't be very quiet."

"That's okay," Kyle mumbled. "Sound doesn't matter with this game."

Scully caught Mulder's eyes, and shook her head. "Wait," she mouthed to him, as he sat back with a confused expression on his face.

"What color is the train?" Mulder asked Nathan, who had begun handing him some of the toys. As he conversed with the two-year-old, he kept an eye on Kyle, who was looking straight ahead at the television screen.

Will squat down and picked up a triceratops, and looked between his parents, unsure of which direction he was going towards. He then unsteadily turned around, and began to walk towards Kyle. Without any preamble, Will stuck the dinosaur right in his brother's line of sight.

Scully's eyes were transfixed on watching the two brothers interact.

"Thanks Will," Kyle murmured, pausing the game to look at him. "But I'm playing my game. You can watch if you want."

And Will did.

Scully hadn't realized she had been holding her breath until she sputtered out a sigh once she saw Kyle give Will a sideways glance after the one-year-old remained next to him. Her heart seemingly burst, and when she locked eyes with Mulder, she could see that he was just as proud.

Mulder had to admit that he was hurt when Kyle had refused Scully's invitation to play with his younger brothers, and he became annoyed when Scully had given him permission to sulk with his video games. Although he didn't want to alienate his son by forcing him to play with his siblings, he also didn't want to give Kyle the impression that they didn't care whether he wanted to interact with them at all.

But Scully had known what she was doing, and he realized that what she had said in the nursery earlier that afternoon was true—that she was genuinely worried about how Kyle was taking in everything that had transpired over the past ninety-six hours. He hadn't doubted her sincerity, but watching the interactions in the den made him realize how determined she was to treat Kyle as her own while still respecting the fact that she still wasn't quite his parent.

Parent. Stepparent. He and Scully still hadn't spoken about the fact that technically, they were married, despite the relative lack of importance or necessity that such an event ever take place. Granted, the ceremony hadn't actually occurred, but the records were in place in the state of Virginia's database. Mulder's attorney had even taken care to choose a date and time that coincided with a dinner they had at one of the nicer restaurants in Alexandria with Scully's brother Charlie, and his wife, Karen, where they shared their meal in a secluded section of the restaurant.

And now, after bath time and bedtime stories for the under-three set, Mulder had to think on his feet for explaining all of this to Kyle. His position next to Scully on the love seat, opposite that of Kyle in one of the overstuffed arm chairs, made him feel as though they were under interrogation. Which, however, aptly described the situation.

"Why didn't you tell me I had brothers?" Kyle asked, biting into one of Hannah's chocolate chunk brownies after stating his first question.

"I didn't know for sure that you had brothers until the day we left for South Carolina," Mulder responded, realizing that he was not technically lying.

"And Dana's their mom?"

"Yes," Mulder responded, giving Scully's hand a squeeze. It didn't matter that Diana's DNA ran through Nathan, and Diana should be the last person for Kyle to worry about at the moment.

"So I have two half-brothers," Kyle stated.

"They are your brothers," Mulder immediately started, trying to lower his voice when he realized that he was sounding sharper than he intended. "What I mean to say, is they are your brothers. You don't hear me call Samantha my half-sister."

"But you call Uncle Jeff your half brother," Kyle immediately shot back.

"They are your siblings," Scully cut in. "Let's agree on that."

"Can I still live with you?" Kyle asked, looking as though he was trying not to burst into tears.

"Of course you're living with us," Mulder said, giving Scully a nervous glance.

"Why would you think otherwise?" Scully asked.

"What if something happens to you at work?" Kyle looked up with a worried expression.

"We talked about this, buddy," Mulder said. "If something were to happen to me at work, which most likely won't happen, you'll be with Dana. Is that still okay?"

"But Hannah said you would have her hands full with Nathan and Will," Kyle spilled, on the verge of tears. "So where do I go?"

Scully wanted to cry. This had clearly been upsetting Kyle all afternoon, but the boy had done an excellent job of masking his fear. "Kyle, Hannah just meant it as an expression," Scully said soothingly. "She was just making an observation. Did you hear what we were talking about before that?"

Kyle shook his head, still looking down, refusing to meet Scully's eye.

"She was telling me about how great of a kid you are," Scully smiled, pleased that Kyle was finally looking her in the eye. "And I already knew that. I know that we don't know each other real well yet, but we are getting there. But even before I got to meet you for the first time in March, I knew you were a great kid, because your Dad loves you so much. You have share some of your best qualities with him. And if anything were to happen to him, I would want you to be with me and your brothers. Is that okay with you?"

Kyle nodded, sniffling back his tears.

"Kyle, when you asked to talk to me when we were upstairs, fixing up the room, is this what you wanted to ask?" Mulder questioned his oldest son.

Kyle nodded.

"You were worrying about this all afternoon, huh?" Mulder quietly continued. He got up from this seat on the couch and knelt down in front of Kyle. "Promise me, the next time you have to ask me something like that, and I say we'll talk later, you don't take no for an answer, okay? You keep pestering me, please. I don't ever want you to have to go through that again."

Kyle embraced his father, soaking his tears in his shoulder. Scully bit her lip, unsure of whether she should move from her perch on the couch.

"Do you want to go up to the telescope?" Mulder asked.

Kyle stopped crying to say yes. "You get it set up, I'll be up there in a few," Mulder said, as Kyle clattered up the stairs.

Mulder dropped down next to Scully on the couch. "That was hard," he muttered. "I should have picked up that he was upset."

"Me too," Scully admitted.

"Do you want to go up with the telescope?" Mulder asked.

"He needs time alone with you," Scully said.

"But I don't want to exclude you," Mulder argued.

"So you won't exclude me the next time," rationalized Scully. "He's been sharing you with three other people for the past few days. This is going to be a big change for all of us, but he needs to know that your father-and-son time isn't going to be threatened."

"Wise words," Mulder murmured.

"I'm just thinking back from when my father was back on shore leave, and how hard it was to get some time alone with him. We used to read Moby Dick together, and I would get so angry when he would go back to sea without having read a chapter with me," Scully remembered. "Even a half hour with him, he'll treasure it. I know you will, too."

"I love you," Mulder said as he kissed her. "Wait up for me?"

"Always," Scully responded as Mulder headed up the staircase to join Kyle.

—

Forty-five minutes later, Mulder shed his t-shirt and cargo pants and crawled into bed, ripping Scully's medical journal out of her hands, and tossing it haphazardly onto the floor. "Muld—," Scully's words sunk into a heated kiss.

Mulder had nearly managed to get off her tank top before he lost all concentration when an awful scream ripped through the baby monitor that was sitting on the bedside stand. Scully rearranged her shirt and pull on a pair of shorts before she and Mulder ran towards the nursery. She flipped on the light, and saw Nathan crying hysterically in his bed, soaked in sweat.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" Scully asked him, bending down to feel his forehead.

"I bet he had a nightmare," Mulder suggested. "Kyle used to get them at this age."

"Did you have a bad dream?" Mulder asked Nathan softly. All he did was let out another wail, finally waking his brother in the process. Mulder lifted up Nathan, whispering in his ear that he was safe, but all the two-year-old did was let out another wail, waking his brother up in the process.

Somehow Mulder and Scully managed to move the toddlers, their stuffed animals, and blankets to the master bedroom, where they tried to calm the babies down. Scully had settled back into bed, cradling Nathan and rubbing circles on his back, hoping that the soothing motion would quell his tears. Finally, Nathan's sobs became hiccups as he clutched his mother for dear life. "It was just a dream," she whispered.

Mulder wasn't having much luck in quieting Will down either. He began to walk around with Will, trying to lull him into sleep, when he nearly bumped into Kyle at the doorway.

"What's wrong?" Kyle asked nervously.

"I think this little guy had a bad dream," Scully said. "Can you do us a favor?"

Kyle nodded, eager to be of help. "Can you go down to the kitchen, and get two of those plastic cups with lids, like the ones they had at dinner, and fill them with water?"

"I can do that," Kyle promised, running down the stairs.

Nathan immediately took the tumbler from Kyle a few minutes later, and took a long sip. His hiccups ended, and he looked drowsily at his older brother from his perch on Scully's lap. "I get bad dreams too," Kyle said, speaking directly to Nathan. "But they aren't real. They are scary, but not real. Dad's an FBI agent and he gets the bad guys. And then Dana, your mom, she cuts them up and stuff."

Nathan looked up at Kyle, wide-eyed with interest.

"Looks like you did the trick," Mulder said. "You made him stop crying. You're a good big brother. Want to try that with Will? Tell him a story?"

Fifteen minutes later, the toddlers were soundly sleeping, and Kyle was drifting off, lying down on the foot of the bed. Mulder could tell that Scully was nearly down for the count, too. "I'll put them back in the nursery," he assured her. "We don't want them getting used to sleeping with us."

"I know," Scully drowsily responded.

Mulder smiled as he noticed that she hadn't taken off the fake wedding ring that she had been wearing since they jetted down to South Carolina four days previously. He figured that she would have taken it off once they got home, but it had been a hectic afternoon. The ring was tasteful and expensive; it had been a piece owned by his grandmother, but he didn't want Scully to wear a wedding ring from their first nonexistent marriage.

Once he was satisfied that she was sleeping soundly, he turned over, careful not to jar any of the boys awake. He found the box that Preston had discreetly given to him in the restaurant in Virginia two earlier. He looked at the ring for a moment, making sure it was the one he wanted Scully to wear. It was his grandmother's actual engagement ring, an understated three carat diamond set with two smaller sapphires, and her simple gold band wedding ring.

He extended his arm over Will and Nathan's heads, carefully sliding off the first set of rings, and sliding on the new set. He thanked her med school education for giving her the ability to go into a deep sleep quickly. Mulder knew that there was a chance she wouldn't want to wear them, and he wouldn't be able to blame her if she didn't.

He smiled at the sleeping forms of his three sons and Scully, allowing himself a few moments to soak up the scene. Carefully, he put Will in his crib first, then came back for Nathan, and finally shook Kyle up softly, helping him to bed as well. After closing the door to Kyle's room, he walked back into the nursery, standing in the doorway and watching the two boys sleep.

He barely realized Scully had joined him, and he instinctively wrapped his arms around her as she hugged his side. "The rings are beautiful," she whispered as she kissed his shoulder.

"They were my grandmother's," he explained. "I've wanted you to have them for a long time."

"Really?" Scully asked, surprised.

"When we talked about marriage, that one time," Mulder whispered,"I know we decided it wasn't for us. What we have is so—undefinable, really. But even if there was to be no marriage, no formal union, I still wanted you to have that ring."

"Why?" Scully asked quietly.

"Because you are you," he shrugged. "I just wanted you to have it. My grandmother was an amazing woman, and it just felt right that it go to you. I look at that ring, and I see you."

"I love you," Scully responded. "And I'm never taking off this ring."

Mulder grinned, backing away from the door and leading Scully to the bedroom. "But everything else will go off tonight," she promised.

"That's my girl," Mulder teased, as he locked the bedroom door behind them.


	11. Chapter Ten

"Dad? Dad?"

Fox Mulder slowly opened his eyes. "What is it?" he groggily whispered, his oldest son coming into focus as he begun to get his bearings.

"We have to be at camp in twenty minutes," Kyle whined, stomping his right foot. "You have to register me."

Mulder's eyes flew to the bedside alarm clark. 9:10. Shit. Over the past two weeks, since their trip to South Carolina, he had been up by 6:30 AM every morning. He didn't even remember whether he had bothered to set the alarm at all the night before.

"I'll be down in five," Mulder croaked, realizing that his mouth was dry. "And—"

"I know, I know, be quiet," Kyle rolled his eyes as he exited the bedroom. Mulder sighed as he heard Kyle bounding down the stairs. He looked over at Scully, who was snoring lightly, and managed to disentangle Will from his side without waking the boy up. He found some jeans and a black t-shirt, not caring whether they were actually clean. He poked his head in the nursery, and saw that Nathan was in fact up, and playing with his train set. "Let's go on an adventure buddy, okay?" Mulder said, picking up the wide-eyed two-year-old.

Kyle was waiting by the garage door, tugging on his backpack straps. Mulder detected a small frown cross his face when he realized that Nathan would be coming along. "Sunscreen?" Mulder asked, scribbling a note on the white board by the fridge. He grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter, and hoped the diaper bag slung on its hook by the back door had enough stuff to keep Nathan occupied for a couple of hours.

He could barely get out the word before Kyle pounced. "Dana reminded me like four times already," he protested as he jumped into the SUV. "We're going to be late."

"We have plenty of time," Mulder assured his son, knowing that his words wouldn't carry too much weight. Kyle had been looking forward to participating in basketball camp, and Mulder had promised to make sure that they would be at registration once it opened.

Mulder tried to reconstruct the morning thus far as he strapped the toddler into his booster seat. It had been another rough night for them. Nathan's nightmares had returned after a four-day respite; Scully had sat up with him, not returning to bed until after two. Will was wide awake at four thirty, and somehow Mulder had convinced his youngest son (and himself) to go back to sleep before he woke up the entire household. Although the new parents had agreed to take shifts when one of the kids was up at night, the other never really slept well without their partner.

"Dana was up earlier?" Mulder asked Kyle casually as they inched out of the driveway.

"Yeah," Kyle mumbled. "She got some Cheerios for Nathan, and then told him to play in his room."

"What time?" asked Mulder, as he turned quieted Nathan's cries by turning on the CD player. He must have really been out of it that morning, if he hadn't realized that Scully was getting in and out of bed. Whereas Will always woke up ready to rock-and roll, Nathan was in the habit of playing somewhat quietly in his room for a bit before wandering into his parents' room, demanding breakfast and juice. He and Scully had debated whether they should separate the two boys, given their different morning routines, but finally decided to keep the chaos contained. He hoped that boys would be able to continue sleeping through one another's extended crying jags until they would get their own rooms when they returned to DC.

"I don't know. Maybe like 8:30? She said that she would wake you up," Kyle continued, his frustration apparent. "And then she never came back downstairs."

"She was up with Nathan for most of last night," Mulder said, hoping that he wasn't coming across as defensive.

"How could you not hear him? And when will they sleep like normal people?" Kyle asked, kicking the glove compartment, a habit of his which he knew his father could not stand.

"I don't know," sighed Mulder, feeling the onset of a headache, resisting the urge to tell Kyle to knock it off. He hoped that Kyle's bad mood was because he had trouble sleeping, and was not purely acting out because of the loss of his only child status.

"After registration, do you want to go swimming? We haven't done that in a couple of days," Mulder suggested.

"Why bother?" Kyle asked moodily. "You spend like an hour getting them ready and then we only get to go in the water for like twenty minutes and then we have to leave."

"Let's make it night swimming. Just you and me, bud," promised Mulder. He wished he could say that Kyle was exaggerating, but he wasn't too off-the-mark, especially from the perspective of an eleven-year-old. While Kyle could get ready for the beach in four minutes flat, it took much more planning with toddlers.

"You know, Kyle," Mulder began. "Scully's brother and his family are coming tomorrow. Peter is a little younger than you, but you guys got along alright when we met that time in DC, right?"

Kyle shrugged. "He's okay," he mumbled.

"Charlie said he would take you guys out fishing on the boat," Mulder said cheerily. "And I can guarantee that would be something you and Peter could do without your little brothers."

"Would you come?" Kyle asked, brightening.

"Sure," Mulder said, trying not to think about the inevitable sea sickness, which he knew was a source of constant amusement for his son. "If you want me to."

Kyle brightened considerably by the time they reached their destination; he hadn't complained once even after ten minutes of standing in the slow-moving registration line. He kept chatting along with his father, not commenting on Mulder's attempts to corral a hyper Nathan, and didn't even swat his brother away when Nathan began to tug on his t-shirt. Mulder debated which he preferred: Kyle ignoring his siblings completely, or Kyle constantly complaining about said siblings.

By the time they got to the front of line, Mulder was praying that Nathan wouldn't either run away or have a meltdown while he filled out Kyle's registration form, which looked longer and more complicated than the paperwork his new school had sent them. "Nathan, stay still," Mulder murmured as he tried to contain the two-year-old in the gap of space between himself and the table.

When Mulder turned around to break the news to Kyle that he didn't remember to bring his immunization records, Nathan grabbed the opportunity to make a run for it. It only took Mulder three strides to catch up with him, and he felt his face burning as he hauled the squirming toddler back over to the table. In Mulder's estimation, the line of inpatient families behind them seemed to have doubled, and a quick look in Kyle's direction confirmed that his son was as equally embarrassed.

"I think we'll have to come back," Mulder apologized, trying to project his voice over Nathan's cries. "I left the immunization records at home—"

"I have them," Kyle protested. "Dana put them in my backpack."

By the time he wrote out the check for the program fee, Mulder was too frazzled to be embarrassed. "If you can stay for awhile, we're getting some practice in now," one of the staff members said. "Just so everyone can get to know each other."

Mulder barely nodded to Kyle before he ran off to join the group of kids the counselor pointed out, hoping that Nathan would be able to burn off some of his own energy in a shady part of the park. Of course, as soon as he set the two-year-old down, the little boy held up his hands to be held by his father. "I think Mommy wants to talk to us," Mulder said as he set them down at a picnic bench while trying to find his cell phone.

"I can't believe I fell back asleep," Scully apologized. "And I don't know how you got Will to go back down. I feel terrible about leaving Kyle like that."

"Kyle's fine," Mulder said. "You saved the day, actually—thanks for putting that paperwork in Kyle's backpack. Standing in line like that was an X-File in itself. Scully, it was torture. Like Russia-level torture. Krycek doesn't have anything on a moody adolescent and hyperactive toddler."

He thought he could detect a throaty giggle from Scully, which triggered a smile of his own. "Nathan must be giving you a run for your money. I wouldn't expect anything less," Scully shared.

"Please say that you are standing nearby, and have decided to put me out of my misery," Mulder whined.

"Out of luck, partner," Scully admitted. "Will and I are actually heading to the farmer's market. I didn't want to leave it to the morning and then oversleep again. Charlie's crew is supposed to be getting here by eleven."

"Why don't we meet you there?" Mulder suggested. "And then we can get lunch."

"Sure," Scully agreed. "We'll see you soon."

"Wait," Mulder said.

"Do you need anything from the house?" Scully asked.

"Can you keep talking to me for a few minutes?" Mulder asked. "I just miss this. Just talking for the sake of talking. I don't even remember what we talked about last night even."

Scully felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. "Is there anything special you want to talk about, or is it safe to put you on speaker?"

Mulder nearly snorted as his laughter caught him by surprise. "I _always_ want to talk special to you," he slyly responded. "Let's just shoot the breeze."

Within a few moments, the tension in his neck had dissipated, and by the time Mulder reluctantly ended his call with Scully upon realizing that Nathan was due for another coat of sunblock, he could barely remember the stress of the morning. He motioned Kyle over and barely registered the flash of annoyance that had crossed the eleven-year-old's face upon getting a ten minute warning. Even Nathan's enthusiasm was practically contagious as Mulder spun him around upside down. He caught himself humming along to the Sesame Street CD as they made their way to join Will and Scully, only realizing that he was smiling when he glimpsed himself in the rearview mirror.

Mulder was practically giddy as he led the boys through the parking lot to the farmers market, Nathan on his shoulders and Kyle beside him, scanning the crowds for that familiar flash of red hair. He almost didn't recognize the small figure in a black t-shirt, khaki shorts, and flip-flops, holding the hand of a stubborn toddler who was insistently pointing to a display of cookies. "We have cookies at home," Mulder could hear her explain.

"Is that Cookie Monster I see?" Mulder asked Will as he set Nathan down on the ground with a flourish. Will wiggled out of Scully's grasp to grab hold of Mulder's right leg. "Or are you Elmo?"

Scully looked up, taken by how relaxed Mulder appeared, and how naturally he interacted with the boys—bending down to tickle the toddlers, reaching back to touch Kyle's shoulder, letting the older boy know that he was still listening to him. With his two-day stubble and with his hair not quite spiking but not quite flopping, he looked less an FBI agent and more like any other dark-haired guy pushing 40, enjoying summer vacation with his kids, not thinking about whatever upper middle management bullshit he left behind at the office. She tried to think back past the last couple of weeks—did he look like this the last time they visited the market, nearly a month earlier? Or were they still trying to get their leave-of-absence bearings, uncomfortable with the thought of trading their service weapons for canvas tote bags?, even just to buy the fixings for dinner?

She was caught off-guard when Mulder's mouth descended upon hers, and momentarily lost herself in the kiss; and she was most certainly not expecting him to deepen it. She felt herself blush as his tongue probed her mouth, and it seemed as soon as she got her bearings, he had broken away. She opened her eyes, gasping when she realized the intensity of his gaze. "Hi," she shyly whispered.

"Missed you," he said.

"I missed you too," she quietly responded, wondering whether they were causing a scene. As she looked around, she saw that no one was paying attention to them, as they were just a nondescript family unit, running errands as best they could with small children in tow.

She startled when Mulder slipped her hand in his, toting Will with his free arm, and Nathan teetering in front of them, with Kyle walking close by, darting between stands, trying to find his favorite whoopee pies. This simple act was still not quite natural for Scully; they had taken such care in hiding their relationship while in public over the past few years. She wished her instinct was to draw Mulder closer instead of pushing him away. She squeezed his hand, hopelessly overcompensating, hoping Mulder would understand what she was trying to convey without words.

"I love you too," he murmured in her ear.

The lighthearted atmosphere continued through lunch, where they were seated at an outdoor picnic table next to the water, lucky enough to get the benefit of the ocean breeze and shade. Once they ate, the boys were content to sit on their parents' laps and play with the toys found in the diaper bag; sleepy enough not to want to run around, but not tired enough to settle down for naps. "Early bedtime tonight," Scully hinted to Mulder, who gave her a wicked grin in return.

Mulder went to pay the bill, as Scully and Kyle collected everything that had scattered across their table. "I think we're cleaned up," Scully said as she picked up Nathan. Kyle had already taken Will's hand without complaint as they made their way through the crowded patio. Scully noticed a line building up at the front door, relieved that they weren't among the throngs of hungry and cranky children and parents.

"Isn't that the lady from the bookstore?" Kyle asked as he spotted Mulder talking to a blonde figure a few yards away.

Mulder waved them over. "I was just telling Caroline that she and the family should come over while your brother is here. The kids are the same ages," Mulder explained. "And this time we won't cancel on you."

Scully immediately arched her eyebrow. Suburban play date talk from Fox Mulder?

"Yes, Hannah told me you had to go out of town. I think she said that someone in Dana's family was sick," Caroline asked. "I think it was your aunt? I hope everything's okay."

"She was hit by a bus," Kyle piped up.

Both Mulder and Scully snapped their heads towards Kyle. Mulder knew that although his oldest son had been a pain-in-the-ass for the past few days, his comment didn't come from malice, but from mischief. A quick glance in Scully's direction confirmed that she was thinking the same, and Mulder was willing to bet money that she was trying hard not to laugh.

"But she's a lot better now," Kyle finished quickly, realizing from the look of horror on Caroline's face that he might be pressing his luck. "It's a long story."

"Well I'm sorry to hear that," Caroline replied, fumbling through her oversized tote bag. "Getting together would be great. I'm late picking up the kids, but since you're all here, I just wanted to make sure I got this to you."

She handed a manila envelope to Mulder, and gave Scully a small smile before she walked away.

Mulder stared at the envelope in his hand. He swallowed hard, and fought the temptation to look through it right then and there. "Let's get home," he said, picking up Will and heading towards the parking lot.

Mulder knew that he was the one driving the more subdued tone of the afternoon. Kyle was more settled now that he was registered for basketball, and had slung himself on the swing in the back porch, plowing through one of his summer reading books on his own initiative. Mulder reasoned that Kyle was playing-it-safe after his comment during their conversation with Caroline. Scully had set up the sprinkler in the yard for the younger boys, who were running themselves silly.

Mulder was comfortably reclined on an Adirondack chair, the manila envelope tucked underneath a glass of iced tea on the table next to him. He had nearly opened it a few times, reflexively setting it down whenever a drenched toddler demanded his attention. After about an hour of alternately toying with the envelope and setting it back down again, he unsealed it and gently shook the contents out.

There were five photos in total; one looked to be a class picture, featuring gap-toothed children, stiffly smiling at the camera. He quickly spotted Samantha, and next to her, Caroline; apart from their coloring, they were mirror images of one another, both in braids and collared dresses. One of the photos looked to be taken at a birthday party; it was impossible to tell who the birthday girl was, as everyone was wearing party hats and blowing on party horns, a stack of unopened presents in the background and a cake with six candles in the front.

The other three featured only Samantha and her best friend; Mulder immediately recognized one having been taken at the Chilmark house; both girls were dressed up, complete with jewelry and fur caps, what Mulder assumed were his mother's clothes. They were both drinking tea with their pinkies out, just as they would have been taught by Teena. Mulder guessed that the second photo was taken on a first day of school—both girls were holding up lunch boxes and had their arms around one another, grinning broadly, their braids framing their faces. The third was the only photo that was candid; the girls didn't even seem aware of the camera, and their eyes were glazed towards a television set. Mulder assumed it must have been taken at his Caroline's house, the decor of the room completely unfamiliar to him.

He wasn't sure for how long he had zoned out, but the next thing he realized was that Scully was kneeling beside him, the boys wrapped in towels, standing next to her. "Sorry," Mulder distractedly mumbled, sliding the photos back in the envelope. "I need a minute."

Scully watched helplessly as Mulder headed back into the house, unsure of what to do. After asking Kyle to take over the sprinkler, she made her way towards the den, where she found him standing, his shoulders shaking, staring out the window.

"Mulder," she whispered, sliding next to him, preparing to hear the dry heaves that accompanied his sobs. Upon facing him directly, she realized that he was not crying, but instead was clenching his fists as though he was trying to contain his anger.

"Step away, Scully," Mulder gritted.

"Mulder, what's wrong?" she asked, eying the manila envelope on the desk.

"I need to be alone," he said harshly, his voice rising.

Scully looked at him bewildered. "What happened?" she repeated, staring him down, not backing away.

"You really want to know?"

Scully tried not to flinch as Mulder's fist hit the table, causing everything to shake. "I've been looking for my sister for twenty-five goddamn years," Mulder began. "Two weeks ago, I was closer than ever. I had more fucking proof that she was alive in one morning than in the past twenty years added together, and you know what I do?"

"Mulder," Scully whispered, bracing for what he was going to say next. A part of her knew that this conversation was inevitable, that Mulder would we be processing it at some point; but that awareness in no way helped her to figure out how she could best help him through the pain.

"I did nothing!" Mulder yelled.

"That's not true, you gave the Gunmen and Preston everything you had. There was nothing else that could be done," Scully repeated, wondering whether she was trying to convince Mulder or herself.

"No Scully, I did nothing. I decided to pay other people to do the dirty work, and the worst part, do you know what the worst part was? I never fucking followed up. I did not make one phone call or send one email," Mulder rawly spat, picking up a vase and smashing it against the wall. "You don't want to go near me right now," he warned her.

"Mulder, you did what you could do," Scully repeated, knowing that her words were useless.

"I can't be here right now," Mulder interrupted her, his eyes vacant. With that, he stormed out of the house, and within seconds, was speeding down the driveway.


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Author's Note: **Thanks very much for the reviews thus far. I'm glad people are enjoying the chapters so far. The title for this story comes from the Foo Fighter's album _Echoes, Silence, Patience &amp; Grace_.

Hearing him speed down the driveway hurt. She knew that Mulder's confrontation with himself was inevitable, but for some reason, she had hoped that he wouldn't fly off the handle; that somehow, the events of the past few weeks would have softened him. Looking back, Scully realized how naive it was to assume that Mulder would turn inward, and take comfort in the security of their new family, instead of lashing out and pushing her—_them_—away.

A wave of panic suddenly gripped Scully, as he realized she wouldn't be able to run after him, at least not yet. She allowed herself to slump against the wall for fifteen seconds, taking in deep breaths. It was a trick she had learned while working during her cancer treatment; it was the closest she ever came to showing weakness, an exercise that Mulder had politely pretended never to notice. Ten, fifteen seconds at a time, that was all she permitted herself to spare back then, and that was all she would permit herself to spare now. She had already left the kids alone for too long.

Brushing away the single tear that had yet to splash from her left eyelid, Scully closed the den door behind her, reminding herself to not open it until she had cleared away the vase. Wandering back into the kitchen, Scully peered through the sliding door to the deck, watching Kyle chase his younger brothers around the yard. She fished some popsicles out of the freezer, grabbing a handful of napkins on her way back outside. "I have some treats," Scully called out, hoping that the smile on her face didn't appear too forced.

Mulder had barely pulled out of the driveway before the first waves of regret washed over him. "Fuck," he muttered, banging his palms on the steering wheel. His stubbornness prevented him from doing the logical thing—to go back home, and more importantly, to immediately apologize to Scully.

Twenty minutes later Mulder found himself back where it all began, in front of the Chilmark house, the exact place that he had scrupulously managed to avoid the entire summer. He shut off the engine, tilted his seat back slightly, and closed his eyes. He opened them to a jumble of memories; the lush green lawn and huge oak tree intermeshed with the pair of girls from the photos, hair plaited and lunch boxes swinging. He saw himself fearlessly climbing the tree, long limbs dangling. His mother was on the porch, looking more formal than motherly, fussing over a plate of snacks and pitcher of lemonade.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there before he realized that the sky was slightly darkening, and dancing shadows began to obscure his view of the front lawn. As he turned on the ignition and drove away, he looked back for a split second, and could have sworn he saw his sister wave goodbye.

—

"Where did Dad go?" Kyle asked as he ripped open his popsicle wrapper, shoving it back into the cardboard box. Scully had been wondering the identify of the culprit for that little stunt; she had been constantly peeling off sticky bits of wax paper whenever she opened the fridge or freezer.

"He had a few errands to run," Scully murmured noncommittally, busying herself with making sure that the toddlers sat down while they ate. The yard was getting muddy from the water, and with the Mulder family penchant for bizarre accidents, she wasn't taking any chances. "He'll be back as soon as he can."

For the first time that summer, Kyle didn't press the issue of his father's exact location. As she was mentally preparing some sort of explanation for why Mulder hadn't personally explained that he was leaving, she realized that Kyle had accepted the news without the slightest bit of panic or alarm. Her heart sunk; if Mulder didn't return in a couple of hours as she had just pretended he would, Kyle's progress on his trust issues would probably falter.

"What are we doing tomorrow?" Kyle asked.

"Charlie and everyone's arriving around eleven or so," Scully said as she began to wipe off drips of grape popsicle from Nathan's arms. "I think we're going to do a big cookout for dinner, but if I know my brother, he's going to want to get in the water with you guys and your cousins."

"So Peter and Noah, are they my cousins too?" Kyle asked, looking at Scully intently. She turned away from her task, figuring that at this point, only a bathtub full of soap would be able to clean Nathan's mess with any success.

"They are part of our family," Scully reasoned, nervously fiddling with a towel that had been draped across the arm of her chair. "I know they might not feel like it to you, and that's okay. You don't have to call them your cousins, and you don't have to use the words 'aunt' or 'uncle' around Charlie and Karen."

"I just forget that you and my dad are married," Kyle shrugged, sticking his mouth full of popsicle again.

That's because you can't forget something that never happened, Scully reasoned silently. "Don't worry about it. So do we," she responded, her restless hands running through Nathan's curly hair. "It's new for all of us…Are you okay with it?"

Kyle's eyes widened, the only indication that led Scully to realize that she had been speaking aloud.

"Yeah," he finally said, twirling his red popsicle around. "You're cool."

"Thanks," Scully smiled. "And for what it's worth, I think you're cool too."

It didn't hit Scully until a few minutes later that Kyle had pretty much spent the entire afternoon playing with his brothers, or at the very least, not complaining to them or about them. She wondered whether it wasn't so much the appearance of two small siblings that had been rankling Kyle, or whether his recent bout of brattiness was really about the adjustment of his relationship with his father. It bothered her that she hadn't figured it out sooner; she was no stranger to abnormal familial dynamics.

"Would you be able to do me a favor?" Scully asked Kyle casually, as Will handed her his rapidly melting green popsicle before wandering back towards the sprinkler.

He nodded. "Could you help me with your brothers? They are both going to need baths, and I think it will be easier if they go one at a time."

Kyle glanced back and forth between the two dark haired moppets. Nathan had abandoned his popsicle in favor of some mud, and was now sitting in a puddle, looking perfectly content as he squeezed clumps of grass and dirt in his hands. While Will wasn't sitting down and playing like his brother, his legs were caked with dirt and grass. "What do I need to do?" Kyle asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

"Don't worry, I'll stick with bath duty," Scully explained. "But while I'm with one, can you just play with the other, or read a book, and make sure they don't get into any trouble?"

Kyle looked doubtful. "But I don't really know what to do," he protested.

"You did great earlier today," Scully encouraged him. "When you were running around, they were having fun. And you tell them stories sometimes, and Will always sits next to you when you're playing video games. They like you."

"Really?" Kyle asked, taken aback. The look of shock on his face was reminiscent of the many faces Mulder had made over the years, particularly upon learning a blatantly obvious piece of information.

"Don't look so surprised," continued Scully. "You're a fun kid. I think you'll do a great job. And if it doesn't work out for some reason, then we'll try something else the next time. It's going to be a big help to me. They missed their naps today, so if we wait until your Dad gets home, they'll probably be really cranky."

"Okay," Kyle sighed dramatically. "I'll do it. I don't want them to get really loud. And since Dad said he'd take me swimming tonight, I don't want that to get messed up. So this benefits me maybe even more than it benefits you."

Scully arched her eyebrow, silently praying that Mulder returned home at a decent hour. "In that case, we have ourselves a deal," she confirmed.

—

The thought of directly returning home crossed Mulder's mind, but he didn't want to show up until he knew what he was going to say, and how he was going to say it. He grabbed his cell phone from the passenger seat, wondering if he had missed any calls. Usually Scully gave him a couple of hours' worth of space after an argument; like clockwork, he would storm out, he would ignore her phone calls, and then she would show up at his door.

He was an asshole.

But before he could face the music, he needed to clear his head, so he drove in the direction of Aquinnah. Normally he would go running, but he didn't have any of his gear. The next best thing was a walk, and his favorite brooding place on the island was the Cliffs.

He found his favorite bench, and pulled his cellphone from his pocket. No missed calls.

It hurt. There were a zillion different reasons for Scully not to have checked up on him, all of them justifiable. Then there was the fact that she was alone with the kids; they were a handful. Even during the handful of times over the past few weeks when he felt that they had the parenting thing under control, they were running ragged.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a little boy scramble up the other end of the bench, stand up, and promptly jump off. "Don't do that!" he heard the mother admonish.

"I'm sorry if he's bothering you," the woman apologized, pulling her son towards their group.

"Not at all," Mulder chuckled. "My boys do the same thing."

His resolve built, Mulder got up and walked towards the parking lot, hitting the speed dial on his phone. "I'm on my way home."

Kyle sat on the living room floor, a Disney picture book of Robin Hood on his lap. The inside cover had a mural of all the Disney characters in the forest, with a castle in the foreground. "Which one's Mickey Mouse?" he asked Will, who was freshly bathed and attired in Lion King pajamas.

Will pulled his forefinger out of his mouth and pressed it against the page.

"Good job," Kyle said, trying to ignore the drool. He was running out of ways to entertain his youngest brother; Dana and Nathan had been upstairs for almost a half-hour, and judging from the noise, it hadn't been going too smoothly. From what Kyle could tell, Nathan had escaped from the bathroom at least once. Will's turn had gone much more quickly, even though he yelled when his hair was being washed.

Kyle could hear Dana's cell phone going off, and passed the book to Will. He ran into the kitchen, and when he saw his father's name displayed, picked it up. "Hi Dad," he said cheerfully. "Are you going to be home in time to go swimming?"

"Of course, bud, I'm on my way home now," Mulder said, taking Kyle's mood as a good sign. "Can you put Dana on?"

Kyle clambered up the stairs, poking his head into the bathroom. "Dad wants to talk to you," Kyle said, his voice drowned out by that of his brother.

"Can you explain the situation?" Scully asked, trying to dodge some of the splashing. "I'm trying to make sure Nathan doesn't climb out of the tub again."

"Did you hear that?" Kyle asked his father, hopping down the stairs.

"Probably as well as you did," Mulder responded dryly. Not being able to speak with Scully made him want to get home even more. "I'll be home in fifteen."

"I'm sorry I was gone for so long," Mulder called out as he hung his car keys on the peg by the door leading out to the garage. He looked up, and realized that the kitchen was empty, despite it being the time the boys normally ate dinner. He saw that the den door was closed, and peaked his head into the living room, where he saw his oldest and youngest sons hanging upside down on the couch. While Kyle's legs hooked over the back of the sofa, William was much more precariously perched.

"Before you ask, Dana doesn't know," Kyle immediately spilled out.

"Obviously," Mulder wryly answered, tickling Will and picking him up.

"They've been up there for a zillion years," whined Kyle. "We're bored."

"Are you hungry? I'm assuming you didn't get dinner yet," Mulder asked.

"We had snacks," Kyle responded. "The less you know the better."

"Got it," Mulder said. "But you might want to do a better job of cleaning up the Oreo crumbs on your mini-me next time. Go grab a wet washcloth from the sink."

By the time Scully had made her way downstairs with Nathan in tow, Mulder was at the kitchen stove, flipping grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches, while Will sat strapped in his high chair, eating carrot sticks and sipping milk. "You are just in time," Mulder said as he began to cut the sandwiches into squares with his spatula.

"Thanks for making dinner," Scully said as she settled Nathan into his booster seat. "I know we have a couple of very hungry caterpillars."

If he couldn't tell by her voice, a quick glance at her face confirmed her exhaustion—it practically radiated from her face. "Were you giving your mommy a hard time?" Mulder asked Nathan as he placed his plate in front of him.

"No," Nathan's bottom lip quivered.

"Well you shouldn't," Mulder told his middle son, but more for his mother's benefit. "That's my job, not yours, buddy."

Scully couldn't keep back a snort of laughter, a small sign that let Mulder know they were going to be okay.

She felt his presence in the den even before his shadow cast over her, and the click of the closing door sounded across the room. She hesitated for a second before standing up, leaving the dustpan and broom on the floor. Before she had turned around, he was right behind her, his breathing somewhat heavy. She stared seriously into his eyes, batting down the urge to play with that lock of hair that always seemed to be standing up straight.

"I shouldn't have left," Mulder said softly. "I didn't mean to walk out on you like that. I mean I shouldn't have walked out on you like that. I wasn't thinking."

The look of remorse on his face pained her. "We can't keep doing this," she softly said. "The hardest thing for me to do was to not walk out after you. And then having to pretend that you were coming right back."

"You shouldn't have had to pretend," Mulder admitted, cupping her face with his hands, tracing lazy circles under her left cheekbone with this right thumb. "I shouldn't have taken off like that."

"Only you can be our boys' father," Scully continued, trying to control the groundswell of tears she had dammed over the past few hours. "But I need to know…are we going to be enough for you?"

"Oh Scully," Mulder spilled; slowly, everything rushed into place, the puzzle pieces clicking.

Scully was insecure. About him—about _them_. And it had nothing to do with her past relationships and personal hangups, and everything to do with the way he had acted over the years.

"You are more than enough," Mulder promised. "I never…Scully, I never meant to make you doubt that."

With that, he bent down to pull her into a searing kiss, one that showed none of the restraint of their earlier exchange at the farmer's market. Without any preamble, Mulder hoisted Scully up, her legs immediately wrapping around his hips. They ground into one another, the denim of Mulder's jeans scratching Scully's thighs, the friction making them both frantic. Suddenly, they were moving, and Scully felt her back slam against the wall without warning. Instinctively, she reached for Mulder's jeans, their hands fumbling to find buttons and zippers, Mulder taking advantage of their slight change in position to try and wrestle the fly of her shorts.

Their kisses slowed for a long moment, their eyes locked, and then, without warning, as quickly as they had stopped, they returned to their heavy rhythm. Scully felt a tug and realized that Mulder was trying to move them, and she pushed herself off the wall as best she could, propelling herself forward and Mulder backward. The next thing she knew, she was slightly airborne and then with a thump, she was on her back, melding into the couch cushions, with Mulder on top of her, his fingers looping into the waistband of her shorts and panties, pulling them down past her knees, her hands then working with his to do the same with his jeans and boxers.

—

Their coupling hadn't been that frenzied since the first time she had visited Mulder in New York. She remembered that night, and how nervous she had been, overly conscious of someone sleeping just down the hall. Flash-forward three months later, and she had apparently been successful in hurdling over those hangups, if her half-naked state and the possibly unlocked door were anything to be taken into consideration.

They rearranged themselves slightly, with Mulder wedging himself flush with the back of the couch, both of them laying on their sides. Mulder fussed with the afghan draped over the back of the sofa so it covered them, sliding his left arm over her, resting his head on her shoulder. "We need to talk," Scully murmured.

"I knew as soon as I was out the door that I wasn't handling it right," Mulder explained softly, holding her tighter. "I love you and the boys more than anything, and I wouldn't trade what we have for a second."

"We'll find her, Mulder," Scully said, before being interrupted by the blare of a ringing phone.

"Damn it," Mulder swore, trying to get off the couch, forgetting that his pants were in the way.

"It's probably Karen," said Scully as she reached out to steady him.

"Didn't she already call?" Mulder asked, vaguely remembering that Scully had been on the phone when he and Kyle had made their way down to the dock a couple of hours earlier. Of course, by the time he made his way to the cordless phone base on the desk, the ringing had ceased.

"She never calls once, Mulder," Scully reminded him. "I either hear from her three times a day or nothing for weeks. She and Charlie know something's up."

"Dad?" They could hear Kyle call out from the hallway, jiggling the handle. "Are you in there?"

Mulder unlocked the door, and Kyle bounded inside, holding out the phone to his father. "Who is it?" Mulder asked.

"It's Assistant Director Skinner," Kyle said. "He said it's an emergency."


	13. Chapter Twelve

Mulder snatched the phone from Kyle while exchanging a furtive glance with Scully, who was sitting up as best she could, clutching the afghan close. They both knew that a phone call from Walter Skinner was not exactly a harbinger of good news.

"Sir?" Mulder asked sharply, crossing the room to sit at the desk, hoping to avoid his son's steady gaze. Kyle was still standing at the doorway, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, knowing full well that he could be kicked out of the room at any moment.

"Would you be able to tell your goons that I come in peace and mean no harm?" the assistant director said angrily.

"Sir?" repeated Mulder, confused and distracted by his ringing cell phone, "Wait a minute."

Mulder answered the second phone, finally stating, "I'm leaving now." He ended both of his calls, slipping his cell in his back pocket, scrambling to find his shoes.

"What's going on?" Scully asked, trying to keep her anxiety at bay.

"It looks as though Skinner tried to pay us a visit," Mulder explained. "The security firm found him poking around my father's house. I have to go down there and sort this out."

"Did they say why he was on the Vineyard?"

Mulder shook his head as he battled with his sneakers. "He told them he was just stopping by to say hi."

"Do you believe him?"

"Would you?"

"Can I come?" Kyle asked hopefully, looking at the volleying glances exchanged by his father and Scully.

"No," responded Mulder warily. "You have to stay here. But you can watch the west coast Yankees game."

"The entire game?" asked Kyle hopefully; the game started when he usually went to bed.

"Yes," Mulder clarified as he ran a hand through his hair.

Placated, Kyle ran into the living room, and once Mulder heard the television blaring, he said softly to Scully, "Hopefully this won't take long, but I'm going to have the security guys patrol the area. I'll set the alarm when I leave."

Scully was surprised when she saw Mulder go to the safe under the desk, and pull out his ankle holster and gun. They both had to turn in their service weapons when they took leave; however, Mulder owned a few personal firearms; two were in the safe in the den, and two were in the safe in the bedroom closet.

"I don't think I'll really need it," Mulder reassured her, patting down his holstered leg. "I promise I'll call once I know what's going on."

Scully nodded; she was torn. As much as she wanted to go with Mulder, she knew she would feel better staying with the children. Even though everyone adored Hannah, Scully knew that she wouldn't feel comfortable with the older woman watching guard. "Be careful," she said solemnly, reaching out for him as he made his way across the room.

"Always," he promised, giving her a soft kiss. He popped his head into the living room to say goodbye to Kyle, but the eleven-year-old was staring intently at the television and barely gave a wave to his father. Mulder then made sure that the kitchen door was secure, and punched in the security code as he exited into the garage.

Mulder tore out of the driveway, cursing. What the hell was Walter Skinner doing on the Vineyard? As he sped towards his father's house, a million different thoughts ran through his mind. If this visit compromised the children's safety, there would be hell to pay.

He had seen the missed calls from Skinner on his cell phone when trudging back to the house after swimming with Kyle. He had ignored them, reasoning that if there truly were a problem with their security, he would have found out from the Gunmen or Preston; no way would Skinner be calling just to say hello.

Mulder was unsure of how much he truly trusted Skinner. He had a wary relationship with most authority figures, and as much as Skinner was a stickler for procedure, Mulder knew that his boss had his back, at least to a certain extent. What he couldn't figure out was Skinner's motive. For some reason, the idea of going out for a beer and discussing how Skinner crossed paths with Spender all those years ago had never crossed his mind.

But would he even want to know the answer to that question? He mulled that answer as he leaned over to fish a sunflower seed out of the bag he kept in the console. He immediately flinched, realizing that he had picked up a stray Cheerio instead, which brought a wry smile to his face. By the time he found his seeds, he was in front of his father's old house.

"Frank," Mulder greeted the security detail with a firm handshake.

"Bald guy and his lady friend are up there with Jimmy," Frank thumbed in the direction of the porch. "They triggered the silent alarm a couple of hours ago. He flashed the FBI ID, but that doesn't mean a God damned thing to me."

"Can you tell these fine, upstanding gentlemen who I am?" an angry Skinner spouted from his perch on the bench. Next to him was a raven-haired woman who looked vaguely familiar to Mulder.

"Maybe," Mulder shrugged, leaning against the railing. "But this would have to be an equal exchange of information. What the hell are you doing here?"

"I tried calling you a couple of times tonight, Mulder," Skinner seethed. "Maybe you would know if you picked up your goddamn cell phone."

"The nice lady with blue hair in HR was very clear when she told me that I was not to have any contact with work until September 10," Mulder said casually. "And I don't answer my phone when I'm spending time with my kid."

"Since when did you follow protocol?" Skinner snorted.

"Answer the question," barked Mulder. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"It was my idea," the woman interrupted them. "Walter didn't know before today that we were going to b here."

"And you are?" Mulder asked.

"Mallory Jenkins," the woman icily responded.

"From Justice?" Mulder was annoyed at himself for not being able to place her himself. He occasionally saw her at meetings. A few times a year his services were requested by Justice to rewrite profiles for cold cases that were being reopened. Mallory Jenkins had been one of the attorneys who he met with after completing a profile he had done back at the beginning of the year "What, do you have another cold case for me to work on?"

"Walter and I are vacationing in Hyannis with my family, and I surprised him with a couple of nights on the Vineyard for our anniversary. He mentioned that you were on leave, so we decided to invite ourselves over to say hello," she cooly explained, holding up a bottle of wine.

"So are you going to let us in?" Skinner asked.

"I don't have the key," Mulder shrugged, trying to maintain a poker face. He was surprised to see that Skinner had a girlfriend, much less one for a year. "Frank, do you have a key? Jimmy?"

"I might," Frank yawned. "But I might not."

Jimmy just shook his head silently, letting his imposing figure speak for itself.

"What the hell is this?" Skinner asked, eyeing the three men in front of him. "If you don't want us inside your house, that's fine, we'll just get going."

Mulder knew that he should probably pull back; that Skinner was probably just being polite in stopping by, even if the only reason were to prevent an awkward run-in while in public. "No one lives here," he began. "Apparently an unsolved murder doesn't do much good for a house on the market. We had an incident with some high schoolers making this their little clubhouse of misdeeds a couple of years ago, so I had a silent arm installed."

"It was triggered when you tried opening that window behind you," Frank finished.

"So the good ol' AD isn't above a little B&amp;E?" Mulder chuckled.

"What's with the hostility, Mulder?" Skinner asked, defeated.

"I just think that there is something you aren't telling me," Mulder said honestly. "And since it's not just about me anymore, I have to play it this way. So the next time you contact me, it better be because you want to talk. And next time, don't tell my son it's an emergency when it isn't."

Mulder turned around to return to his car, Frank trailing behind him. "If they come back here or if they go anywhere near my grandfather's place—"

"We'll take care of it, Mulder," Frank promised. "Jimmy and me, we have you covered."

"Thanks," Mulder said as he climbed into his car. He wondered if he had gone too far, but he needed to keep Skinner at a distance. He still wasn't ready for anyone from DC to learn about the boys; he knew that he wouldn't be able to keep it a secret past the summer, but he wanted to keep outside forces at bay for as long as possible. Although he would never peg Skinner as a gossip, Mulder didn't know much at all about the lawyer from Justice. At this point, the safest thing for everyone was to keep Skinner at a distance, and if that meant pissing him off, so be it.

"How the hell does he know?" Mallory whispered to Walter Skinner as they warily made their way to the rental car.

"I don't think that he does," Skinner responded. "There's no way he could have received this kind of information, with or without his political connections."

"Do you want us to drop it?" asked Mallory as she tossed the wine in the backseat.

"For now, yes," Skinner sighed. "We're certainly not going to get anywhere with him tonight. But we have a couple of days. Unless we change our minds."

After finding her clothes strewn under the couch, Scully made her way upstairs, checking in on the sleeping boys before jumping into the shower. She looked in on them again before taking the baby monitor and joined Kyle in the living room. "Who's winning?" Scully asked companionably, as she settled in her favorite overstuffed armchair, fishing the Sunday _New York Times_ crossword puzzle and a pen stuffed between the cushion and the side of the chair. She glanced at the date on the top of the page—she had been nursing this particular puzzle for two weeks, and it was still only about three-quarters completed.

It had become a game between her and Mulder over the past couple of years; it had started as a Sunday morning stay-in-bed tradition of coffee, bagels, the _New York Times_, and sex. She would begin the puzzle while inhaling her coffee, as Mulder would read aloud some of the more interesting articles, inserting his own commentary between bites. Once her coffee mug was drained, it would take about three minutes for Mulder to set his glasses aside, and the _Times _would be instantly abandoned.

Since Sundays at home were one of the few times during which they could go back to sleep after morning sex, they would take full advantage of that luxury. When Scully would wake up a couple of hours later, Mulder would be propped up by pillows next to her, taking control of the crossword. Slowly, Scully began to realize just how much of a sacrifice it had been for Mulder to give her the first crack at it; while Scully had found the puzzles to be a meld of challenging and relaxing, for Mulder, who thrived under constant intellectual stimulation, they were something of a drug.

Now that Sunday mornings were more chaotic, they barely read anything for more than a few minutes at a time. And somehow they had managed, independently of one another, to get into the habit of hiding the Sunday _Times _magazine. Scully scanned the page, and sure enough, there were a couple of clues filled in with Mulder's distinctive handwriting. She didn't realize that she had reflexively smiled until Kyle asked her what was thinking.

"I don't know, nothing really, I'm just happy," she responded, pushing away thoughts of the circumstances surrounding Mulder's sudden errand.

They lapsed into silence until Mulder called; although Scully knew that he wasn't satisfied with his conversation with Skinner, she was relieved that he was on his way home. It still, however, didn't stop her from checking in on the nursery twice by the time he returned.

Scully and her brother Charlie had always been close, even during those stretches when they rarely saw one another. They were thirteen months apart, and thick as thieves growing up, so it delighted Scully that Charlie and Mulder clicked right off the bat. Charlie was a tech guy, a programming developer; he also was a sucker for good conspiracy story, although he didn't necessarily take them seriously.

So Scully wasn't surprised when her brother's reaction to seeing her and the boys rolling a beach ball back and forth in the backyard was basically a sigh of relief: "Good, I was hoping that your phone call was about something along the lines of this."

Then, he immediately called over his tow-headed three-year-old, Noah, to join in on the game.

Peter, their redheaded seven-year-old, seemed as though he was bursting with questions, but was immediately shut down by his mother, Karen, with a simple look-with-a-capital-L. Unlike her laid back husband, Karen was direct, to the point of embarrassment. Her personality was the exact opposite of her sister-in-law, and perhaps it was for that very reason that they got along so well.

So Scully was also non-plussed by Karen's initial reaction to meeting her new nephews for the first time, which was to pronounce them adorable, direct her kids to play with their cousins, and to then grab her sister-in-law's left hand, inspect the diamond, and say in a stage whisper, "Please tell me that you are having great sex at least twice a day. At least twice."

Charlie immediately flinched when he heard his wife open her mouth, and Kyle and Peter grew red from their perch on the picnic table. In her peripheral vision, Scully could just make out Mulder's smug grin, which encouraged her to dryly retort, "Usually it's three."

Karen immediately cracked up, her long blonde hair falling in her face as she shook with laughter. It was the first time in the ten years that she had known her sister-in-law, that she could cajole anything regarding sex out of her. Scully snuck a look at Mulder, who had turned a shade of red that she had never seen before, but still had seemed to retain his smug look.

Dusk was falling when Charlie finally relented to Kyle and Peter's requests to build a fire, so they could make s'mores. The little kids had just been put to bed, having been sleepier than usual due to all of the running around they had accomplished throughout the afternoon. Nathan in particular was having a blast; Noah was six-months older, and his slightly younger cousin was picking up on all of his tricks, especially his propensity to constantly ask "why." Scully knew that they better get used to it; even if they were to break the habit, once Nathan hit that developmental milestone in a few months, he would be doing it all over again. At least it was a refreshing change from Nathan's usual chant of "no."

"Peter, did you give Kyle his present?" Karen asked her oldest son.

Peter ran back into the house, emerging a few minutes later with a wrapped package. "It's for me?" Kyle asked, confused. The look of wonder on his face almost broke Scully's heart; it was clear that the idea of receiving a small gift was something that rarely happened to him.

"It's a welcome-to-the-family kind of thing. Nothing too exciting," Charlie warned him as he poked the crackling fire.

Kyle flashed a grin as he ripped it open, crunching the wrapping paper into a ball and throwing it next to him. "It's a book," he announced as he flipped it over. "_Five Hundred Science Experiments to Do at Home_," he read.

"You're a jerk, Charlie," Scully immediately called out to her brother, trying not to laugh, falling back against Mulder from her perch on his lap. When she had emerged from the house with bug spray and the fixings for s'mores, Mulder had pulled her onto his lap.

"I sense there's a story behind this?" Mulder asked, clearly amused by the looks the siblings were throwing at one another.

"My brilliant sister, over here, the one with a goddamn medical degree," Charlie dramatically began, shushing his wife who had already started laughing, knowing the punchline of his story. "Do you want to hear the story or not?"

"Please continue," Karen snorted, rolling her eyes.

"My brilliant sister," Charlie repeated, "Decided that the best thing to get a boy for his sixth birthday would be this very tome."

"In my defense," Scully interrupted. "You were telling me about how Peter is such a great reader, and that he loved the science activities at his school."

"So in other words," Charlie bantered, "The blame of this tale lies with my wife's fault for being obsessed with a Montessori education. But before we get to that part, let me explain. My oldest son, Peter here, is brilliant, we all know it."

"I am," Peter agreed, playing with the marshmallow at the end of his skewer.

"Stop interrupting," groaned Charlie. "So Peter gets this book in the mail from his favorite aunt, who he will be living with if something were to happen to me and my wife."

"It's more likely that I'll just run away," Peter piped up. "Just saying."

"Anyway," Charlie piped up louder, in between sips of his beer. "Peter gets this book in the mail, and the next thing we know, our kitchen ceiling is covered in flour and egg yolk."

"But that's because I made the volcano right on the first try!" Peter protested loudly.

"And relax, we gave him his own copy. Peter still has is," Karen reassured everyone.

"Thank you!" Kyle shyly said as he ate his s'more. "Can we do an experiment tomorrow?"

"Within reason," Charlie promised. "Hell, I don't care. Do as many as you want. Just don't break stuff and don't break your brothers."

"I was thinking," Karen said. "You two should go out to dinner tomorrow—just the two of you. I know you've probably barely left the house. But there are a few rules."

"Oh really?" Scully asked, amused.

"You go to a real restaurant, a nice one," Karen began, ticking off her points on her fingers. "And you wear something nice, and you aren't allowed to talk about kids when you are out."

"And how would you know that?" Mulder asked.

"I know!" Karen insisted, giving a knowing nod to the others. "I have a second sense for these things. What do you think, Dana? It could be a late dinner, so you don't have to worry about whether the kids went to bed."

Scully turned around to look at Mulder. "What do you think?"

"That I already made reservations a few hours ago when Karen threatened to poke my eyeballs out with the wine opener if I didn't do it?" Mulder responded with a wry look on this face.

"You set me up?" Scully squealed.

"It was the only way you would agree," Karen defended herself.

"It's true," Mulder agreed. "It's a great place."

"How nice?" Scully asked, skeptical.

"Oh it doesn't matter," Karen snapped her fingers. "Because we are going to go dress shopping tomorrow."

"I don't have to do that," Scully protested, groaning at the thought. She rarely enjoyed shopping, and Karen knew it.

"I'll only make you go for an hour at he most," Karen promised, batting back the evil eye Scully was giving her.

"Fine," Scully responded, taking an angry swig of her beer.

She was met with a barrage of laughter by everyone sitting around the fire. "Oh my God," she complained. "You set me up again."

"I told you this is a fun game," Charlie said to Kyle, giving him a companionable punch in the shoulder. "It never gets old, Kyle. Now that we've had a practice round now, we can take bets for the rest of our vacation. She can't not say it for at least a few hours."

"That might be generous," Mulder dared to say before Scully threw an arched eyebrow in his direction.

"Your batting average may drop if you keep that up, Mulder," Karen managed to say before dissolving back into giggles.

"Fuck you," Scully muttered good naturally, immediately realizing that she fell into another wordplay trap.

"Always," Muder whispered in ear, holding her close.

Meanwhile...

"I just don't understand Mulder's reaction to what happened last night," Mallory Jenkins said to Walter Skinner as they walked from their restaurant to their B&amp;B. "You always said that he was very protective of Dana Scully."

"That's the thing, Mallory," Skinner responded. "I don't think he knew that she's the reason we came. I think he assumed we were here about something else."

"We'll have to track them down then," Mallory sighed. "This is going to impact her enormously. And we don't have much time before they find out from someone else. And that wouldn't be pleasant for anyone involved."


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Mulder couldn't remember feeling so relaxed, or having ever seen Scully so animated; for the first time since March, the tension in his neck and shoulders had completely dissipated. That first day couldn't have gone better: everyone was at complete ease with one another, the kids were having a great time, Scully was smiling. Kyle had even insisted on showing Charlie and Peter the telescope, much to his father's surprise.

The next morning was just as relaxing; when Mulder had gone into the nursery to check on the boys, he came across Nathan and Noah jumping on Nathan's bed, chanting "monkey!" Will looked put-out from his perch in his crib, giving his father a mournful look. Mulder wondered, however, whether Will felt ignored by his brother and cousin, or whether he knew he shouldn't be thinking of climbing out of his crib. Mulder could see the wheels turning in Will's head, and the look of surprise on the little boy's face when he first realized his father was watching him.

Scully had convinced him the evening before to set his mind at ease and check-in with Preston and the Gunmen about their investigation into what they had found in South Carolina. Not much progress had been made; the guys had chased down several leads, all of which had quickly become dead-ends. They were currently undertaking the slow, arduous process of authenticating the photographs from the album they had been given upon finding Nathan and Will. Langly reported that they were using the photos to test drive a new facial recognition software program, and were running into technical issues. They promised to keep Mulder updated, even if just to share they had nothing new to report.

"I know you won't like this, Muldy," Frohike had warned his friend. "But you might want to consider bringing in that brother of yours. His movements might shed some light into all of this, especially since he was Fowley's partner at the time."

"You might be right there," considered Mulder, hesitant to acknowledge that his friend was probably right. "Do as much as you can, and if we come up with nothing, I'll figure something out."

Mulder spent the bulk of the morning on the water with Kyle and Peter, while Scully and Karen took the smaller kids to a puppet show. Mulder enjoyed spending some one-on-one time with Charlie, who made it very clear that he had never seen his sister so happy. "And it's because of you," the younger man insisted. "I know you'll probably just tell me it's the kids, but it's not. I talked to her before you even went down to South Carolina, and I had made up my mind after that conversation to tell you this."

Mulder just nodded; under normal circumstances, he was unable to take a compliment; hearing Charlie's words just floored him. "She's everything to me," he managed to say softly.

"And I want to tell you," Charlie continued, playing with the billfold of his faded Sox hat. "That Karen and I are honored that you two made us the boys' legal guardians. Especially that you would trust us with your oldest. You know that Dana's in line for our kids, and we're going to add your name too."

"Really?" Mulder asked, taken aback.

"Only because of the house," joked Charlie. "No, but, seriously, we first discussed this after we saw you guys in March."

Mulder hung his head in embarrassment. "But that was right after I—right when I really screwed up. Or realized I had screwed up, I guess," he said, frustrated with himself.

Charlie let out a nervous laugh. "Yeah, that's one way to look at it, I guess," he admitted. "But believe me, it was really because my sister was still with you, despite all of that. I mean, I knew she loved you before then, I had heard about you non-stop. You should know as well as I do that Dana never would have given you the time of day if she really had any doubts after that."

"Don't I know it," Mulder agreed, pulling a water bottle out of the cooler. "I'm one lucky bastard."

XXXXXXXXX

Scully was amazed that Nathan sat through the _Three Little Pigs_ without talking and without fidgeting too much. He usually played with his trains and blocks when the television was on at home, never sitting still for more than a couple of minutes. Still, he always somehow managed to memorize the script of whatever was on in the background, frequently repeating his jibber-jabber monologues to anyone who would listen.

But throughout the puppet performance, Nathan sat transfixed, his eyes flickering among the scenery, the marionettes, and the strings and wooden controls above the set. He audibly gasped and pointed, tugging on his mother's t-shirt, while Will bounced in her lap every time the wolf came on screen. Afterwards, she and Karen then took the kids to the playground across the street from the arts center, where they burned off their excess energy.

By the time they got back to the house, the boys were all on the verge of a major meltdown, hungry and tired from being out in the sun. They were still whiny after wolfing down grilled cheese sandwiches and carrot sticks, and Karen set them up with pillows and fleece throws in the living room, leaving _Sesame Street _on softly in the background. "They'll be out in ten minutes," she predicted, walking back into the kitchen. "And then, we can go shopping. Which means, Charlie, that you are on Daddy duty."

Scully rolled her eyes at the interaction between her brother and sister-in-law. While Karen rattled off an unnecessarily detailed description of the afternoon's events, Charlie was sitting at the kitchen counter, staring at his laptop, alternating typing and nodding, with an occasional "yup" thrown in the mix. His eyes never left the screen during the entire conversation.

All of a sudden, Kyle and Peter bounded down the back staircase, the book Kyle received the evening before in hand. "Can we do some experiments?" they asked simultaneously.

"As long as you clean up afterwards," Karen instructed. "And don't leave anything out where your brothers might get into them. And if you go outside again, help me God Peter Andrew Scully, you better put on sunblock."

"We won't and I will," Peter promised, his words a jumble as he thumbed through the book, his eyes never leaving the page. Scully chuckled at the sight of the identical poses struck by her brother and nephew.

"Dana, didn't I tell you, they don't even look at me when I talk, neither of them," Karen complained. "Charlie—watch the kids, Peter—put on sunblock, and all three of you, Kyle included—don't leave stuff lying around, got that?"

"Yup," Peter and Charlie muttered simultaneously, both of them completely absorbed in their tasks. Kyle just stared at his new aunt, with a look reminiscent of his father's panic face.

"Where's your Dad?" Scully asked Kyle.

"He's being boring," Kyle answered, pointing to the backyard. "He's reading out there."

"We'll be back soon," she told Kyle as he began to pull out ingredients from the cupboard.

"No we won't," contradicted Karen, standing at the back door, waving her car keys. "Let's get out of here."

Before Scully could answer, she felt the force of twenty pounds of toddler hitting her right knee. "Someone's cranky," she sighed as she saw the splotches of tears fall on Will's chubby cheeks, his eyes red. He immediately threw up both arms, clutching Doggy tightly.

"I'm going to put Mulder on Daddy Duty," Scully explained, grabbing the diaper bag. "Three minutes, tops."

"Want to take a nap outside with Daddy?" Scully asked Will softly, gently bouncing him as she made her way to the shady hammock where Mulder was reading.

"Hey little monster," Mulder said as Scully passed Will to him. "Did you have fun this morning, buddy?"

"He's having some trouble napping. I think he's a bit overstimulated with everything going on today," Scully said, brushing back Will's hair. The boy immediately melded to his father, sprawled out on his chest, his eyes dropping slightly.

"Maybe a story from the latest issue of the Lone Gunmen will do the trick," murmured Mulder, dropping a kiss on the boy's head.

"Nathan's napping in the living room; Charlie's watching him and Noah, and Kyle and Peter are probably going to destroy the kitchen," Scully said, her hands moving to play with Mulder's hair. "Diaper bag is here, and it has his swim stuff too. Maybe being in the water will calm him down."

"Don't worry about us. Off with Karen?"

"Yup, but I hope we're only gone an hour or so."

"Take your time, Scully. Relax," insisted Mulder, holding onto her arm, leaving her hand on the nape of his neck. "Get yourself something nice."

"I don't need anything nice," she protested, thinking of how unpractical any addition to her wardrobe would be, unless it consisted of cotton, could hide stains well, and could withstand multiple cycles in the washing machine. The only reason she purchased expensive suits in the first place was because their durability made them the most cost-effective option. God, she hated shopping.

"Consider it getting _me_ something nice then."

"If that's the case, then, I better get going," she retorted. "Although a nap out here is tempting."

"I'll keep that in mind for tonight," he leered. "Eight-thirty dinner reservations. Cloth napkins, no sneakers allowed, and no plastic cups."

"No more hints?" Scully protested, pouting slowly.

"You're an FBI agent, you don't need any more hints," joked Mulder, softly rubbing his thumb around her wrist. "And unless you are packing heat right now, you are at the mercy of a bossy blonde who is giving you a mighty dirty look."

"I better get going then," she said.

"The sooner you go, the sooner you come back," Mulder reminds her as she bent down to give him a kiss.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

"Believe it or not, Danes, I didn't suggest this little field trip to torture you," Karen good-naturedly jibed.

"I know," Scully sighed as she mindlessly flipped through a rack of dresses, trying to remember whether she had already looked through them. She could feel a headache coming on, and tried to remember whether there was a coffee shop nearby. She was in desperate need of an early afternoon coffee fix.

"Have you reached the stage of feeling guilty for not feeling guilty for being out of the house for the afternoon?" Karen asked as she inspected a red, knee-length dress.

Scully chewed on her lower lip, signaling to her sister-in-law that she had hit the nail on the head.

"It's just a couple of hours, Dana," Karen said patiently. "It gets easier."

"I just don't know what the hell I'm doing," admitted Scully, her face crumpling slightly.

The flip side of Karen Mueller Scully's bossy attitude was her innate ability to take charge on a whim; within ten minutes they were seated at the back corner of a cafe, sipping on iced coffee. "You do realize, Dana," Karen began. "That seeing you interact with those boys—no one would be able to guess that you have only been doing this for a few weeks."

"I'm just worried," Scully responded softly, playing with her napkin.

"About what?" prompted Karen.

"About everything," sighed Scully. "Whether the kids will be okay, whether we can cope with work, whether Kyle will adjust to living in DC, about all the things that can go wrong."

"In other words," Karen interrupted her sister-in-law. "You are worried about the fact that you don't have control over much of anything."

"Exactly."

"So then why worry about it?" shrugged Karen. "There is no scientific maxim that as long as you worry a certain amount, things will turn out fine."

Scully just shrugged and nodded, not looking from the table.

"Dana," Karen said more seriously. "The anxiety never goes away, but it becomes manageable. You will do everything in your power to protect your children. Even when you don't immediately understand how to solve a problem involving your kids, you find a way to fight for them. And, if anything, you're a fighter."

Scully looked up and nodded. "Thanks," she quietly responded.

"Listen," Karen said. "I know that it's not the same, that I can't take the place of your mother or Melissa. But I'm here for you. Call me when you start to doubt yourself, whether its about time outs, or Montessori schools, or toilet training. We're family."

Scully hadn't realized how much she had missed them until Karen spoke, and then surprised herself when she realized that she was holding back laughter. "I'm just thinking," she managed to say. "How completely useless Melissa would be in this situation."

Karen immediately began to laugh. "That's one word for it," she chuckled. "When Peter was born, she sent us a silver baby rattle. To her, it was a keepsake. To us, and to every other set of new parents out there, it was just one more damn thing to clutter up the house. We still have it though."

"Remember when she complained there was no alcohol at your baby shower?" Scully recalled.

"I do, but what I remember better is when she walked out of the baby shower to go to a bar," remembered Karen. "And then called me for a ride home because she was too drunk to remember my address."

After a few more minutes of reminiscing, Karen stood up, announcing that she was dispensing her first piece of parenting advice. "You and Mulder have to make sure that you have conversations that aren't just about the kids," she advised. "You have to remember your own relationship. And somehow I'll figure out a way to justify why that means you need to buy a new dress, so get your ass in gear."

Forty-five minutes later, Scully emerged from the shop with a royal blue dress tucked in a bag, sister-in-law approved ("Don't even think of even _looking_ at anything in black," Karen had warned her when they entered the store). "Keep the receipt," Karen suggested as they made their way to the car. "Because you might need to get a replacement."

"I won't put it on until after the kids are in bed," Scully promised. "No crumbs, no messy hands."

Karen gave Scully a pointed look. "I was referring to the fact that Mulder doesn't seem the patient type, and judging by the look he gives you when you're wearing something like, well, what you have on now—"

Scully cut her off. "I get the picture," she interrupted, blushing furiously. "And he's _not_ the patient type, just in case you were wondering."

"This is a whole new Dana Scully," Karen said proudly. "And as much as I have enjoyed teasing you to the brink of humiliation over the years, I think I like your whole lets-play-along mentality a lot better."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After listening to Mulder read aloud a couple of articles in the new edition of the _Lone Gunmen_, Will settled down, enthralled by his father's voice. The steady rhythm of the baby's deep sleeping on his chest relaxed Mulder into napping a bit himself. When they both woke up nearly an hour later, he was thankful that Scully had the foresight to leave the diaper bag with him on the lawn, as he was too lazy to go back into the house to grab Will's juice.

"Hey buddy, want to go and play some splash-splash?" Mulder asked Will, who immediately broke out into a grin. Although the little boy loved the water, he loathed the application of sunblock, and began to whimper when he spotted his father reach out for the familiar pink and blue bottle of Water Babies.

"You know the rules, bud," Mulder soothed his youngest son, who immediately began to wriggle around his lap. "And this would go a lot faster if you sat still for a change. But who am I kidding?"

Will loved nothing more than to splash and kick around the water, and was soon happy as a clam. Mulder and Scully were trying to teach both boys how to swim, not wanting their water safety plan to rest solely on swimmies. One of their biggest fears was for one of them to fall into the water from the dock, something which could easily happen in a split-second. Both boys were always within arm's reach while near the water; Nathan, usually the family daredevil, did not like getting his face wet, and preferred the sand to the sea. Will, however, could float on the waves all day, and did his best to try to escape his parents' clutches whenever he was in the water.

"We're going to have think about getting out soon, kiddo," Mulder said to Will after a half-hour of floating, kicking, and splashing. "Your Uncle Charlie's outnumbered back at home."

"Boat! Dada, Boat!"

"Aren't you the little negotiator?" Mulder replied, pushing Will along as they floated to shore. He wrapped a sun-dried towel around Will, carrying him into the small motorboat, making sure that a life jacket was secure around him. Will looked disappointed when he realized that they weren't going anywhere.

"Go bye-bye?" he finally asked his father with a pout, point into the water.

"No bye-bye today," Mulder sighed, as he realized his phone was going off, reaching onto the dock to grab it from under his pile of clothes.

"Hey Scully," he said, holding out his hands for Will to play with as he talked.

"Karen and I just ran into Skinner, and his, um, friend," Scully cautiously began. "He needs—they need to talk to us."

"About what?" Mulder asked, immediately annoyed. "Can't it wait?"

"He said no," Scully softly responded.

"Scully?"

"He said it's about my father."

"_Your _father?" Mulder snapped.

"My father," Scully repeated, her voice still sounding small. "Can we—we're going to have do this at home."

"Of course."

"You know what that means, Mulder."

"He was going to find out eventually," Mulder reassured her. "Just come home."

Will looked up at his father, sensing that his mood had changed. "Mommy's on her way home," Mulder said. "Which means we have to get going ourselves, bud."

Will's face immediately crumpled when he realized that they were leaving the water, but his cries subsided by the time they reached the house. Mulder poked his head into the kitchen and chuckled, immediately closing the door. "Since Mommy's not home yet, let's go see if Hannah has a cookie or two for you."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Scully's first thought when she realized that Skinner and his dark-haired companion were standing by her car was what details about her sex life they could have possibly overheard. But as soon as she realized that their reason for contacting her had to do with her father, all those thoughts suddenly vanished. Even Karen had been rendered speechless by the announcement.

Skinner followed them back to the house in his rental, giving Scully the opportunity to fill Karen in on he was and why he could possibly have appeared on the Vineyard. "Sir," Scully said on the front lawn of the house, as he climbed out of his vehicle. "Agent Mulder didn't have the chance to fill you in last night. But there have been some changes since we both took leave."

"Let me remind you, Agent Scully, that it might be best if I did not know certain aspects of your, um, personal business," Skinner cautioned, holding up his hand.

"I think he would go down in history as the worst FBI agent ever if he doesn't figure it out in about five minutes," Karen snarkily offered, her hands crossed in front of her chest.

"Is everyone in your family this charming, agent?" Skinner asked.

"Don't worry, sir, she's only been in the family for ten years," Scully responded somewhat icily. "The real test is inside."

"Mulder? Charlie?" Scully called as she slid open the sliding door from the back porch to the kitchen. As soon as she surveyed the scene, her mouth immediately dropped open. The sheer amount of damage that had taken place during the two short hours they were gone was incredible.

"For fuck's sake!" Karen yelled. "Charles Christopher Scully, what the hell?"

Charlie was still sitting at the kitchen counter, engrossed in his laptop. It wasn't until his wife began to bellow that he snapped to attention. "What?" he asked tiredly.

Karen shut her eyes and swallowed hard, choosing her words carefully. "Charlie, where are Noah and Nathan?"

"Napping in the other room," Charlie answered immediately. "Oh shit."

Immediately, Charlie knew that he had made a huge mistake. Instead of napping, his son and nephew were sitting on the kitchen floor, with flour, water, and whatever else had previously been on the kitchen table strewn around the floor—and themselves. Everything was covered in a sticky, white paste.

And Nathan and Noah looked as though they were having the time of their lives.

"I asked you to do one thing," Karen complained.

"I got distracted," Charlie explained.

"Peter Andrew Scully, Kyle I-don't-know-what-your-middle-name-is-and-I-don't-care Mulder!" Karen bellowed from the bottom of the staircase.

"What do we have here?" Scully could hear Mulder's voice from behind her.

She whipped around to see Mulder pulling his sunglasses onto the top of his head, toting Will, who had crumbs all over his face, and was clutching onto a cookie. "Don't think you're getting off so easy on this," she warned him.

"But whatever do you mean?" Mulder asked innocently, peaking over her shoulder to survey the damage in the kitchen.

"You saw what was going on in here, and decided to take a little walk," Scully explained.

"Now Scully, don't make accusations that you can't prove," bantered Mulder.

"Don't ditch something as obvious as the diaper bag the next time," Scully answered, pointing to the abandoned evidence.

"My timing would have been perfect, except that Will here wanted to show off some of his new words to Hannah," Mulder smiled.

"Liar," Scully grumbled as she accepted a quick kiss from Mulder. It wasn't until Skinner awkwardly coughed that she even remembered he was there.

"But Mom! It wasn't my fault!" Peter protested loudly from the kitchen.

"I told you two to make sure that you put everything away," Karen explained, clearly exasperated.

"We put it in the middle of the table. They can't reach that far," Kyle said diplomatically.

"No, it doesn't work that way, not with kids," Karen interrupted him.

"We were only gone for like three minutes," Kyle continued.

"Nice try," Mulder offered his oldest son as he stepped into the kitchen. "But I don't think excuse is going to go very far."

"Down!" Will tried to say, pointing to where he saw Nathan and Noah crawling around the kitchen floor.

"No way, buddy," Mulder said. "Your mom is mad enough."

"Let him," Scully said, surprising all of the males in the room.

Karen just nodded. "You might as well," she agreed.

"It's not going to be much more of a mess if he joins in," Scully sighed, pulling the baby out of Mulder's arms and setting him on the floor, where he immediately joined his brother and cousin. "And if we have at least three happy kids for the next half-hour, I might even keep my sanity."

"Which leaves two unhappy kids," Karen pointed out. "Who will be on cleanup duty."

"If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself," Peter bravely declared, his blue eyes wide.

The rumble of Skinner's laughter quickly eclipsed the muted sounds Mulder, Charlie, and Kyle were trying to suppress.

It was going to be a long night.

XXXX

"I can see why you were suspicious of me, last night," Skinner said to Mulder as the younger man handed him a beer before standing against the porch railing. The kitchen cleanup had started in full force, but Mulder had begged off under the pretense of hospitality. Karen had given him a reprieve of twelve minutes, and Mulder was unsure as to whether she was serious, but had no intention of asking.

"I still should have calmed down enough to hear you out," Mulder apologized. "If I had realized that this was about Scully's father, I would have done things differently."

"I wasn't in a rush to explain myself either," Skinner admitted. "And you have more reason to be paranoid than most. Jesus, Mulder, two little boys?"

Mulder slowly nodded. "You know I would do anything to keep them safe."

"And you're still thinking of coming back to the Bureau?"

Mulder nodded. "Scully and I have discussed it, and we're going to give it a go. Sometimes hiding in plain sight is the best thing you can do," he offered, choosing his words carefully. "I need to make sure that I have high enough of a profile so my sister can make contact."

He stopped speaking when he saw Charlie make his way through the kitchen, towards the sliding door. "Sorry about all of that chaos, I think my wife decided it was mostly my fault," Charlie introduced himself to Skinner, shaking his hand before planting himself on one of the Adirondack chairs.

"I heard stories of the great, oblivious Charlie Scully, and I have to say, it was a pleasure to watch that in action," Mulder grinned, clinking his beer bottle with that of his brother-in-law.

Charlie immediately flushed, and began to nervously play with his bill of his faded Sox cap. "What can I say but that my reputation precedes me," he said with flair. "I hear you have something to share about my father."

Skinner nodded. "If it's all the same, I think we should wait until everyone's here," he said slowly. "It's really Mallory's story anyway."

"She's talking island history with Hannah," Mulder explained.

"Bullshit. She just wanted some cookies," Charlie joked, hoping to break the tension.

Luckily, it worked. The three men drifted into an easy rapport, which kept up amid the hustle and bustle of grilling dinner on the deck.

"These kids could go for an early bedtime," Scully explained to Mallory, who had insisted on helping her toss a salad. "I imagine that our conversation should be distraction-free."

"I think that's best," Mallory said nervously. "And this is really just for adult ears."

"The boys will be thrilled to watch whatever they want on TV for a few hours," Scully smiled, hoping to reassure her guest that things weren't usually as chaotic as the scene she had just witnessed.

Scully took a deep breath as she carried the salad bowl to the picnic table on the back porch. As she sat next to Mulder, he gave her a squeeze. She looked around the table, at her kids, at her brother's family, grateful that they were together.

Two hours later, everything she thought she knew about her childhood shattered.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**A/N: Thanks to everyone for sticking with the story so far! I appreciate the reviews.**

Despite her anxiousness in knowing what news Skinner and Jenkins wanted to share with her, Scully lingered in the nursery after putting the boys to bed. Despite his initial protests that he wasn't tired, Nathan had fallen asleep as soon his head hit the pillow. It took Will longer to settle down, but after rubbing his back for a few minutes, he drifted off. Noah had abandoned his bed in favor of sleeping in his brand new sleeping bag on the floor, a habit he had gotten into when he had received it for his birthday a few weeks earlier. Scully knew that it wouldn't be too long before Nathan would follow suit.

After picking up the baby monitor from its base, Scully softly closed the door, saying a quick prayer that the children would keep safe.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Mulder was desperately trying to find something on TV that would satisfy both a seven-year-old and an eleven-year old, after they both declared that all of the videos in the media cabinet were either boring or too babyish. "Are you sure that the Gunmen didn't slip you something good when we were down in South Carolina?" Mulder called out to Kyle, who was flipped upside down on the couch, stringing some chewing gum from his mouth.

"I'm sure," Kyle said as he popped the gum back in his mouth.

"Hey, if you get gum everywhere, you have to clean it up," Mulder warned.

"If you want something done right, do it yourself," Kyle retorted, in a perfect imitation of Peter.

"Stop that."

"If we were really in trouble, we wouldn't be watching TV," Peter pointed out from his upside-down perch on the armchair.

"It's because they're going to be talking about something we aren't supposed to listen to," Kyle told his cousin.

"Why can't we listen?" Peter asked.

Mulder thought he was going to lose his mind. "Cut it out," he finally said as he unearthed a stack of videos that had fallen between the shelves.

"The Godfather, parts one and two it is," Mulder declared, turning around to meet the wide eyes of both boys.

"I'm seven," Peter piped up. "My mom's going to flip out."

"But what about your Dad?" Kyle asked.

Peter shrugged. "He wouldn't notice."

"Obviously," Kyle cackled, as the two boys dissolved in giggles.

"Are you sure you are only seven?" Mulder asked his nephew.

Peter nodded. "I have a very high IQ," he said solemnly. "It can be confusing, especially for adults."

"So I gathered, Sherman," Mulder responded.

Peter rolled his eyes. "Everyone thinks they are the first person to call me that," he protested. "And I don't even have a dog. "

"So if you two find The Godfather boring, put on Wayne's World, and I promise not to tell your mom," Mulder offered.

"Only if we get soda too," Kyle bargained. "Then we'll close the door so you know that we can't hear you out there."

Mulder nodded and Kyle flipped himself off the couch, making a beeline to the staircase leading to the basement. Mulder knew that he had to start laying down the law with Kyle; he had been letting him get away with entirely too much over the past few weeks.

Once he was satisfied that the boys were settled, he closed the den door and made his back to the deck. He was closely followed by Scully, who sat in the chair next to his after pushing it slightly closer to him. Charlie pressed cold beers into both their hands; and once he finally sat down next to Karen at the picnic table, Mallory Jenkins began.

"First, I want to stress that I am coming to you in a purely informal capacity," Jenkins began, sipping on some water. "When I first began working on this case, I didn't make the connection at first, as Scully is a fairly common last name. But when I began to suspect the relationship, I approached Walter, who confirmed some details. Right before I went out on vacation, there were some developments, and I filled Walter in, and we thought it best to speak with you now, off the record of course. What I'm going to say to you is confidential, and I trust that you will be able to remain discreet after you are contacted through more official channels."

Scully nervously looked at Mulder, and then caught her brother's eye, hoping that he understood that she had no idea as to what Jenkins was getting at.

"Your father, Captain William Scully, served overseas for a good portion of your childhood, and you spent some time abroad, correct?"

"Yeah," Charlie responded. "Germany is what I mostly remember, a little bit of Japan. We all went over together. And he was back in Japan when we were in high school, but we stayed in California."

"Isn't Germany landlocked?" Karen asked. "I never understood why your father was stationed there."

"Germany's not landlocked, we've been over this," grumbled Charlie.

"Landlocked or not, Captain Scully was actually attached to the diplomatic corps," Jenkins replied.

"He was?" Scully asked, clearly surprised. A quick look in her brother's direction confirmed that he was also unaware of this fact.

"It was classified information, so you wouldn't have known" answered Jenkins. "It actually still might be, but in any case, your father was making a name for himself. After his post in Germany, you all moved back to the US. Annapolis, I believe?"

"Only for a few months," Scully confirmed. "He had a teaching post at the Naval Academy, and then when the semester ended, we went to San Diego, and he shipped out to Asia."

Jenkins sighed. "It wasn't a teaching post; he was assigned to the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Again, his work was highly classified. I have no idea what he was doing while he was there," she continued. "What do you remember about your time in the DC area?"

"My mother was very excited. She grew up in Baltimore, and her sister was still there," Scully offered, wondering where the conversation was heading. "She had lived her entire married life outside of the East Coast, so she was just thrilled to be back on familiar ground. She wanted to us to get to know her side of the family better."

"Dana and I are about a year apart," Charlie explained. "And we both skipped a year of school, so I remember being a fish out of water."

Scully nodded as she heard her brother speak. "It was much the same for me. I was in ninth grade, and Charlie was in eighth, so we were in separate schools for the first time. I was completely out of my element. I had no idea about anything—what tv shows people were talking about, what music they listened to. And then I had appendicitis, and missed a lot of school, and then we moved."

"When you first went to Annapolis, did you know that you would only be in DC for a few months?" Jenkins asked carefully.

"No, I don't think so," Scully answered, looking at Charlie.

"I doubt it. But Mom and Dad didn't really talk to us about those things, about where he might be posted. We were in Germany for a few years, so we had gotten used to not moving around a lot," explained Charlie, taking a swig of his beer.

"I was miserable, and I know Charlie was too. I was just excited to get out of where we were," Scully offered plainly.

"And your siblings?"

Scully and Charlie looked at one another, and Mulder immediately picked up on Scully's hesitancy in answering the question. "They were older," Scully offered diplomatically. "Melissa was almost eighteen, and she had made it clear to our mother that she was moving out as soon as she was legally able to, and would get her GED. And our older brother, well, he was out of the house by then."

Jenkins motioned for Scully to stop. "I see," she tightly smiled before looking over at Skinner, who nodded.

Mulder caught the exchange between the two, and turned to Scully to see whether she also noticed; judging by the look on her face, she did. He leaned over to squeeze her hand, finding it ice cold.

"Over that Thanksgiving weekend," Jenkins continued. "A seventeen-year-old Annapolis boy was murdered; he was reported missing on Thanksgiving night, and his body was discovered in Virginia three days later. Crossing state lines alone made it a federal case. Several suspects were questioned in the days following the boy's death, but all leads petered out. This was a cold case until it was reopened this past winter."

Mulder drew in a sharp intake of breath, releasing Scully's hand. "Did you know? Is that why you requested me?" he angrily asked.

"Mulder?" Scully whispered. "What are you saying?"

"Answer me!" Mulder gruffly commanded, his voice rising. He was looking straight at Jenkins; leaning forward in his chair, he was practically standing up by the time she finally answered.

"I didn't know of the connection," Jenkins sputtered. "I requested you as the profiler because you are the best, Agent Mulder. I was just handed the case file, told to make it my top priority. Why wouldn't I turn it over to you? I may not even have read the entire file before I passed it along. It wasn't until after I dug deeper, after you gave me your profile, that I learned that William Scully, Junior, was one of the initial suspects."

"You don't expect time to believe that," Mulder grumbled, unplacated by Jenkins' words, his voice rising. "The file you gave me included information on suspects, and I'm telling you that the Scully last name was not in there. Do you think I would have gone near it otherwise?"

"Just let me finish, please," Jenkins begged, clearly overwhelmed by the intensity of Mulder's reaction, the more muted looks of horror that the three Scully family members emanated, and two flashing pairs of icy blue eyes staring her down. "I know that you all have a lot of questions, and I promise to answer them, but, please, just let me finish."

Scully lightly tugged Mulder's arm backwards, prompting him to sit back in his chair, keeping her hand on his forearm, unaware that she was squeezing it tightly, her grip strengthening as Jenkins continued her story.

"Thank you," Jenkins said more quietly, as Skinner gave her an encouraging nod. "Again, a seventeen-year-old boy was brutally murdered; he was reported missing on Thanksgiving, his body was found later that weekend in a different state. Although several people were questioned, no arrests were ever made. As Agent Mulder just said, your brother was not mentioned anywhere in the case files. However, he may remember that he had suggested reviewing the testimony of a suspect whose name had been redacted. Subsequent to Agent Mulder's profile, I learned that the suspect in question was in fact your brother."

"First, being a minor in itself is rarely grounds for redaction in a case file," Scully immediately countered. "And Billy wasn't a minor at the time. He was eighteen, at least."

Jenkins remained silent, staring at her lap before looking carefully at Skinner.

"Are you saying that my father pulled strings?" Charlie asked, his hand shaking, knocking over his beer in the process. Neither he nor Karen moved to stop the spill. "That he interfered with the investigation?"

"I'm still piecing together the information," Jenkins responded hollowly, doing her best not to look anyone in the eye.

"Shit," Charlie interrupted, slamming his fist down on the table, the beer bottle spiraling onto the deck floor, the table practically jumping in response.

"Our father wouldn't do that," Scully insisted, once again tightening her grip on Mulder's bicep. "He valued integrity and personal responsibility. Covering up something like this is the last thing he would have done. I just don't believe it."

"Do you have evidence that Bill was involved?" Karen asked, breaking her uncharacteristic silence.

"Yes," Jenkins stated. "I can't comment on the exact nature of the evidence. However, we wouldn't have made any headway without Agent Mulder's profile. Given the conflict-of-interest here, we need to do a lot of leg work to make sure that we won't have to use his testimony in court. And we still have a lot more work to do. We want Agent Mulder's name to be as far away from this case as possible."

"How could so many people have kept quiet for so long? Why is the silence only being broken now?" Mulder asked, pulling Scully's hand off of his arm, and holding it to his chest, keeping a loose grip on her wrist. She had a tendency to withdraw in emotional situations, and he couldn't lose her. "And why was this pulled from the thousands of cold case files that are out there, gathering dust?" If Scully didn't have the momentary wherewithal to play the skeptic, he needed to step up to the plate.

"You as well as anyone should know that these things do happen," Skinner stated.

"My father had four children," Scully said with a shaky voice. "I can't imagine that he wouldn't allow another family to have the closure they need after the death of their child."

"I spoke with the victim's father," Jenkins responded. "He was under the impression that the evidence pointed to a suspect who died in a car accident a few months later, resulting in the case never being officially solved."

"That's terrible," Scully spat.

"They had closure; that's a lot more than most people can ask for," Jenkins responded.

"What do you recall about these events?" Skinner asked, leaning forward in his chair, and setting his beer down on the floor. "We need to know everything you remember in order to keep you out of this."

"I was in the hospital with appendicitis over Thanksgiving," Scully shared warily, looking down at the ground, refusing to make eye contact with either Skinner or Jenkins. "I got out of the hospital the next week, and then I was back in because I caught an infection."

"And you?" Skinner whipped around to face Charlie, who look slack jawed and exhausted. "Do you remember that particular Thanksgiving?"

Charlie sighed. "I don't know. Dana was in the hospital, and we had dinner with my aunt and uncle and cousins at my parents' place, and the adults went to visit Danes. It was like any other night when my parents were out—they are barely out of the driveway when my sister got out some pot. I think she had a friend over and then they all went out. Left me and one of my other cousin behind."

"Who was 'they?'" Skinner asked.

"My brother, Missy, my cousins."

"Their names?" Skinner prompted.

"The Kemps. Davey, Lisa, Shannon," Charlie said. "Davey and Billy were about the same age, and Lisa I think was Missy's age, maybe a little younger. Shanny was the youngest, she stayed behind with me."

"Do you know where they went?" Jenkins asked.

"No," Charlie scoffed. "And they probably wouldn't have told me even if I had asked."

"What about when they came back?" Skinner asked.

"I don't know," Charlie said, becoming frustrated. "I must have seen them the next day. I don't remember, this was 23 years ago."

"When did you find out you were moving to California?"

Charlie threw his hands up in the air in frustration. "I don't fucking remember," he repeated. "But Dana was home from the hospital. Or at least we found out together."

"How did your older siblings react?" Skinner asked.

"Missy was glad we were going back to California, she and my parents finally came to some sort of agreement, I think," Scully tried to explain. "She would stay in school, and move out after she got her high school diploma. Bill stayed behind because he was at the Naval Academy."

"I brought the case file for you to review," Jenkins added, as though the announcement were a footnote to the conversation. She bent over and pulled it out of her tote bag, waving it in the air. "It's incomplete, of course, but read it over. We can work off the books on this, Agent Scully."

"I don't want it," Scully icily spat. "That kind of evil does not belong in this house, under the same roof as my children. Get it out of here now."

Jenkins looked surprised at Scully's reaction, and glanced over at Mulder, as though he had ultimate authority over the matter. "You heard her," Mulder challenged the attorney. "Put it in your car now, just get it out. It has no business being here."

Mulder glanced up at Scully, as she withdrew her arm from his grasp and headed into the house. "Shit," he said to himself as he watched her slip into the kitchen and up the back staircase. But as much as he wanted to chase after her, he knew that she needed a few moments alone.

"I think maybe we should leave," Skinner coughed as he got up from his own seat; Jenkins was clearly still stunned from Scully's abrupt departure, and pretended to busy herself by rooting through her bag.

Skinner held out his hand to Charlie, who scoffed in return before heading out towards the water. "I'm sorry, he's just upset," Karen half-heartedly apologized, not getting up from her seat at the table.

"Thanks," Jenkins murmured to no one in particular as she wandered towards the driveway.

Skinner hung back. "You know this isn't over, Mulder," he said just loudly enough so Karen could overhear. "I get that this is a shock to everyone here, but you don't want to burn any bridges, not if it could keep Scully or her brother from having to testify in a deposition or on the stand. Because once they are under oath, anything can be used against them to attack their credibility."

"They were children, Skinner. You heard them; they didn't know about any of this," Mulder seethed.

"Mulder," Skinner growled. "I am not accusing Scully or her brother of hiding information. But you know full well that they need to be interviewed, and that they probably do know something and don't realize it. Remember, I came to you with this; I'm not the enemy, I'm probably the best friend you have, so stop treating me like I'm working against you."

"What's the time frame on this? Is there an indictment? A hearing?" Mulder asked, chastened.

"Nothing's scheduled yet," Skinner said, softening slightly. "He'll probably be extradited to Maryland in the next few weeks."

"Is he fighting the charges?" Karen asked.

"I don't know," Skinner responded.

"Does Scully's mother know?" Mulder asked, folding his arms.

"I believe she knows that her son is being investigated," Skinner said carefully. "She hasn't mentioned anything to you?

"Scully hasn't talked to her in a few weeks," Mulder cagily responded.

"We haven't spoken to her either," Karen explained. "She moved out to California a while back."

"If you do happen to talk to her, just don't mention that Mallory approached you about this," reminded Skinner. "And are you sure you don't want to see the file? I can't promise I can get it for you later, Mulder."

"It shouldn't be here, not with kids around," Mulder immediately responded. "If you feel strongly that we need to see something, contact my attorney in DC."

Skinner nodded. "We're heading back tomorrow," he said. "Scully and Charlie are going to be interviewed at some point; that's a given. They might as well get used to the idea now. If they feel like talking, I'll try to make some arrangements. I'll be in touch."

"Skinner?" Mulder called out as the AD crossed the lawn. "Thanks. I know we weren't easy on you."

"Jesus Christ," Karen said as they watched the car pull out of the driveway. She turned to Mulder. "Welcome to the family."

"I have to find Scully," Mulder whispered. He bounded into the house, practically running up the stairs. He first looked for her in the nursery; he quietly opened the door, but just saw three sleeping figures, barely making out their shadows cast from the Big Bird nightlight. He could tell that Scully had been in there; both Nathan and Will were neatly tucked into their favorite blankets; usually they kicked them off in their sleep. He carefully closed the door, and headed to their bedroom.

He found her curled up on an armchair, staring out the window. Her eyes were wet and downcast. "I'm sorry," Mulder said softly, sitting on the the ottoman, his hands resting on her knees.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Scully reassured him. "If my brother killed that boy, I want him locked away. In our work, Mulder, we've encountered so many people who have lost loved ones. People like yourself, left wondering what happened to their children, their siblings, their parents. And to a certain extent, I've been able to remove myself from those emotions. But looking at our boys, these thoughts keep running through my head. To think that my father, who constantly lectured us on integrity and personal responsibility—I just can't fathom this."

"You know," began Mulder, choosing his words carefully, rubbing his thumbs on her knee in a circular pattern. "Whatever he did, Scully, he did to protect his own son."

Scully shook her head. "Mulder, I don't believe for one second that this is the case of a good kid who snapped, someone who made one giant mistake. Growing up, things with my older brother were complicated, and my father…my father had said numerous times that he needed to clean up his act."

Mulder nodded, encouraging her to continue, but was met with silence. After a moment, he asked, "Was he violent?"

Scully nodded, looking away from Mulder. "I witnessed some things," she sighed. "I never trusted him. He beat up on Charlie a lot, but there was more to it than siblings getting at it. You know, Charlie has always arranged it so his boys would never sleep under the same roof as Bill. I don't even think my mother really caught on to it. I would have the same instinct, but that's what it is, Mulder, a strong feeling."

Mulder's psychologist training kicked into high gear. What Scully was describing, and how she was reacting, was not uncommon; she was being forced to think about events that she did not want to remember. From a clinical perspective, he knew that these memories wouldn't immediately resurface. From personal experience, however, he knew that she was fighting it, that the last thing she wanted to do was to remember the pain.

"My parents were good people who did the best they could with a difficult situation," Scully continued. "And I was a kid then, I didn't know the whole story, and I never asked. And I still don't know."

She then looked at Mulder. "And I don't think I want to know. You said a few minutes ago that whatever decisions my father made, he did so to protect his son. But right now, I want to protect my sons, and that means not exposing them to what will inevitably be a shitshow. I'm going to be questioned, Charlie will be questioned. Kyle and Peter will have to be told something," she ranted.

"Do you want to talk to your mother?" Mulder asked, swallowing hard, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"I'm going to have to," she said. "But I don't know what support I can offer her. She gets—maybe it's guilt, maybe it's just fear. But in the past she has been fanatical about supporting Billy. Maybe because he needs her support more than me and Charlie; we were always self-sufficient. But we had to be, because she was always caught up in something with him. So she gets in this pattern when she makes the most of any situation when one of us needs help. And then she resents it when we don't need it."

Mulder nodded, cupping her jaw towards him. "Listen to me," he said quietly. "We're in this together. I'm not leaving."

"I know," Scully whispered, tears silently dripping down her face, as she began to move towards him, slipping onto his lap, laying her head on his right shoulder, closing her eyes.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

Scully had fallen asleep on his shoulder within twenty minutes. He settled her into bed, and then went back downstairs to check on the damage that had been wrought during Skinner's surprise visit. The den door was still closed, and he could hear the TV blaring—he hoped that was a sign that Kyle and Peter hadn't overheard any of the discussion, or the ensuing drama that had played out that evening.

Karen was in the kitchen, making herself a Manhattan. "I raided your liquor cabinet," she admitted without apology.

"That's what it's there for," he said as she fixed him a drink as well. They clinked glasses, and he took a swig of whiskey.

"Is Dana alright?" Karen asked, topping off her glass; Mulder motioning her to do the same with his.

"She's sleeping," Mulder answered, rubbing his forehead. "It's a lot for her to process."

"Hmm," Karen scoffed.

"Why am I getting the feeling that this is the floodgates opening?" Mulder asked directly, settling himself down on a stool, dusting off remnants of flour from that afternoon's disaster.

"Because it's the perfect storm," Karen began, wryly smiling into her glass before looking up at Mulder. "The first two children Margaret and Bill Scully raised were rebellious, and so they took it out on the next two."

Mulder flinched.

"Not physically," Karen clarified. "Shit, I'm saying too much, but what the hell. They were strict though, especially when it came to school. I—I think you need to take to Dana and Charlie about this. It's not my place. I shouldn't have opened my mouth, but I'm assuming that you already knew this." She glanced over at Mulder, who nodded in confirmation.

"I know what you're getting at," Mulder agreed.

Charlie entered the kitchen, making a beeline for the whiskey. "Hey," he said glumly. "To put it lightly, that was a mindfuck."

"I think that you and Scully should sit down with my-our attorney," Mulder said, taking a slower sip of his drink. "I don't want you to get blindsided if this ends up going to trial."

Charlie nodded. "That might be a good idea," he said. "But the person who Dana and I really have to talk to is our mother. And I'm not ready to do that yet. I'm too Goddamned angry."

"Is everything okay?"

Mulder snapped his head around, seeing Kyle hanging by the kitchen entryway. "It will be, buddy," Mulder sighed.

"We know that something's wrong," Peter added.

"We'll talk about it tomorrow," Karen offered. "But there's nothing to worry about."

"We don't know everything ourselves yet, kiddo," Mulder shared.

"It's about your Uncle Bill," Charlie explained. "He did something he shouldn't have done, and it's turned into complicated adult stuff."

While Peter seemed satisfied with his father's answer, Kyle clearly had more questions. Mulder met his son's eye and slightly shook his head and motioned for him to come forward. "We'll talk about this later, okay?" he said quietly.

"I get it," Kyle glumly said. "We didn't mean to overhear stuff, it just got really loud."

"I know," Mulder reassured him. "We'll talk tomorrow, alright? You should get up to bed. It's pretty late."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

The first time Scully woke up the next morning was when Mulder climbed out of bed, whispering to her that he was going out for a run. The second time, it was to the sensation of someone pulling her hair. She slowly opened her eyes to see Nathan's devilish grin. "Hi-hi," he smiled.

"Hi-hi yourself, monkey," Scully said, leaning over and tickling his stomach. A quick look at the clock told her that she had managed to sleep for another two hours.

"Me too!"

Scully grinned at her nephew, and leaned over to tickle him as well. "Good morning, Noah," she said.

"Book!" Nathan demanded, handing over an oversized Richard Scarry book. Scully helped both boys onto the bed, one on each side, propping up pillows so they could all sit up and read together. They slowly went through the book, each boy pointing to different pictures, Scully coaxing them into showing different colors and animals.

As she watched her son and nephew insistently call out words, colors, character names, and animals, and the excitement that crossed their faces when they recognized Lowly Worm and Huckle Cat, she let her mind wander, but only for a moment. Did her own parents snuggle with her older brother when he was their age? Did they ever have an inkling of what could transpire in the future? Of course Nathan and Noah and Will and Peter and Kyle would have bad days, would fight with each other and their friends, would make mistakes, but she couldn't fathom any of them capable of anything so heinous and cruel as the charges her brother was facing.

She didn't realize that Mulder and Will had entered the room, and judging by the expression on Mulder's face, he had been trying to get her attention. "Sorry," she said, offering a weak smile. "I just got distracted for a minute."

"Do you want to go back to sleep?" Mulder asked, looking concerned.

"No, I'm fine," Scully assured him, dropping a kiss on Will's forehead as he scampered into her lap. "But I think that these guys might want to hear your rendition of Horton Hears a Who."

Mulder chuckled; it was one of the boys' favorite books, and to withstand the repetition, he had begun to read the story with various accents. Scully settled down on her side, the boys sitting against her, Mulder within arm's reach. It was the perfect way for her to begin the day.

After Mulder finished the book for the second time, he adjusted some pillows so he was facing Scully, the boys climbing around them. "Are you okay?" he asked, serious, leaning over to play with a strand of hair that fell in front of her eyes. "You looked pretty distant there for a second."

"I just got thinking," Scully tried to explain, not wanting to worry Mulder. "About how things turn out."

"Don't go down that road," Mulder pleaded softly. "Our kids, Charlie's kids, they'll be safe. Things for them are different."

"I know," Scully nodded, reaching out to grasp his arm, her thumb lightly gliding along his skin. "And do you want to know how?"

"How?" Mulder asked, his interest piqued, relieved that Scully was talking instead of shutting down.

"Because they have your compassion," she finished. "I see how sensitive they are, and how laid back, and how funny, and…these boys are the best parts of you."

Mulder was touched. "It's not just me, it's you too," he responded, leaning over to give her a kiss before Nathan pounced on him, with Noah and Will following suit.

Scully giggled, watching Mulder horse around with the boys, burrowing deeper into her pillow. After a few moments, she glanced at the clock, and asked if anyone was hungry for chocolate chip pancakes.

"ME!" Noah cried, with the two Mulder boys (and their father) chiming in loudly.

"Is anyone else up?" Scully asked Mulder as they helped the boys off the bed.

"I told Charlie and Karen to take the boat out. I figured they needed some time, " Mulder explained, swinging Nathan around as they made their way to the kitchen. "They might sneak off for lunch too. And I think that Kyle and Peter are still sleeping."

"Thank you for doing that for them," Scully said, smiling at him. "That was thoughtful."

Mulder held her gaze for a moment, before setting Nathan down and helping him and Noah onto some kitchen stools. During his morning run, he couldn't stop thinking about the air of vulnerability that had surrounded Scully the previous evening; how she had fought her instinct to shut down, and had instead opened up to him. When he watched her reading with the boys that morning, he only saw a wisp of that insecurity and fear. He knew that the last thing she would want to do would be to break down in front of the children. She had always been strong like that, hiding what she did not want others to see; only a handful of people in the Bureau even knew about her cancer diagnosis before she had been hospitalized.

But he worried. Compartmentalizing pain and anger was one thing; ignoring it completely was another. And Dana Scully never went halfway.

He briefly thought of asking her about calling Preston that morning, but let it go as he witnessed how she immersed herself in getting the boys breakfast. Mulder felt as though he was watching her physically push the darkness and chaos from the previous evening out of the way. She gave all three of toddlers their own spatulas to stir the batter, watching them ooh and aah as she poured in some chocolate chips.

"Nathan!" he heard her call out while he was busy making coffee; Scully's brother had single-handedly polished off the pot he had made after returning from his run.

"Uh-oh," Noah giggled, covering his eyes.

"Uh-oh," Nathan repeated, mimicking his cousin.

"Is at an oops uh-oh or a swear jar uh-oh?" Mulder called out to Scully, trying to sound as casual as possible, unable to view the damage from where he stood.

"Oops, oops, oops, oops," Will repeated, banging his fists on the tray of his highchair.

"A full bag of chocolate-chips in the batter uh-oh," surveyed Scully calmly. "So I guess that means we'll have to make some more batter and that your big brothers need to wake up soon to eat all of this. Or are you guys all hungry hungry hippos?"

"So what do we have planned today?" Mulder asked. "Or will we just be watching Batman, Batman, and Robin here sit in time-out all day?"

"No time out!" Noah scrunched his face, his voice rising.

"I'm just teasing you," Mulder half-promised, ruffling Noah's hair. He and Scully had a lot to look forward to in the coming-of-age department; the six months worth of vocabulary and brain power Noah had on Nathan assured them that they would be outnumbered once the boys got a little older—and a little more mobile.

"Maybe we can stop by the fair in West Tisbury? It's near the playground we like, so even if it's a bust, we can head there," Scully suggested as she began to flip pancakes. "Or should we wait until tomorrow?"

"Let's do it today," responded Mulder. "It will be quieter, and we'll miss the long weekend crowd."

XXXXX

Wrangling three toddlers in a crowded, public space was the perfect antidote for Scully's anxiety. She had no idea what she was thinking earlier that morning when she suggested that they attend the fair; but she clearly remembered that Mulder hadn't handed her a coffee mug until after they had nailed down a gameplan. Scully knew that the other option—the weekly art in the park event—catered only to the under five set, and she had wanted to do something that would appeal to Kyle and Peter. The same two boys who were whining at Mulder, who had refused to buy them cotton candy before lunch, and who was trying to explain that it also meant they weren't to buy any with their own money either.

Scully motioned to Mulder that she was taking the kids to a setup of picnic tables, so she could give them all another coat of sunscreen. As soon as he saw the pink Coppertone bottle, Will began to cry, and the older two tried to squirm away. She plopped Nathan in the second seat of the stroller, and got to work on Noah, handing him some animal crackers and juice once she was done. The other two figured out pretty quickly that they too were going to be bribed, and began to quiet down.

"We're going to visit the animals in the petting zoo," Scully explained. "And you have to remember to be gentle. We don't want to accidentally hurt them."

"I careful," Nathan reminded her.

"I know you are," Scully smiled. "And guess what animals we'll see?"

As she and the boys began to converse about farm animals, she snuck a peak at how Mulder was faring with the older children. He looked frustrated; she couldn't make out what he was saying, but judging by his body language and the sullen look on Kyle's face, it wasn't going well. Scully figured that anyone walking by would be surprised to learn that he was one of the Bureau's top hostage negotiators. When they had entered the fairgrounds, he looked like any other fortiesh guy on vacation—his hair a little too long, his sunglasses hiding dark circles under his eye from lack of sleep and a bit too much of whiskey with his in-laws the night before, sporting a five-o-clock shadow and in the company of his wife and kids. Now, forty-five minutes later, he just looked hungover, and in desperate need of a shave and a nap—or at least a couple of hours away from the chaos of the family.

Still, Scully rather preferred this Mulder to the GQ-ready Bureau secretarial pool favorite she had met six years prior.

Just as the boys were finishing their juice, Mulder stomped over. "Ready?" he said gruffly.

"Everything okay?" Scully asked. "You look stressed."

"Karen had told them last night that we would talk with them about everything," Mulder sighed as he readjusted his Ray Bans. "And they don't like being held off. I guess Charlie had said he would take them fishing today and they are both bent out of shape. I'd be annoyed too if I were them."

"If Charlie promised them, he'll follow through," Scully said encouragingly. "I'll talk to them in a few minutes. If I do it now, they'll think we're stonewalling them."

"I guess this how Skinner feels after we come back from a case over budget," Mulder snorted, half-serious, taking a a swig of water from the bottle he had managed to fine somewhere in the monstrosity that they called a double stroller. He immediately flinched when he realized that he unintentionally mentioned the previous evening.

"Probably," Scully said, squeezing his forearm to let him know that she was okay.

XXXX

Scully took the parenting lead with the older set as they made their way to the petting zoo. At first, Kyle and Peter were intent on pretending they had nothing to do with their younger brothers, and stayed as far away as they could from their siblings. To their chagrin, they failed miserably at their task, as multiple people pointed them to the direction of their family, mistaking their boredom for being lost. Scully knew that Peter was probably cursing his red hair, which she knew was probably the easiest connection that nosy tourists would make in trying to match lost children to their families.

"Gentle, now, " Mulder reminded Nathan for the millionth time as he went to pet a lamb. Nathan was one of those kids who didn't know their own strength, and his boy definitely packed a punch. He demonstrated once again how the should rub the lamb's coat, not tap it. Luckily, Daisy the lamb was quite mellow.

"I talk to lamb?" Nathan asked.

"Go for it, buddy," Mulder responded.

"Baaaa," Nathan said, lapsing into an uncharacteristic silence. Mulder realized that his son was expecting the lamb to baaa back.

Scully seized the moment. She made sure that Mulder had all three toddlers under control, and headed towards her nephew and stepson. "Can you help me out, guys?" she asked, as though she were proffering a business arrangement.

"Sure," Kyle shrugged, squinting at her, and readjusting his Yankees cap.

"I need you, both of you, to baaaa."

"Why?"

"Your brothers are trying to talk to the sheep, and they aren't exactly talking back," Scully tried to explain, pulling her hair into a ponytail.

"But that's not how sheep work," Peter pointed out.

"Therein lies the problem," Scully explained. "And you, Peter, are an excellent baaa-er."

Peter's face turned bright red, signaling to Kyle that there was a story behind Scully's request. "Why is Peter so good at it?" he asked in an exaggerated manner.

"Peter's favorite movie used to be Babe: The Gallant Pig," Scully explained, patting her nephew on his back.

"Really?" Kyle asked. "That was a good movie."

Peter immediately relaxed. "You liked it too?"

"Yup," responded Kyle. "So what are we supposed to do?"

"It's a secret," Scully said, grateful that Kyle had stepped up. "Unless, Peter, we decide to tell Kyle."

It took about three seconds for Peter to explain, and both boys moved closer to Daisy the lamb. In exaggerated, and half-heartedly disguised voices, they shouted "Baa-raam-eeew." Daisy turned around and made some sort of sound, and Nathan started jumping up and down.

Once Nathan was able to successfully talk with Daisy, he became antsy, and as they started to move towards the next pen, a little girl stopped them. "How did you make the lamb say baaaa?" she asked shyly.

"Well, it's a secret," Kyle said, bending down to talk to her. "But since you seem to be cool, we'll help you out."

Her blue eyes grew wide as Kyle and Peter repeated their trick. She almost didn't notice that Daisy had merely yawned in response. "She has a sore throat," Kyle explained when he saw a faint look of disappointment cross her face.

"Your son is wonderful," the little girl's mother said to Scully and Mulder. "You really raised him right."

"He's a great kid," Scully agreed.

As they made their way through the petting zoo, Kyle and Peter began to engage more with their brothers, and the other small children in the area. Peter put to use his encyclopedic knowledge of animals, and Kyle played off of him. Mulder cheered up at the sight of his sons and their kids having a great time; it was what he wanted to have happen.

"Puppies!" Noah called out, pointing to a pen containing a pile of small dogs, next to a sign for the local animal shelter.

"This isn't part of the petting zoo, so we have to ask to see if we can pet them," Scully explained.

"Can we play with the puppies?" Kyle asked hopefully. "Please?"

"That's what we are here for!" explained a college-age girl with blonde hair, who introduced herself as Jennie, a shelter volunteer.

"These guys are excitable, so why don't you three munchkins sit here, and I'll bring some of your new friends over okay?" she gently directed. Scully helped her arrange the boys, while Mulder reminded them that they had to be gentle.

Jennie scooped up three small dogs, and put them in front of the boys, while one of her coworkers brought Kyle and Peter to the pen so they could examine the dogs separately.

"I don't think I've ever seen Nathan so quiet," Mulder murmured to Scully, as the boys began to giggle at the licks they were getting from the dogs. "Do you think it's the dog or the blonde hair?"

"Stop it," Scully tried to keep herself from laughing. "You know we're playing with fire here."

"Well, we told Kyle that we'll think about getting that whatever-the-hell kind of husky he's been asking for since he was six," Mulder rationalized. "So he knows we can't get a dog here after we've been saying all summer we need to wait until we go back to DC."

Nathan and Noah soon got antsy, and while they began to play with the dog toys along with the dogs, one of the puppies climbed on Will's lap, delighting the little boy. Scully realized that the puppy was falling asleep, and Will was a bit stuck, not knowing what to do. Luckily, she was able to get some photos before Jennie was able to take back the pup. "He really liked you," Jennie told Will. "He only likes to take naps with his best friends."

Scully and Mulder locked eyes, both knowing that if they were in DC, they would be adopting that puppy in a heartbeat. As if he could read their minds, Kyle came over breathlessly, and asked whether they were still getting a dog.

"When we are back home in the new house, we'll be get a dog, as long as you take responsibility," Mulder repeated.

"Okay, good, I'm just checking. I thought maybe that you would get them a puppy instead," Kyle said sheepishly, a tinge of sadness to his voice.

"What do you mean, bud?" Mulder asked, concerned. "We promised we'll get a dog, we wouldn't take that from you. We've been through this."

"Okay," shrugged Kyle.

Lunch was a messy affair, as the kids were getting drowsy and tired from being out in the sun all day. Scully knew that they wouldn't have any problems going down for their naps today. The picnic table was cluttered, making Scully wonder how she was able to pack that much food into the cooler. As Mulder was half-heartedly cleaning up, unsure of what was to be saved and what was to be thrown out, and exhausted at the thought of packing up the stroller, he heard a whack and a cry.

Scully was at Will's side in a second; the one-year-old had lost his balance and thumped his head against the picnic table bench. There was a little bit of blood, and he would have a good bruise, but Scully figured he was scared and overtired more than anything. Peter found Doggy in the diaper bag, and handed it to his little cousin, who was whimpering in his mother's arms.

Scully held Will, and began to softly sing to him, "William was a bullfrog, was a good friend of mine" and by the time she got the chorus, "Joy to the world, all the boys and girls" his sobs had lulled to hiccups, and he burrowed his face into the crook of his mother's arm. As his breathing began to steady, Scully looked up, and saw an exasperated Mulder speaking with Kyle, who looked upset.

"I don't know what his problem is," Mulder said as he helped Scully transfer a sleeping William into the stroller. "I asked him to help Peter clean up the picnic table, and I don't know, he just got mad."

Scully surveyed the scene. "I think I might know. I'm going to talk to him," she said, squeezing Mulder's shoulder.

"Let's take a quick walk," Scully said to Kyle, who was standing against a tree.

"Can I come?" Peter asked hopefully.

"I need you to do something for me," Scully told him. "We're going on a secret mission which will result in junk food for you. What I need you to do is to pack everything up so it fits in the cooler, diaper bag, or the bottom of the stroller."

"That's easy. It's just sticking shapes together," Peter said, a little disappointed.

"It's easy for you," Scully agreed. "But Mulder doesn't know how to do it at all."

"You're joking," Peter protested, adjusting his glasses.

"She's not," Kyle said. "My dad's super messy."

Kyle's words convinced Peter enough to take his aunt up on her offer, and he headed towards Mulder.

Scully wasn't sure how to begin, so she decided to take a direct approach. "I know this isn't really the best place for it, but I want to talk," she started. "And I want to make sure you know that it's okay that you miss your mom."

"Really?" Kyle asked, looking up at Scully. The look he gave her conveyed how vulnerable he was feeling, and Scully shuddered, wondering how long Kyle had been feeling like this without anyone picking up on it.

"Really," she said, steering them to a wooden bench by one of the more secluded displays. "And it's okay if you feel different things at once. I'm not trying to tell you what you are feeling, but I know that sometimes when you are mad at someone and still miss them…that it can be really hard."

"I don't like her now but we used to do fun things," Kyle explained. "And I was remembering this one time when I was little and me and Mom and Dad went here."

"Did you have a fun time?"

"It was the best," Kyle smiled. "And I got to play one of those gun games, and I got a prize. And I was really excited."

Scully grinned. She knew how hard Mulder had worked to keep a civil relationship with Diana; he had done that for his son's sake, and Kyle was all the better for it.

"I know that it's hard right now, and we're all still getting used to one another," Scully said. "And I know that it has to be weird that your little brothers have a mother who isn't your mother. And that she isn't here too."

"It usually doesn't bother me, but sometimes I think about it," Kyle explained, rubbing his eyes.

"Like when I was holding Will after he fell?" Scully asked.

Kyle looked at her shyly, and nodded.

They lapsed into silence for a moment, as Scully tried to figure out how to convey what she felt. She thought about how many families they had seen over the course of the day; the number of young children who Kyle had been playing with at the petting zoo, all of whom grinned at their parents when they realized that the animals were talking back at them. How Kyle had noticed her and Mulder watching Nathan and Will with the puppies.

"I'm here for you," Scully finally said. "I know that I'm not your Mom, and it wouldn't be the same as what it's like with your Mom, but if you need anything, a hug, someone to talk to, I'm here."

"You don't have to," Kyle responded, starting at the grass.

"Kyle," Scully said a little more loudly, gently tugging his t-shirt to get his attention. Once he finally looked at her, she began speaking again. "I want to. You are a great kid, and I love you. That's just as unconditional as it is with your brothers, and don't forget it. I'm not going anywhere."

"Can you give me a hug?" Kyle whispered.

"Of course," she said as she drew closer to him on the bench. She wrapped her left arm around him, and rested her chin on his head. "We'll figure this out together."

"Why doesn't my Mom want me around anymore?" Kyle asked, his face buried in Scully's shoulder, much near where Will's was a few moments earlier.

"Kyle, your mom loves you," Scully said. "All moms love their children, some of them just have trouble expressing it. You know why I know she loves you, besides the fact you are a great kid? Because she made sure that you got to be with your father. She knows how much you guys love each other, and she wanted to make sure that you were in the best possible home. And I don't know why she didn't tell you that she was leaving, but I bet it had something to do with making sure that you are happy and safe. Your Dad and I aren't going to leave you. You'll leave us when you go to college, but by then you'll be sick of us."

"Okay," Kyle said, resting against Scully. They stayed at the bench for a few more minutes, until Kyle requested his cotton candy.

On their walk back to the picnic area, Kyle asked about the meeting that the adults had the evening earlier. "We'll talk about it with Charlie and Karen. We need everyone together, okay? Then you can ask questions and we'll try to answer them."

XXXXXX

Late that afternoon, Charlie and Karen arrived home. "Thanks for letting us play hooky, Mulder," Charlie said, shaking his brother-in-law's hand in greeting. "That was great."

"I think you may have double booked today," Mulder warned. "In about thirty seconds, you'll be answering to a tough crowd. Peter and Kyle also haven't forgotten Karen's promise to fill them in today."

"I figured as much on both counts," Charlie said, scratching his temple. "Were they too upset?"

"Yes, no, I don't know. Your guess is as good as mine," Mulder said, realizing his cell phone was going off. "Excuse me…Hickey, what's going on. Can you email me the file? Yeah, I'll stay on the line."

Mulder headed to his den. He followed Frohike's instructions and downloaded the encrypted file, and within seconds, he was looking at the face of a girl who strongly resembled Samantha. "We did some serious kung fu in cleaning up some surveillance footage, and enlarging a few of those photos you gave us from that album," Frohike explained. "This is the clearest picture we could come up with. We're still falling short on a legal name."

Mulder sighed, reclining back on his chair. This girl was most likely his niece, and it was very possible that she needed his protection.

"Dad?"

Mulder turned around. "I thought I closed the door," he said.

"I knocked but you didn't answer," Kyle protested. "Charlie's taking us fishing, and I wanted to see if you wanted to go."

"I'm just getting off the phone with Frohike," Mulder said, noticing the improvement in his son's demeanor since that afternoon. As much as he hated being on boats, he wanted to spend some quality time with his son even more. "I'll be down at the dock in five minutes."

"Dad?"

"What is it, Kyle?" Mulder asked, exasperated. He noticed that Kyle was pointing at the laptop screen.

"Why do you have a picture of Amelia Reichsath on your computer?"

"Do you know her?" Mulder asked. "How?"

"She used to go to my school. And I hate her."

**A/N:** I'm sorry for the lag in updates. Thanks for your kind reviews! I hope you are enjoying the story.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**A/N: So this is a pretty long chapter. I debated whether to split it into two, but decided it was easier to post as one. Hope you enjoy it! Thanks for the reviews-let me know what you think.**

Mulder hoped that his outward demeanor did not betray the sense of panic that was washing through him. He had to grip the side of the desk to steady himself, hoping that Kyle would not notice the change in his breathing. "Are you sure?" he asked slowly, keeping his voice low in an attempt to coverup his growing anxiety. "Frohike, I'm putting you on speaker."

"Yeah," Kyle shrugged. "See the scar on her forehead? She fell down the staircase at school one day and needed a lot of stitches. Everyone saw it happen."

"Why don't you like her?" Mulder asked carefully.

"Because she's super annoying," responded Kyle. "And she was really mean to Tim's little sister. They were in the same class, and Tim's mom made Charlotte invite everybody. And Amelia pushed Charlotte into her birthday cake. She told the adults that it was an accident but we saw her do it. And she was a know-it-all."

"That wasn't nice," Mulder responded.

"Remember? I pointed her out to you," Kyle said, frustrated. "That day you dragged me to the UN because you had to meet the blonde lady. And I didn't want to have to talk to her and you told me I should be nice."

"Do you remember why she was there?" pressed Mulder, hoping he was sounding casual.

"I think her Dad works there," Kyle shrugged, growing bored with the conversation. "So why do you have her photo? Is it because of work?"

"I'm just taking a look at a casefile as a favor for someone," Mulder responded, hoping that his answer to his son's question didn't sound completely lame. "It was a photo of a big crowd, and they are just trying to identify people."

"So can you stop working now?" Kyle asked hopefully.

"Give me five minutes, and I'll see you down at the dock," Mulder promised. "And close the door behind you."

As soon as Mulder was satisfied that Kyle was out of an earshot, he turned off the speakerphone function, and whispered, "Christ, Frohike."

"Mulder, you get that this changes everything," Frohike responded with a sigh. "I'll do a workup on the name, the school, even the birthday party. I heard it all. Don't worry, we don't have to go back to Kyle and ask him anymore questions."

After passing along everything he knew about the Bingham-Bakers and other families from Kyle's school, Mulder hurried to meet his family on the dock. He didn't even bother to find Scully; he knew that if he made any stops on the way to the beach, the thought of going directly to New York would be too tempting to resist.

XXXXXXXX

Mulder managed to sneak a few minutes with Scully during bath time, while everyone else watched Charlie make the rather dramatic finishing touches to the homemade pizzas he had made for dinner. As amusing as his brother-in-law's Julia Child impersonation was, it was outweighed by his need to speak with Scully.

Mulder found it difficult to get more than a few words in at a time, as he kept getting interrupted by Will's splash-splashes and Nathan's frustrated cries. Neither boy liked sitting still; while one hated bath time and the other loved it, they both made sure that their parents got wet.

"Are you sure it's her?" Scully asked, unable to hide her skepticism. As much as she wanted to see Mulder reunited with his sister, she didn't want to feed into any false hope; she had seen him get hurt too many times. She knew the depth of the misery and loathing Mulder experienced after running into a dead end; all she wanted to do was to spare him that pain and sorrow.

"I'm waiting to hear back from Frohike," Mulder said, reaching for a bath toy that Will had thrown onto the tiled floor. "But Kyle certainly seemed to think so. If this pans out, Scully, it means that Diana runs into this deep. That she knew where Samantha has been, and has purposely not told me."

"But Mulder," Scully responded, somewhat reluctant, as she rinsed the last of the shampoo out of Nathan's hair. "If what you are saying pans out, you need to be prepared."

"What do you mean?" Mulder asked, his tone sharpening as he looked into Scully's steel blue eyes, as he lifted Will out of the tub, wrapping a terrycloth towel around him.

Scully knew that her lip was quivering, betraying her anxiety over the situation. She bit down hard before she continued, bracing herself for the possibility that Mulder would take her words the wrong way. It had become a pattern over the years; whenever a case got personal, he would theorize, she would challenge him, he would overreact, she would calm him down, he would mope, and then he would awkwardly thank her for keeping him grounded. It wasn't exactly emotionally healthy behavior, but it had worked for them thus far.

"That she hasn't contacted you by choice," she finally managed to say, her voice heavy with concern. She hadn't even gotten out all of the words before she realized that she had provoked him.

"So then why would she send that postcard a few weeks ago?" Mulder immediately snapped as he finished diapering Will, reaching for his Marvin the Martian pajamas.

"I don't know," Scully said, anticipating his defensiveness, but nevertheless finding herself at a loss for words. "Mulder, I just don't want to see you get hurt—I just think that you—"

"So you don't want to see me hurt unless you're the one doing it?" Mulder snapped. "Thanks for your support."

Mulder softened when he realized that Will had slightly stiffened in his arms, reacting to the tension in the air. He lowered his voice, and reached down to take Nathan's hand. For the first time, the two-year-old stood back, not taking his father's hand immediately. "Let's go pick out a bedtime story," he said tenderly. That was enough for Nathan to break into a smile and to practically jump towards him.

Scully couldn't help but feel abandoned as she stood in the bathroom doorway, watching Mulder and the boys walk down the hall to the nursery. She looked down at the pile of wet towels on the floor, thinking to herself that at least she would be able to clean up one mess without causing another.

XXXXX

Nathan drooped heavily in his arms only seconds after beginning the Spot the Dog book he insisted that his father re-read; still, Mulder was content to hold his son for a few minutes longer. For the first time, Mulder considered the lull of the rocking chair to be soothing; he didn't think he had ever thought much about it before now. Of course, he had never spent too much time in one, apart from Kyle's infancy a dozen years earlier; but then of course, he remembered spending his late nights with the infant in a regular chair, bent over his desk, half-playing with his son, half-working. He had been so busy then—climbing the ranks of the Bureau, earning his golden boy status by traveling around the country, solving the unsolvable.

How quickly everything had changed; shortly after his marriage broke-up, he had fallen out of favor with Patterson. Then Scully had been foisted upon him, and the rest had led him directly back to a scene in which he was rocking a son to sleep while mulling his sister's disappearance. Mulder knew that he had overreacted. Once again, he had given into his tendency to ask her for her honest advice, and then rip her apart when it wasn't exactly what he wanted to hear. As much as he hoped that she hadn't taken it personally, he knew that she had taken what he had said to heart. Although he hated how he had handled the situation, he had to admit it was predictable behavior; a bad habit from which he had yet to break free.

He gently tucked Nathan into bed, and checked in on Will, covering him with the blanket he had already kicked free. He heard someone coming up the staircase, but to Mulder's relief, it was Karen, who was toting a sleepy Noah towards the room. He wasn't ready to face Scully yet; it wasn't because he didn't want to apologize—he just didn't want to face the very real possibility that his sister had purposely not sought him out of her own free will.

Mulder needed something—not even an answer, but just a lifeline. And there was only one person who would be able to help. He ducked into the master bedroom, slid his phone out of his pocket, and dialed a number he knew by heart.

XXXXX

Scully caught the tail end of her brother's impromptu cooking demonstration, secretly thankful that she hadn't had to sit through the entire act, which she had seen too many times to count. She silently bypassed the kids, and pulled the last longneck out of the fridge.

"You're not getting out of this one, sis," Charlie said, pointing the spatula he was using to cut the pizza to her nose.

Scully jumped. "I don't know what you're talking about, Charlie," she said, closing her eyes and massaging her temple. "What's the matter?"

"Rule number one. You pull the last beer out, you restock," he continued in a mock tough-guy voice.

She rolled her eyes and sat down her Stella Artois, grateful for the opportunity to get a few more seconds to herself. She made her way down to the basement, thinking about what had transpired upstairs a few minutes earlier. She stood in front of the old fridge they used for extra storage, and stared into space, trying to figure out what was nagging her.

She didn't hear the creaking of the stairs, and was startled when Karen touched her shoulder just as she was pulling a six pack out of the basement fridge. "You scared me," Scully jumped.

"I didn't mean to sneak up you like that," Karen reassured her. "Dana, are you okay? You didn't look too good up there."

"I'm just a little hungry," Scully fibbed. "Low blood sugar."

"Bullshit," responded Karen. "Did you have a fight with Mulder?"

"No," Scully answered fiercely. "We just have a difference of opinion on something, it's fine."

Karen stared her down.

"It will be fine," Scully corrected herself. "Seriously, Karen, it's not a big deal. He's just…he's hurting right now."

She made her way back up the stairs, not giving Karen a chance to get in another word.

The first thing she glimpsed when she made it back to the kitchen was Mulder eating a slice of pizza, taking a swig of her beer. She knew that it was his way of indicating that the first of the frost had thawed. She opened a second beer and set it in front of him. "Hey," he said, sitting back on his stool, craning his neck slightly towards the empty deck.

She took the hint, and grabbed one of the beers, leading them outside. Mulder slid the door shut behind him, joining her away from the windows. He noticed that she stood where no one could directly see them from inside; they had as much privacy as they could get from everyone in the kitchen.

"I know you didn't say that to hurt me," Mulder apologized, knowing that he was speaking quickly, result of the adrenaline rush that surged through him as he met the cool night air when entering the deck. "What you said…well, it could be true."

Scully chewed on her lower lip and nodded slightly. "We've been through this before," she acknowledged. "And we'll be here again."

Mulder cringed, knowing that she was absolutely correct. Her face did not betray any hints of anger; instead, he was mesmerized by her look of defiance. Usually when she was angry, her nose twitched; an involuntary reaction that he had noticed early in their partnership, one that she had always flatly denied. But the face in front of him was immobile; she wasn't even blinking.

"Go," Scully said softly, her tone much warmer than hit had been just seconds earlier. "I know that you need answers, and you're not going to really be here with us, mentally speaking, if you haven't at least tried. I know that you must have been thinking about going to New York ever since that phone call, and it's okay. Do what you need to do."

Mulder was practically hypnotized by her words, barely cognizant of the sensations emanating from his left bicep, where she had reached out and had begun to rub softly with her thumb. It was soothing; he began to register his heart rate slowing, and the tension dissipating from his neck.

"But do you want me to go?" he asked, unsure of whether he was afraid of her answer, or of the question itself.

"I want you to be here," Scully said, squeezing his arm. "But not because you feel that you have to."

"Scully?" he asked, confused.

Scully looked down at the wooden floor, and then back up at Mulder, her face resolute. "I know you, Mulder," she began slowly, building up the courage she needed to say what she needed to say. "You wouldn't be you if you weren't concerned for that girl's safety, or concerned for your sister. And its that selflessness, that determination, that stubbornness…that's what I love about you, Mulder. And if you have to check this out yourself, do it."

"But the other day—we discussed—you said—," Mulder reminded her.

"I know what we discussed," responded Scully. "But that person who was giving our kids a bath, that wasn't really you. I want to live a life—build a life—with you, Mulder, not some shadow of yourself. Do the legwork you need done, and get back home to us."

"This doesn't feel exactly right," Mulder said, thinking about the phone call that he had already placed.

"Then don't go," Scully shrugged. "It just has to be your decision. I just ask that when you are here, with us, that you are because that's the place where you want to be, not just because you feel you have to be. It's not fair to the kids…and it's not really fair to me either."

Her voice faded to practically a whisper by the time she finished. Mulder watched her make her way back to the kitchen, and he drained his beer, trying to figure out what he wanted to do. He looked at the scene inside; he had one son enjoying everyone's company in the kitchen, and two more contentedly sleeping above him. Despite the logistical nightmare of wrangling five children in a public setting, he had a fun day. Hell, he even had fun while fishing. Despite the family that he had in front of him, his mind was with the two people that were not. But he felt as though they were in arm's reach, and it was that fact that drove his decision.

He made his way inside, determined to do the right thing, the act that would clear his conscience. He wasn't even through the door when he heard Charlie call out, "So what's the deal, Mulder? Dana said that there was some damage at your Mom's house in Rhode Island?"

Mulder immediately looked up at Scully, who gave him a slight nod. Of course she would use one of his old cover stories. It was a hell of a lot easier to explain than the truth. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to run out," he said hoarsely.

"Do you know how bad the damage is?" Charlie asked, concerned.

"It must be pretty bad if you have to go the night before a holiday," Karen interrupted her husband. Mulder thought he could detect an icy undertone in her voice, which concerned him.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," Mulder promised.

"Do you want company?" Charlie asked. "I'm always up for a road trip."

"No thanks, Charlie, but I appreciate the offer," Mulder said truthfully. "But the next time I get a call like this, I'll make sure your ass shows up, even from Boston."

"Are you going to be back in time for the fireworks tomorrow?" Kyle asked.

"I sure hope so, buddy," Mulder said, flicking the brim of his Yankees hat so it fell onto the floor behind him, before doing the same to Peter and his Red Sox cap. "Be good. And you stay out of trouble, too, Sherman."

Scully handed him his keys, and he surprised both of them by bending down to give her a deep kiss. "I hope you find some answers," Scully whispered to him, cupping the right side of his face with her left palm. "The answers you want. I truly mean it."

"I know you mean it," Mulder responded tenderly. "And I'm sorry it's working out this way."

Scully just nodded in response, not wanting to draw any more attention to them, aware that her sister-in-law already suspected that something was off. "Call me."

Mulder said his final goodbyes, and slipped into the garage, hoping that his trip would bring them all peace.

XXXX

"You know what Danes? I think we need to call Mom now," Charlie chirped, pouring himself a few fingers of whiskey. After the kids were sent to bed, he had switched from beer to his drink of choice.

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Scully told her younger brother, as he slid the glass across the kitchen table. She barely caught it before it went sailing off the table. Luckily, nothing had spilled.

"Neither one of us is going to do it sober," Charlie reasoned, and Scully had a hard time arguing his point. "And the time difference will work in our favor. It's 7 in San Diego, so they must have finished dinner. And we can say it's getting late over here."

Even when half-drunk, Charlie knew that the way to win her over would be to present a logical argument. "Let's do this in the den," she suggested, not wanting to risk any of the kids overhearing the conversation. "Or should we wait for Karen?"

"She'll never get out of that bathtub," Charlie said. "Plus she'll be too bossy. I think that this is something us siblings need to do on our own. But remember, Mom can get mean when she's stressed out."

Scully rummaged through the desk drawer for the scrap of paper where she had jotted down Bill and Tara's telephone number. "Thanks for the reminder," Scully dryly responded.

"You mean they didn't make it to speed dial status?" joked Charlie.

"We're just lucky that I didn't throw this out completely," Scully told him as she punched in the numbers, turning on the speakerphone function. After a few rings, someone picked up.

"Mom?" It's Charlie," her brother said, a little too loudly.

"Charlie? It's great to hear from you!" Margaret Scully answered. Scully was trying to figure out how her mother sounded—it wasn't warm, but polite, pleasant; nice while remaining detached. She swallowed as she contemplated whether that was the assessment that her colleagues had made about her when conferring to her the Ice Queen moniker.

"I'm here with Dana," Charlie continued, dropping his voice slightly at his sister's insistence.

"Dana? How is your trip?"

"It's great, Mom. We've been having a wonderful time," Scully answered. Charlie knew that she hadn't told her mother about Nathan and Will; however, her brother, given his slightly inebriated state, might be of the mind that to get a little information about what was going on with their brother, would insist that they give a little information as a means to loosen up their mother. She chided herself for not working out that little detail before agreeing to the phone call.

"So what's new?" Charlie asked, prompting a long rambling discourse about how wonderful baby Matthew was, and how doting Tara was over her son, then a long winded story about how she joined a quilting circle and garden club.

"I'm glad you're making friends out there," Scully answered lamely, not knowing what else to say.

"Didn't you tell me that Bill was coming back on shore leave soon?" Charlie asked, sipping his whiskey.

"Um," Margaret stammered. Scully could practically hear the indecision in her voice. "He is supposed to, but nothing has been scheduled. I don't think he wants to bring up Tara's hopes in case it doesn't work out. You know how it is."

"No, I don't," Charlie muttered under his breath, batting away his sister's look of annoyance.

"Dana, do you have any friends at the Department of Justice?" Margaret asked.

Scully arched an eyebrow. "Technically speaking, I work for the DOJ. Do you know the specific office? "

Charlie snickered.

"Oh, I don't remember, and Tara is feeding the baby upstairs," Margaret answered. "They have a good friend who just started working there, and I just blanked on the name. Wait, here it is, um, do you know a Thomas Cooke?"

"No I don't," Scully said, writing down the name, hoping she sounded casual. "At least I don't think so."

"Well he's, uh, an old friend of Tara and Bill, and I was just curious," Margaret finished.

"That was kind of smooth," Charlie whispered to his older sister.

"Sorry," Scully responded, not knowing what else to say. It was clear that her mother was going to be tightlipped about her brother's legal troubles.

"Mom, Dana has some exciting news," Charlie called out.

"You do?" Margaret asked hopefully. "Is it about you and Fox?"

Scully sighed, wishing that she had never let her brother talk her into doing this. "No," Charlie answered on his sister's behalf. "But she and Mulder have two beautiful little boys."

Scully heard her mother gasp over the phone. "Dana?"

"Mom, remember when we talked after Emily died? And I explained that there might be another child out there?" Scully asked without falter, suddenly realizing that she had been rehearsing what she would say in her head for weeks.

"Oh Dana," Margaret replied sullenly, her voice downcast. "Not this again."

"Mom?" Scully asked, hurt by her mother's tone of voice. "This is good news. They are healthy and they are sweet, and I know this all sounds strange, but you have to trust me. They're great kids."

"No," Margaret said. "Dana, I'm tired of seeing you get hurt. I don't understand why you insist on getting yourself into these situations. It's as though you want to be as vulnerable as possible. I'm glad that they are healthy, and I'm sure that Fox is a wonderful father. But I can't watch you do this anymore. I've sat in hospital rooms for days on end; I've waited for phone calls for months, just to receive word as to whether or not you were alive. And just when you come back alive and well and healthy, you go out again and put me in this same position. I know it sounds harsh, but I just can't do this anymore."

"Mom," Charlie warned sharply. "You don't understand."

"So you don't want to be a part of your grandsons' lives?" Scully asked, trying to keep her temper in check. "You don't even want to know their names?"

"I have to be a part of this grandson's life," Margaret continued unapologetically. "Matthew needs me the most."

"And your other grandchildren don't?" Scully shot back.

"You made your choice, Dana," Margaret shared. "Maybe things will be different in the future, but for right now, I can't do this. I'm too emotionally tapped. Both you and Charlie have a tendency to close yourselves off, and I can't…you don't need me as much as Matthew does."

Scully closed her eyes, absolutely stunned by what her mother had just said, despite the fact that nothing about her speech had truly surprised her. She knew that her decisions had caused her mother much pain and sorrow, and she was more than certain that Margaret blamed her for Melissa's death. She also knew, on some level, that Margaret was referring to Bill's current legal issues. Still, something inside of her broke upon realizing how much distance her mother hand put between them with even just her words.

She didn't realize that Charlie had ended the call until he pulled her over to the couch and sat down beside her. "Dana," Charlie said, sounding more sober than he had a few minutes earlier. "Mom's overcompensating. She's trying to push you away so you don't bother to ask any questions. She's just trying to hide Bill's legal issues from us. We know this is her way of dealing with things."

"You sound mighty certain," Scully said evenly, looking calm and controlled, her face dry.

"It's because I"m always right," Charlie joked back, his tone light. "Now that we got the ball rolling, I'll put $50 that she'll be calling us in two days, asking us for our help and support."

"Just fifty?" scoffed Scully mockingly.

"If you want to make it higher, I'm all for it," Charlie responded, relieved that he saw his sister smiling. "We'll drink on it."

XXXXX

Speeding towards the small airport on the Vineyard paid off; Mulder was able to get on the next shuttle to JFK. He usually hated small airplanes, but he didn't have the time to catch a ferry in order to drive to either Boston or Hartford. As soon as he landed, he placed his third phone call of the day to Marita Covarrubias, using their prearranged code to finalize plans for a meeting.

As he headed to the cab stand outside the terminal, his phone buzzed, and he answered without looking at the display, figuring that it was Frohike calling him back. "What did you find?" Mulder asked, ducking groups of tourists with oversized suitcases.

"Mulder?"

"Charlie?" Mulder guessed.

"Yeah," Charlie responded. "I might sound a little drunk. But you need to come home. Dana doesn't know I'm calling."

"What happened?" Mulder asked, frozen in place.

"We called Mom," Charlie explained. "And she was brutal."

"What did she say?"

"She told Dana that she doesn't want anything to do with your kids," Charlie said. "And Dana's upset. Like the kind of upset when she has barely said two words and is just staring into space."

Mulder immediately started to backtrack to the airline counter. "I'm on my way back."

"But Mulder," Charlie rushed. "She doesn't know I called. She'll go ballistic if she even suspected—."

"I won't tell her," Mulder promised him, looking up at the flight board, noting that the last flight to the Vineyard left in half an hour. "I'm going to turn back now, and should be there in an hour and a half."

He hung up and made his way back to the Cape Air counter, hoping that there was still a seat on the next flight.

XXXXXXX

"Why didn't you call him yourself?" Charlie whined to his wife once he got off the telephone with Mulder.

"Because coming from me, he would think I'm overreacting," Karen hissed.

"Because you are overreacting," Charlie shot back. Whatever rest and relaxation he and Karen experienced earlier that day seemed to have taken place a lifetime ago. When Karen had returned downstairs from her long soak in the tub, and learned that her husband had called his mother, she was furious; she couldn't recall a single phone call to her mother-in-law that had resulted in anything less than a drinking binge, a fist through the wall, or some other type of property destruction.

"You're an idiot sometimes, Charlie," Karen protested, hating that she always had to feel like a shrew when she had to make her husband look at the reality of the situation. "Remember when we Dana came up to visit us after her diagnosis? And it crossed our minds that it might be the last time we would sit around the kitchen table and drink beers? That's what she looks like right now. And if you can't get through to her, Mulder's her best shot."

"We can't meddle, Karen," Charlie pointed out.

"When did he say he would get here?"

"Hour and a half," Charlie answered.

Karen looked at the clock suspiciously; she couldn't quite work out the math, but that timing didn't sound right to her. She was too tired to think about it. She put on a pot of coffee—there needed to be at least one functioning and alert adult in the house, although she knew Dana would snap out of whatever fog she was in if one of the kids became sick or injured. Plus, Charlie needed to sober up—the last thing she needed was to deal with him when he was recovering from a hangover.

True to his word, Mulder pulled into the drive way about 90 minutes after he spoke with Charlie. Karen's suspicions weren't allayed, but she was grateful to see him. Scully had barely moved since Charlie's phone call, and had refused Karen's offer of coffee.

"Thanks for turning around like that," Charlie said to his brother-in-law in greeting, pulling him into the den so Scully wouldn't overhear. "We just—I've only seen her like this once, and it took a bit for her to snap out of it. I wasn't getting anywhere."

"What exactly did your mother say?" Mulder asked, his hazel eyes wide with concern.

"Dana explained that you had two little boys, and I saw her just light up when she said it, and Mom shut her down, said that she was tired of watching her get hurt, and that she couldn't do it anymore," explained Charlie. "It's just the way Mom is when she's knee-deep in a Bill mess. We've all gotten similar speeches, but this one hit Dana hard. Especially when Mom said she didn't even want to know the kids' names."

Mulder flinched.

"Did you discuss what's going on with Bill?" Mulder was almost afraid to ask the question.

Charlie shook his head. "Mom asked Dana if she knew a guy named Thomas Cooke at the Department of Justice, and Dana said no," he said. "So she did drop that hint."

"We'll look into it," Mulder said. "Do you think your mother will contact you if something happens with your brother's case?"

"Of course," Charlie said. "She needs to be at the center of the drama. I'm going to have to up to bed. Karen's furious that I called my mother to begin with, not to mention the fact that we ran out of whiskey by the time she joined us. Just watch out for Dana, okay?"

"I'm glad you called me," Mulder reassured him.

"Is everything okay with the house? Did you even get there?" Charlie asked suddenly, turning around as he was about to exit the room.

"I got someone to deal with it," Mulder said casually as he made his way back to Scully. "Don't worry about it."

He had barely reentered the kitchen when he realized that Karen was standing a few feet away, arms crossed and her brown eyes filled with fury. "What's wrong?" Mulder asked.

"You and I need to talk" Karen blurted out. "I don't know what the hell you and Dana were arguing over earlier today. She wouldn't tell me. And I sure as hell don't buy the fact that you had to personally assess damage in a house you never go to in the middle of the night."

"I had to go, and Scully said I should go," Mulder replied firmly. "Beyond that, her decisions aren't anyone's to question."

"That's fair," Karen admitted. "But I want to shine a little light in your direction, Mulder. Welcome to your first Scully family meltdown. Note that this probably should be filed under conversations you should be having with your significant other."

"You've got my attention," Mulder said, trying to figure out whether Karen was angry with him, or was just taking out her anger about her mother-in-law on him.

Karen opened her mouth to continue his diatribe, but didn't speak immediately. "I like you, Mulder, I think that you and Dana are great together. I've never seen her more happy. But I want you to clue you in on one thing. Both Dana and Charlie have an overwhelming fear of rejection, brought on by mommie dearest. So it might help if you don't do things that would feed into that, like randomly leave in the middle of dinner. But I'm not the psychologist in the room. That's all I have to say about the matter."

Mulder stared at Karen, stunned. "I never thought of it that way," he mustered, shellshocked. His mind began to race, piecing together snippets of scenes from memories of going off chasing leads without backup, and the hell Scully would give him afterwards.

"This isn't the first time, that Margaret has said something like this, Mulder," Karen said, a tinge of sadness in her voice. "Dana is made of tough stuff, don't get me wrong. But sometimes you have to consider the reason why."

Karen began to climb the staircase, but turned around. "Oh, and Mulder? I was the one who made Charlie call you. Maybe it wasn't my place, but I felt I had to do something."

"I'm glad you did," Mulder answered, hoping that Karen could tell he was being sincere.

"And we never had this conversation," Karen finished, leaving Mulder alone in the kitchen.

Mulder could barely make out Scully's silhouette, as she sat on the porch swing. He slowly made his way to her, and she practically jumped when he tenderly touched her shoulder. "How are you back so quickly?" she asked, dazed, trying hard not to look at him.

"Because I want to be here," Mulder responded, tempted to lie and say that he never left the island, but held back from doing so, knowing that she would eventually figure out why he had returned.

"Scully, let me look at you," Mulder insisted, gently turning her sideways so he could take a better glimpse of her.

Just as he feared, her face was stained with tear marks. "Earlier today," she sniffled. "I had a long talk with Kyle. And he asked me why his mother didn't want him around anymore. And I explained to him that all mothers love their kids, and I knew that Diana loved him because she made sure that he would be in your custody."

"That's the perfect answer," Mulder agreed, touched, but not surprised by Scully's innate sensitivity. He had been wondering what had been said that afternoon, but didn't pry, not wanting to disrupt the sensitive relationship between stepmother and stepson.

"Mulder, my mother doesn't want me in her life," Scully slowly explained, the tension and emotion riding high in her voice.

"She's the one missing out, Scully," Mulder said, tugging her closer to him, so her head fell in the crook of his neck and the sobs pulsed through her.

"Am I too much like her, Mulder?" Scully asked after a few moments, wanting an honest answer. "When I push you away, am I that cruel?"

"No," Mulder answered immediately. "You are not cruel. When you try to push me away, it's a defense mechanism. Learned behavior. There's a difference."

They sat in silence, staring out into the yard. Mulder tried to think of whether he would have come back home on his own; how long he would have spent trying to get answers before returning. He would like to have thought that he would have flown back directly after his meeting with Marita. But when was he ever satisfied after one of their conversations? Would he have gone on another wild goose chase? Or would he have passed on the information to others, who would have been able to do the same legwork as him?

Scully felt the buzz of Mulder's cellphone in his pocket. "Your phone," she murmured, moving aside so he could reach for it.

"Ignore it," Mulder pleaded.

"Mulder, I know there is no way you could have met your contact in the amount of time you were gone," Scully said, cutting to the chase.

"It's all about balance, Scully," began Mulder. "I spent enough time today getting distracted. I don't like how I acted earlier tonight with the boys. You were right to call me out on that behavior. But right now, I'm where I want to be."

Scully moved to speak, but was silenced by a kiss. With Mulder's assistance, she moved from her position on his side, and straddled him, his hands cupping her bottom, pushing her towards him. After a few minutes, he managed to stand up, her legs wrapping around his hips. He had to set her down in order to get back in the house. "We just need to lock up," he said, nipping her neck, making sure to hit the sensitive spot between her neck and shoulder, the one that always made her gasp. They slid over to the door connecting the kitchen and garage together, as Mulder fumbled through his pockets, tossing his cell phone, along with a few quarters, onto the kitchen table, finally remembering that his key hung on the hook beside them.

It wasn't until breakfast the next morning, in the afterglow of a night of intense and loving sex, that he saw the four missed calls and three voicemails. He was debating whether or not to even listen to the messages, when heard the landline ring.

"I'll get it," Charlie answered, reaching over to pick up the cordless phone, which he dropped on his lap after a second.

"Don't government people usually get a federal holiday off?" he asked his brother-in-law.

"For the most part, why?" Mulder asked, cutting up a waffle for Nathan.

"Because Thomas Cooke is on the phone, and he wants to talk to Dana," Charlie replied.

"Charlie?" Karen wandered into the kitchen, dazed. "I just checked the home messages, and there's one from Thomas Cooke. Isn't that the guy you said Margaret talked about yesterday?"

Charlie held up the cordless phone, waving it in the air. "Fuck," he said.

"Fuck!" Will repeated from his high chair, three of his fingers in his mouth.

"That's right, buddy," Mulder said softly. "That's completely right."


	18. Chapter Seventeen

**A/N: I'm so sorry for the delay between chapters! I promise that I'll update with the next chapter more quickly. Hope you enjoy.**

Upon realizing that the Department of Justice was trying to contact both him and his sister, Charlie did the first thing that came to mind: he hung up the phone. Within thirty seconds, the phone began to re-ring, and Charlie once again disconnected the call. "Do you have a better idea?" he deadpanned to his brother-in-law.

"Disconnect that if you aren't going to answer it," Mulder instructed, pointing to the phone base on the counter, turning his attention to Will, who still reciting "fuck" as he banged his small fist on the high chair tray.

"Don't say that anymore, bud," he continued. "Let's not upset Mommy before she's had her morning coffee. That would be bad for both of us. Whadya think, Willster?"

Will looked at his father with big hazel eyes and smiled. "No," he said, grinning, swiping some maple syrup from his tray and smearing it over his mouth. Mulder snuck a peek, and just as he thought, the majority of the waffle was still sitting there; the maple syrup however, was mostly on Will's face.

"No is good. You can say no," Mulder sighed. "Don't you want to eat anything that isn't pure sugar?"

"Fuck," repeated Will, while giving a sticky smile.

"No," Mulder scolded, trying to maintain a stern composure. He could feel the sweat pooling around his forehead, and he instantly felt he was having an out-of-body experience, not expecting to find himself, wagging his finger, dealing with a stubborn toddler. "Will, you can't say that."

"I want!" Nathan protested from his seat, scrambling up in an effort to reach the maple syrup that Mulder had purposely left just out of his reach.

"Fuck," muttered Mulder helplessly, his reflexes not quite quick enough to snatch the bottle away from Nathan's grasp before the toddler knocked it over. He could hear Charlie snickering from across the table, no doubt relieved that his own progeny was more interested in playing with his food instead of making a sticky mess.

"You two are idiots," Karen bluntly stated from the kitchen sink, wetting down paper towels before tossing them to her husband for clean-up duty. "One, disconnecting the phone down here doesn't mean the other two extensions won't ring. You're going to have to talk to the guy eventually. Two, maybe if you stop swearing, your sons will too, and three, the fact that you ever thought maple syrup would be a good idea astounds me."

Upstairs, Kyle slowly woke up to a distant buzzing sound. He groggily got out of bed, wondering why nobody was answering the phone, thinking that everyone must be outside. How late had he slept? Would they really go down to the beach without waking him up? Would his dad be back before the fireworks? He padded to the hallway, noticing that the door to the master bedroom was wide open.

"Is anyone around?" he called out towards the closed bathroom door, not sure if he was loud enough to hear over the sound of the running water. He yawned as he reached for the phone on the desk.

"Dana Scully, please," the voice on the other end requested.

"Who is this?" Kyle asked.

"Thomas Cooke from the Department of Justice," the caller droned impatiently. "And please don't hang up the phone."

"I wasn't going to, I just need to find her," Kyle explained in a huff, muffling the phone with his palm. "Dana?" he called out loudly. "There's someone on the phone."

A few seconds later, Scully emerged from the bathroom, toweling off her wet hair. "It's some guy named Thomas Cooke," Kyle shrugged, handing her the handset. He felt incredibly awkward; it was the first time he had looked at her directly since he had cried the day before at the fair. He was embarrassed that he had done that in public; he was almost twelve, and shouldn't be acting like such a baby.

He could see a trace of concern cross his stepmother's face, as she looked at the phone, and he knew that something was wrong. He pushed over some laundry and sat on the small sofa in the corner of the room, but Dana motioned him to leave. He audibly groaned, and shuffled out of the room. He knew from previous experience that he wouldn't hear anything if he stood outside the door to listen; frustrated, he made his way downstairs.

Judging by the noise emanating from the kitchen, it was clear that the ability to hear a ringing phone would be a near impossible feat. He was halfway down the stairs when he realized that Karen was giving some sort of lecture. His stomach rumbled, and he didn't feel like returning back to his room. Just as he sat down on the landing, Peter came flying up the stairs. "Dad made waffles and your dad taught your brothers how to swear," he breathlessly reported. "Mom's yelling so I needed to get out of there."

"My dad came back?" Kyle asked, moving over so Peter could sit next to him.

His cousin nodded enthusiastically as he adjusted his glasses. "Yup," the seven-year-old confirmed. "Something weird is going on. This guy keeps calling and my Dad hung up on him, like, three times."

"Dana's talking on the phone now," Kyle said. "You know, since my dad's back, they don't have any excuses not to tell us what's going on."

The boys sat in companionable silence on the landing, waiting for Karen to wind down. "I think its safe," Peter mumbled after a few moment, and they bounded down the stairs.

"When did you come back?" Kyle asked his father as he sat down next to Charlie, taking the seat Noah had abandoned in favor of playing with some trucks under the table.

"Last night," Mulder said, obviously distracted. Will had maple syrup all over himself and his high chair, and Nathan was whining.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Kyle asked, annoyed.

"You were asleep, bud," explained Mulder, barely looking at his oldest son, his attention divided between the two children sitting on either side of him.

"But you always wake me up when you come back," Kyle protested. He wasn't sure why he was so annoyed, but he couldn't help feeling so mad. He was sick of knowing that there was something bad going on, and that no one would tell him anything. Before this summer, whenever there was something important happening, his father would always make a point of explaining what was going on, even if it was something wrong.

Now, he was met with complete silence. His father wasn't even looking at him, preoccupied with filling Will's sippee cup with more juice.

Kyle threw his father a dirty look, and reached over the table to grab half of a waffle from Nathan's plate. "NO!" Nathan screamed, his eyes immediately filling with tears. "Mine!"

"Knock it off," Kyle heard his father say as he sat back on his chair, rolling his eyes.

"I said, knock it off," sternly repeated Mulder.

"What, me?" squealed Kyle in surprise; why was he getting yelled at when Nathan was the one whining? "What did I do?"

"There's a plate of food on the counter," Mulder tiredly argued. "Why did you have to take his? He's a baby."

"He's a brat," Kyle shot back, standing up. "He's a spoiled brat. You know he isn't going to eat it."

"He's two," Mulder pointed out. "If you don't want him to act like a brat, don't act bratty yourself."

"I hate everybody," Kyle pronounced, and stomped outside, making sure not to close the sliding door behind him, knowing that it would annoy his father.

"Fuck," Mulder whispered under his breath as Kyle left, immediately starting a chain reaction where Will was concerned.

"He's just mad that you guys aren't telling us what's going on, even though you said you would, and Aunt Dana's on the phone," Peter explained matter-of-factly, his voice in competition with that of Will, who was still repeating what his father had just said.

"Peter, can you find your Mom to help out?" Charlie instructed his oldest son, as he got up to follow his new nephew, exchanging a silent nod with Mulder.

XXXXXX

Nathan's tears stopped as quickly as they came, and Mulder felt doubly fortunate in that Karen cleaned up Will while withholding any verbal judgment on his ability to manage breakfast. She shooed him and the kids out of the kitchen with only one subdued comment about how it would be easier to mop up the mess without them there.

While settling down on the living room floor, beginning to play with the boys, Mulder felt overwhelmed by the need to tri-locate. He wanted to fix things with Kyle, to be with Scully upstairs, and to find his sister. As he snapped together the wooden train tracks, Mulder cursed himself for his behavior. He was less than twelve hours into his new outlook of living in the moment, appreciating what he had in front of him, and he had already failed. Instead, he had managed to alienate his oldest child, teach the youngest how to swear (and quite proficiently so), and to ignore potentially important voicemails.

Luckily, the kids didn't seem to pick up on how distracted he felt, and it wasn't until Scully sidled up next to him, brushing his stubble with her nose as she sat, that he snapped out of his fog. "Where did Charlie go?" she asked.

"He's talking to Kyle. We kind of had a rough morning," Mulder mumbled. "They went outside."

"I can go find them," Peter offered.

"Can you get me some coffee instead?" Scully asked, and her nephew eagerly ran off to do her bidding.

"Is everything okay?" Scully murmured to Mulder once Peter had left the room.

"I should be the one asking you," Mulder argued, searching her eyes for any sign of what had transpired during her phone call with Thomas Cooke. "Is everything okay?"

"It was a professional courtesy call," Scully shared softly, the disappointment apparent in her voice.

"Press leak?" Mulder asked.

Scully nodded in response. "The case is with the grand jury," she explained. "It's further along than how Jenkins described."

"That's not completely surprising," surmised Mulder, as he continued to half-heartedly push around one of the toy trains.

"They want to talk to me and Charlie," Scully continued, reaching out to Will who was toddling towards her. "I told him that my lawyer would contact him."

"Good," Mulder said approvingly, reaching out to play with her cross necklace, which was dangling between them. "You need to be as removed from this as possible."

Will began tugging on his blue t-shirt, toddling over to his mother. "Are you okay, bullfrog?" Scully asked Will tenderly, as his face began to scrunch up. "What's wrong? Tell me what hurts."

"What did they eat for breakfast?" Scully turned to Mulder.

Before he could answer, Will threw up all over his mother. "Maple syrup on an empty stomach?" Scully asked, her eyebrows raised. "Really?"

"Fuck," Will said.

"What can I say, Scully, but I'm on a roll. Three kids, three meltdowns before ten AM. This isn't exactly what I planned for our first holiday as a family," Mulder complained, getting ready to clean up another literal—and figurative—mess.

XXXX

Kyle stomped through the backyard, heading towards the dock. He technically wasn't supposed to be by the water without an adult present, but he didn't quite care about the rules. It was only a few weeks earlier when he and his Dad would go out for a morning swim each day; now, after breakfast was finished, he was too busy with Sesame Street and trains and whatever type of chaos that his brothers created.

As soon as Kyle hit the beach, he began to kick the sand around, hoping that he would come across a rock that would make a good splash. He wasn't supposed to do that kind of thing when his brothers were around (especially where Nathan was concerned), because they would immediately try to imitate him.

"Hey kid, let's go out in the boat for a bit," called out a booming voice, making Kyle jump. He hadn't realized that anyone had followed him down there.

"Am I in trouble?" Kyle immediately asked, his eyes downcast.

"I'm sure Karen could find an infraction or two," Charlie joked, rustling Kyle's hair. "But as far as I know, you aren't on Santa's naughty list or anything."

"You aren't just saying that?" asked Kyle.

"Nope," Charlie confidently said. "Let's get out in the water before someone figures out what we're doing. Then we'll never actually get to go out."

Once they were out in the water for a bit, Charlie cut the engine and fished a soda out of the small cooler, handing one to his new nephew. "So I owe you an apology," Charlie began. "Well, to you and Peter, but since you're the oldest, so you get to hear it first."

"For what?" asked Kyle, surprised.

"We promised that we would fill you in on some stuff that have been going on, and we haven't done that yet," Charlie began.

Kyle was taken aback; usually adults over-explained when they apologized; instead, Charlie just bluntly admitted that they had made a mistake. This encouraged him to ask another question. "What's going on?"

"I don't know the whole story," Charlie shrugged. "And I think that's part of the reason we didn't say anything. Adults don't like to admit to their kids when they aren't sure of something. We don't want you kids to worry, so we don't say anything."

"That's stupid," Kyle offered.

"How so?" Charlie was intrigued.

"Because it makes us worry even more," Kyle shrugged. "When we know that you don't know, we know that there is probably something wrong. So we make a little thing into a big thing, and worry about everything."

Charlie offered a small smile. "And that borders on being ridiculous, doesn't it? When there are so many 'if's and 'whens' and 'knows' in the way…well, it would just be a hell of a lot easier if we are honest and are all on the same page."

"So will you tell me what's going on?" Kyle asked, point-blank.

Charlie looked at him in the eye, and said, "My brother is being accused of doing something really bad. It happened a long time ago. That's as much as I am sure of. We might know more after Dana's phone call."

"What did he do?" Kyle asked.

"This is the part when I'm going to get a bit hypocritical and say that I want to have that conversation with your Dad and Dana," Charlie wryly responded.

"Do you think he did it, whatever it is?" Kyle persisted.

"You're relentless," Charlie remarked. "Yes, I think he did it. But I also don't like my brother, at all."

"I know what that's like," Kyle confided.

"No, you don't kid," Charlie interrupted him, shaking his head. "You have two little brothers who are going to be pains-in-the-ass, I'm not going to lie to you. They are stubborn, and they'll want to do everything you do, and they'll be messy, and they'll be loud, and they'll break stuff. That, I am sure of, my friend."

"Was your brother like that?" Kyle asked.

Charlie shook his head, motioning Kyle to keep quiet. "My brother is older than me, by a good seven years. And he was mean, and he beat up on me, and he was nothing like those boys up in the house, you hear? You are lucky, Kyle. It might not seem like that now, and it probably won't seem like it a lot of the time, but you really hit the jackpot having your dad as as your father. He's a good guy, and he loves you very much."

Kyle stared down at the bottom of the boat, chastened. "Do you think he's mad at me?"

"No, I don't," Charlie answered honestly. "I think that he's had a rough couple of days, and he's stressed out. He needs to remember that you are an eleven-year-old kid on summer vacation, and you have to keep in mind that this is all brand new for your dad. That's the secret about parents, Kyle. We don't have the answers, kid. We just make it up as we go along."

Kyle looked out towards the shore, his glum expression fading. "Can we go back now?"

XXXXX

When Kyle and Charlie trudged up to the house, they saw Scully feeding Will some plain toast on the deck. Charlie sat down next to his sister, while Kyle went inside in search of his father. Once Scully heard the sliding door shut, she turned to her brother. "I got a call from the Department of Justice," she told him.

"I know," Charlie sighed. "I hung up on him a few times this morning."

"I'm not sure what you thought you would accomplish by doing that," Scully said, rolling her eyes. "You're going to have to talk to him eventually, and I wouldn't recommend putting it off."

"Yeah it was one of those things that just seemed like a good idea at the time," Charlie bantered.

"Like feeding Will maple syrup without having him eat solid food?" Scully shot back.

"Does his tummy hurt now?" Charlie asked, reaching out to tickle Will.

"He threw up all over me, if you must know," explained Scully as she ate her yogurt.

"Good job, buddy," Charlie told his nephew, coaxing an awkward high five out of him. "My work as an uncle here is shaping up quite nicely."

"Charlie, you're going to have to talk to the DOJ," Scully admitted, her tone becoming more serious. "The case is already before a grand jury. They called because someone violated the gag order. There was a leak to the press. He wanted to warn us and make sure we don't talk."

"What does the press know?" Charlie asked.

"Your guess is as good as mine. Our lawyer is seeing what he can find out," Scully sighed. "The DOJ guy was pretty tight lipped. His number is upstairs; he just needs to confirm that you know all of this."

"I'll get around to it," mumbled Charlie as he stretched.

"Get it over with," Scully advised her younger brother.

"I'm on vacation," Charlie yawned. "The prosecution is going to want its star witness fully rested, so they can wait."

XXXXXX

"Your phone is ringing," Peter said as he emerged from the kitchen with his uncle's cell phone in hand.

"Thanks," Mulder mumbled. "Can you take over here?"

Peter accepted the two train cars, and Nathan whimpered when he saw his father leave the room, but quickly settled in with his cousin.

"Where have you been, Muldy? I've gave up on you last night," tumbled Frohike's greeting. "You bug me to get you this stuff as quickly as possible, then you disappear."

"I flew back here last night," Mulder explained, moving into the den, settling down at his desk chair. "Feel like hacking into the US attorney's office for the district of Maryland?"

"Always," Frohike answered, intrigued. "But let's do this one case at a time. I have a lead on the girl."

"What's the story?" Mulder asked, encouraged by the excitement in his friend's voice.

"She's a Swiss citizen," Frohike explained. "The female parental unit is listed as one Sandra C. DePrens, and the father is listed as Samuel A. Reichsath."

"Sandra C. DePrens?," Mulder repeated, jotting down the name. The words danced in front of him on the pad of paper. "It's an anagram."

"Cassandra Spender, minus an 's'," agreed Frohike. "The father's name doesn't shed much light on the subject. They flew to Geneva a couple of weeks ago on a diplomatic passport. It looks like the kiddo is enrolled in some school there. From what I could dig up, Sandra works at the UN."

"Do they fly in and out of the country often?" Mulder asked.

"Every couple of years. But this is the first time the school has changed. It looks like they are in Switzerland for the near future," Frohike explained. "The building they live in is practically a fortress—actually, it really was one in the 1800s. Top level security, it's where all the muckily-mucks live."

"Did you get any pictures of the mother?"

"A few. She's a raven-haired beauty, Mulder," continued Frohike. "But in all of the photos, she's with someone else; she's never alone, and there is always another adult with the girl. You know that photo of the kids in Central Park, with you and Scully in the background? We think she's in it too, but she's turned away from the camera. We didn't notice it until after we enlarged the photos."

"Can you send me those?" Mulder asked.

"I'll do you better," Frohike promised. "I have everything backed up on a zip drive for you, I'm sending it to the dropbox on Cape Cod. It'll be there on Tuesday. So what juicy stuff have you got going with the great state of Maryland?"

Mulder got up to shut the door firmly; it was going to be a long phone call.

Kyle knew that there was no way his father could have seen him coming around the corner before he shut the door. Of course he was locked in his study, Kyle thought to himself. He slipped back upstairs before Peter could spot him. Although he had been having fun with the seven-year-old all week, he needed a break. Although Peter acted much older than his age, he was still a little kid when it came to a lot of things.

XXXXX

"My plan this morning was to once again try and convince you to go out to dinner with your better half," Karen called out to her sister-in-law as they worked on a salad. "But I don't think I can trust you to do that."

"Am I supposed to ask why, or am I supposed to know the answer already?" Scully asked, wishing that the baby monitor would indicate that her presence was needed in the nursery upstairs. They had just put the kids down for their afternoon nap. Charlie had filled her and Mulder in as to the state of affairs with Kyle, and the four adults were going to sit down with him and Peter.

"I don't think I can trust you to do it," Karen continued, slicing carrots. "I thought you had it in you, but this morning confirmed it."

"Confirmed what?" Scully asked, hoping she didn't sound too annoyed. Karen had been driving everyone crazy all day; he stress resulting from the phone calls earlier that day that was setting everyone on edge.

"That you are a complete and total exhibitionist," she answered, grabbing a head of lettuce. "And I would be at fault for putting you in a public setting at night. In that dress, I might add."

"I'm still not following," Scully blankly answered, rinsing off some tomatoes. "I'm sorry, I just didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

"Well we all know that," Karen rolled her eyes.

Scully stopped what she was doing, and gave the other woman a hard stare. "What?"

"I began my morning by picking up your clothes off the staircase and hallway," Karen continued, in what Scully hoped was a mocking accusatory tone.

Scully felt herself blush, and when she heard the sliding door shut, she realized that Karen had purposely timed her announcement so Mulder would be within hearing vicinity.

"But I think I'll take my chances and will renew my offer to babysit tomorrow night," Karen sweetly finished with a smile, wrapping up the salad to stash in the fridge until dinner. "You're welcome!"

XXXXX

Telling the boys wasn't as difficult as Scully anticipated. They asked a lot of questions, and when Charlie and Karen 'offered' to pick up ice cream with Peter, she and Mulder we able to go over some more of the details with Kyle.

"This is probably going to be on the news at some point," Mulder said. "Maybe not now, but if anybody asks you about this, just tell them that you're a kid, okay? Then let me know."

"Can I still go to basketball camp?" Kyle asked, worried.

"Of course," Scully rushed. "And we really don't think that anyone will ask you about it up here on the Vineyard."

"Can I talk to my Dad alone for a second?" Kyle quietly said.

"Of course," Scully answered, squeezing Mulder's hand as she got up. Judging by the nervous looks that Kyle had been throwing towards his father all day, she figured that the boy had something on his mind.

As soon as she stepped into the house, she heard the phone ring. Realizing that the kitchen extension was still disconnected, she made a beeline for Mulder's office, hoping that she would answer before the noise woke up the kids upstairs. "Hello?" she asked.

"It's your second husband on the line," Frohike joked.

"Haha," Scully humorlessly responded. "Mulder's busy at the moment."

"Actually, I have something I want to talk to you about," Frohike asked. "If you have a moment to go down memory lane with yours truly."

"Just remember I am licensed to carry a firearm, and we'll be fine," Scully bantered. "What's going on?"

"So I'm doing some digging, and came across a few things," he began. Scully could detect a faint change in his tone.

"Anything interesting?" Scully prompted, holding her breath.

"An old photo of your father," Frohike continued.

"From where?" Scully's voice sharply rose.

"Do you remember the login information for your Katherine fallback account?"

Scully immediately turned on the computer monitor, and frantically began typing. She saw the new message, and with some trepidation, opened the file. "It's loading," she said impatiently, tapping on her mouse.

After what seemed like hours, the black-and-white photo appeared on the screen.

"I'm sorry, Scully," Frohike gravely said. "I just thought you guys would want to know as soon as possible."

"When was this taken?" she murmured.

"February 1992," responded Frohike quietly. "I wouldn't be showing this to you unless I was sure of it."

"I know, Frohike. I better—well, I have to go," Scully rushed, fighting down waves of nausea floating through her stomach.

She sat there frozen, staring at the computer monitor, and she practically jumped when her brother entered the room. "Dana? What's wrong?"

"Can you find Mulder, please?" Scully asked. "Just go get him."

"Is that Dad?" Charlie asked, ignoring his sister's plea in favor of enlarging the picture on the screen.

"Charlie—"

"MULDER!" Charlie yelled at the top of his lungs. "See? It isn't that hard."

"For Christ's sake, Charlie!" Scully became angry, pushing her brother off the arm of her chair and heading out the door.

"Who's Dad talking to in this picture?" Charlie pestered, oblivious to the fact that his sister was so upset.

"I need to talk to Mulder first," Scully insisted.

"You know who it is," her brother argued.

"It's the man who killed Melissa, alright?" Scully yelled, just as Mulder came up behind her, his hazel eyes wide at her announcement.

The trio remained silent until the crackles broke through over the baby monitor. With that, Scully fled upstairs.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone for their reviews! I hope you like this next chapter.

XXXX

Charlie Scully quickly grew terrified of his brother-in-law. The steely look Mulder shot him as his sister fled up the stairs was enough to make him step back on its own, but it was the ferocious bark with which Mulder questioned him that weakened his knees. He fumbled, nearly knocking over the desk chair over which he had been hovering.

"What did you do to her?" Mulder sneered. Charlie could have sworn his brother-in-law's nostrils were flaring, as he had been on the losing side of enough bar fights in his past to know when someone was raring for a fight.

"I—I," Charlie stumbled, pointing awkwardly to the computer screen.

Mulder pointedly made his way across the room, Charlie skittishly getting out of his way. After taking one look of the computer screen, Mulder angrily knocked over a paperweight, smashing it to the floor. "What did she say?"

"She told me to find you," Charlie said, his voice lowering. "I—I didn't realize, I don't know what's going on."

"Who sent this to her?" seethed Mulder, still bent over the desk.

"I don't know," Charlie responded nervously. "I just walked in the room and she told me to find you."

"So why didn't you?" Mulder roared, not really caring about the answer. His heart was racing, and he felt bile creeping up his stomach.

"Who is this guy?" Charlie somehow found the stamina to stand his ground.

Mulder swallowed hard, trying to remember that Kyle or Peter could easily be overhearing their conversation, even though he had left them outside upon hearing his name called out from inside the house.

"He's the man who killed Melissa…and my father," Mulder stammered, more quietly than before.

Charlie ashened, sitting back down on his chair. "Why would he be talking to our father?"

"How the fuck should I know?" Mulder asked as he punched the wall, the sudden rush of endorphins preventing him from feeling any pain. He turned his attention to the computer, trying to figure out where Scully could have come across the photo. His heart sank as he realized that she was logged into an encrypted account set up by the Gunmen. "Goddamnit."

Mulder stormed out of the room, Although Charlie wasn't sure what had just happened, he breathed a sigh of relief that he wasn't in the direct sight line of Fox Mulder.

XXXX

After she bounded up the stairs upon hearing the cries over the baby monitor, Scully took a few seconds to regroup before she entered the nursery. In keeping with their pattern over the past few days, Nathan and Noah had pretty much trashed the room with toys, books and blankets, having learned from experience that their mischief wouldn't be interrupted if they were quiet enough upon waking up from their naps. Meanwhile, Will was pressing his tear-stained face against his crib rails, upset at being left out of the party. Scully wondered how long the older boys had been up, and whether she would have to rethink her supervision of nap time after her brother's family departed.

"You want to have some fun too, huh, bullfrog?" Scully cooed as she lifted Will out of the crib, immediately turning her attention to changing his diaper. He wouldn't even let her hold him afterwards, too eager to play with the older boys. She couldn't help but feel a sense of emptiness and even rejection; as she chided herself for her oversensitivity, she realized that Mulder was sidling up next to her.

"What did they say?" he asked into hair, sliding his hands up and down her arms.

"I don't know," she mumbled. "Frohike just said they found it."

"That's it?" Mulder asked, his outrage apparent.

"Not now," Scully responded, too quickly for Mulder's sake. He couldn't lose her, emotionally speaking. He knew that she was building up around her the proverbial walls, and he was afraid of what would result if she succeeded.

"How did this happen?" Scully nearly jumped back when she saw Mulder's bloodied knuckles.

"A wall just got in my way," Mulder mumbled, silently cursing that Scully had found a way to ignore what had just occurred and deflect their conversation. He had barely finished his sentence before she left his side, returning a few moments later, with her first aid kit and a soapy bowl of water in tow.

They sat together on the floor, the kids too occupied throwing their blocks around to pay much attention to them.

"Ouch," Mulder hissed as his wound came in contact with the concoction. His glance and accompanying puppy dog stare were met with an arched eyebrow, and Scully gripped his hand even tighter, mumbling something about infections.

He should have known better than to try to play for extra sympathy points with Scully, but Will on the other hand, was a different story. His son toddled over, trying to talk with the bulk of his left hand stuffed in his mouth. "Boo-boo?"

"That's right, buddy," Mulder told him, stretching out his good arm for Will to come closer.

Will looked thoughtfully at his father's injury for a moment, and then scampered out of the room. "Come back, Will," Scully called out lamely, knowing that any attempt to corral one of the boys was a fruitless endeavor. Since the baby gate was up, she at least didn't have to worry about anyone tumbling down the stairs.

"No!" Will insisted, teetering at the door frame, pointing haphazardly outside the door.

"Don't move," Scully instructed Mulder, dumping the first aid kit on his lap. "And don't you dare take your hand out of that water."

"And what would you do if I did?" he whined. His hand was stinging like crazy.

As Scully followed Will into the bathroom that the kids shared, she understood what had excited him so much. "Boo-boo!" he kept repeating, pointing to the medicine cabinet with his slobbering hands. "These?" she asked, stepping up on tip-toe to reach the box of Sesame Street Band-Aids. She had done her best to keep them out-of-sight, having learned her lesson after an incident that involved Nathan trying to sticker himself with them.

Will grinned as she handed him the box, instructing him to hand them to Daddy. She was barely able to keep up with him as he ran back to the nursery, practically throwing himself at his father. "Boo-boo," he repeated, giving the box to Mulder.

Mulder found himself choking up when he realized what Will had done. "Thanks, slugger," he finally said, helping Will sit down on his left knee, not caring that the first aid supplies ended up sprawling to the floor, or that the water had sloshed all over the carpet. "Want to watch your Mommy make it all better?"

As she patched up Mulder, Scully realized that she had an audience; an uncharacteristically quiet Nathan and Noah had huddled around them. They weren't so much interested in watching her handiwork as a doctor, but in jockeying Will for his perch on his father's lap. She could also see Nathan eyeing the box of Band-Aids next to her; she tested her theory by moving them, and sure enough, the boy let out a little squeal once he realized they were just out of his reach.

"Why you doing that?" Noah asked as Scully began to wrap Mulder's hand with a compression bandage.

"You know how you have to move your hand a lot? This helps keep the cut clean and lets you move your hand without it falling off," Scully patiently explained as she worked.

"Elmo!" Nathan cried out, pointing to the box of Band-Aids.

"That's for a different kind of cut, like when you fall down at the park and scrape your knee," explained Scully.

"My hand hurts too," Noah responded slyly.

"It does?" Scully smiled. "Well, let's see what we have for that."

"I guess I'm a trendsetter," Mulder quipped, dropping a kiss on the top of Nathan's head. The two-year-old was clinging to his leg, staring at his mother's handiwork with wide eyes.

A few minutes later, all three boys were sporting their own versions of Mulder's bandages, Scully having cut some clean rags, not wanting to needlessly use up all of her medical supplies; after all, she was constantly attending to everyone's cuts, bruises, and scrapes, all three boys having inherited their father's penchant for getting hurt. Nathan noticed the difference between the bandages right off the bat, and Scully hoped that he wouldn't try to purposely gash his hand for the chance to look exactly like his father. Mulder, however, got through to his son rather quickly. "You know, since you have the kind of bandage Mommy gave you, it means you can still play in the sprinkler," he said. "But if you have one like mine, you can't put it in water."

XXXXX

The boys were all about Mulder that afternoon, protesting when Scully tried to help them into their swim suits and when she tried to take their hands while going down the stairs. Mulder had thrown her an apologetic look after a particularly strong tantrum from Will, but Scully knew not to take it personally; they tended to more strongly gravitate towards their father whenever Band Aids, bedtime, antibacterial soap, and sunscreen were involved. Still, it stung, especially as her thoughts wandered to the photograph of her father with Krycek. Was her entire life a set-up? Was meeting Mulder an orchestration planned by her father? Would the boys be taken away as abruptly as they arrived? Was her life even real? Waves of nausea threatened to overtake her as she sat in the shade, watching Mulder chase around the boys she never thought that they would have.

"Can we talk?" Scully snapped out of her state of self-loathing when she realized her brother was speaking with her.

"I don't know," she mumbled, not looking at him. "I'm not ready."

"It wasn't a question, Dana," Charlie said more firmly. "You owe this to me. I'm your brother."

"And that's exactly why I don't want to have to bring you into this," Scully responded, her voice sharpening. "I'm trying to protect my little brother, can you at least give me that?"

"That's rich, Dana," scoffed Charlie. "Because when I watch your husb—part—whatever the hell he is to you, fly into a rage, accusing me of upsetting you, I deserve some answers."

At the moment Mulder turned around, he witnessed two pairs of blue eyes fiercely locked in a staring contest, their faces mournful. "I'm not doing this," he heard Scully say before walking towards the house.

"Fuck," Charlie swore, knotting his hands behind his head, kicking the chair that his sister had abandoned.

"I'll talk to her," Mulder promised, walking towards his brother-in-law but his eyes trained on the kids, who were still running around silly. "It's not easy for her."

Charlie snorted. "Apparently," he scoffed, staring down at the ground.

"I should apologize for how I acted," Mulder stammered. "I lost my temper, to put it lightly."

"No, don't," Charlie shook his head. "I have to hand it to you, Mulder. If that's how you protect my sister, it gives me one less thing to worry about, which is a lot these days. I just wouldn't want to cross you on a bad day, that's for sure."

Mulder stood in silence, taken aback by Charlie's admission. "The short version is that photo you saw calls into question your father's role in Scully being assigned to work with me," explained Mulder, fumbling for something to share with Charlie; he felt that he owed it to the younger man to explain something.

"My sister should be thrilled," Charlie flatly responded. "All that guilt can disappear. Guilt about disappointing our father, guilt about Melissa's death, guilt about what she put our mother through when she was gone, guilt about her cancer. She never have any control over any of it, so all that shame, all that guilt, it was for nothing."

Something suddenly clicked in Mulder's mind. "Watch the kids?" he muttered, running into the house, calling out Scully's name.

He found her on the small porch outside their bedroom, curled up on a chair and looking out at the water. She didn't acknowledge his presence, prompting Mulder to stand over her, latching his good hand on her arm. "Listen to me," he said firmly. "Do not doubt us. Do not do that, you hear? Do not doubt us."

Scully stoically looked straight at him, practically _through _him. Mulder was alarmed by her level of disengagement. He lowered his voice, and repeated, "Do not doubt us. You and me, it's real. Scully, we are meant to be. You are the most real thing to me, you're my lifeline, my touchstone. Do not doubt my love for you. Do not doubt that you are the mother of those amazing children. We found them, Scully, like we were supposed to. They are not going anywhere. They aren't going to disappear, I'm not going to disappear, you aren't going to disappear. It doesn't matter how we met, what our parents were like, what other people intended when partnering us. We can't change the past, we can't have any control over how things have happened, but together, we can make decisions for this family. This is the real deal, Scully. You, me, the kids. We're real, and we aren't going anywhere."

He thought her eyes were softening, but it might just have been wishful thinking on his part. "Let it go," he said as he brushed her cheek with his bandaged hand, and motion that sparked Scully's explosion of tears. Mulder pulled her towards him, her face crushing against his wet chest, enveloping her into a hug, muffling her sobs.

"Why can't we be just us? Even for a few days?" Scully asked. "This darkness, Mulder, this thing with my brother, it's going to bring up so many questions concerning my father, and I don't know if I want the answers. I can deal with a trial, but I don't know whether I can cope with knowing that my father wasn't a man of integrity. And I certainly can't un-see that photo of him and Krycek."

"We don't know if that photo is doctored," Mulder reminded her, even though they both knew that Frohike would never have forwarded it on unless he was absolutely certain it was genuine.

Scully shook her head. "At least I don't know, not right now," she explained. "I don't want to be like Alice falling down the rabbit hole. This makes me question everything, Mulder, and I can't afford that. I need to be present, in this life, with our family. I can't do think I can do both."

Mulder nodded slowly. "You just need to be prepared that even if you don't want to actively investigate this, Scully, it doesn't mean that the information won't come out another way."

"And if that happens, so be it. And maybe that's the difference between us, Mulder. With this trial looming—I'm going to be learning a lot about my family that I didn't know. And I have no control over what comes out of the courtroom. And I just don't know if I want to find out the truth, at least not yet," Scully explained. "Are you disappointed?"

"Why would you think that? I could never be disappointed in you," Mulder rushed. "Scully, you're the strongest person I know. You take the time you need. And if it slaps us in the face before that time, we'll figure it out together, okay?"

"Thank you for saying we," Scully softly said, her eyes intensifying. "You know, it's so much easier to think that I was a disappointment to my parents? At least that way, I had some control over everything. But even that's been taken away."

"What really matters, Scully," Mulder interrupted her, playing with the gold cross that hung around her neck. "Is what we make of things, starting now. Us and our sons. And I know I'm repeating myself but you could never disappoint me. Even when I open up the fridge and find that bee pollen crap."

Despite herself, a smile began to creep over Scully's face.

"And do you want to know a secret?" Mulder asked. "I'll never admit it outside this room, but I get disappointed when there isn't any bee pollen in the refrigerator."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," repeated Mulder. "Because then that means you haven't been home."

XXXX

They emerged outside twenty minutes later, hand-in-hand. Karen and Charlie were toweling off the boys on the porch, the sprinkler abandoned on the lawn. Charlie gave them a curt nod, focusing his attention on wiping the mud from his son's legs. "Dad!" Kyle cried out. "Can we go to the beach?"

"I'll bring them," Charlie offered, much to the delight of the two older boys. "Dana, feel like a boat ride?"

Mulder threw Scully an encouraging nod, and she squeezed his hand in return. "Sure," she told her brother. "I'll be there in a minute."

"Only tell him what you feel comfortable saying," Mulder reminded her softly, bending down for a kiss. "Don't doubt yourself, please? Don't let him pressure you into talking if you're not ready."

"I won't," Scully whispered, raking her right hand through Mulder's hair.

As she made her way towards the beach, she heard a cry. Turning around, she saw Will with his arms up, calling out for her. She hurried towards him and picked him up as he clung to her, not caring that she was getting soaked for the second time that afternoon. "What's wrong, bullfrog?" she tenderly asked.

Will just smiled in return and leaned his head on her neck, relaxing in her arms. Scully flashed Mulder a smile as he walked towards them, smoothing down Will's damp hair. "I love you so much," Scully whispered to her son.

Mulder smiled at the tender scene. He felt slightly guilty for whispering to Will to go hug his mommy as Scully was leaving, but he wanted to make sure that she was firmly grounded before she left to speak with her brother. As soon as the baby started fidgeting, Mulder moved to pick him up from Scully's arms. He thought for a second that she was going to stop him, but instead she said softly, "I love you. I know don't say it enough."

"I know you do. I'm here for when you need me," Mulder softly responded, giving her one last kiss before she headed off to the beach.

Kyle and Peter were jumping off the dock, and Charlie was watching them from his perch on the boat. "I need to ask you something," Scully said, motioning for him to join her on the beach. She wanted to do her best to make sure that the kids wouldn't be able to overhear them.

Charlie could see that his sister was upset; even with her sunglasses on, her face was drawn and he could tell that she had been crying. "I need you to be honest," Scully continued. "But do you blame me for Melissa's death?"

"Why are you asking? Dana, of course not, a thousand times not," Charlie said, enveloping his sister into a hug. "I told you before and my answer will never change."

"I'm not ready to explain everything quite yet," Scully continued, her voice muffled from being crushed against her younger brother's shoulder. "But thing are going to get ugly, and we're going to find out stuff about Dad, and you know how Mom and Bill have been about me joining the FBI and how Melissa died. It's okay, whatever you feel, I just don't want you to think you have to stick by me."

"Sssh," Charlie soothed his sister. "I might be your little brother, but I'm a big kid now, I can handle this kind of stuff. You and I, we've always been on the same team. And that's not going to change."

XXXX

Scully selectively, but patiently, answered Charlie's questions while Kyle and Peter jumped off the boat, practicing their cannonballs. She wasn't sure whether responding to only some of Charlie's queries was more frustrating for him than if she had answered none at all, but she was trying her hardest to respect his wishes while also keeping the conversation within her comfort zone. She kept her sunglasses on, not wanting to tip off either her stepson or nephew that something wasn't right; it was really just an empty gesture—both of those kids were smart enough to know that something else was going wrong.

Meanwhile, Mulder tried his best to keep it together at the house. He had spent the bulk of his adult life as a virtual workaholic, but parenting toddlers while on solo duty required the ability to multitask, which he did reluctantly as he silently fumed at Frohike for sending Scully the photo with such little context. How the hell had the Gunmen found that picture within hours, when it had taken them weeks to authenticate just a handful of the items from the boys' photo album? "Shit," he muttered as the pieces suddenly flew together. He turned on PBS for the kids, and dialed the Gunmen's number, keeping his voice low.

"How long have you known?" Mulder barked, bypassing his usual greeting. "Don't fuck with me, Frohike. I'm not an idiot."

"Since her diagnosis," Frohike answered after a beat. "But it was immaterial."

"Immaterial?" yelled Mulder. "You have no right to decide on whether something is immaterial. It's my decision, not yours to make."

"Don't be such a fucking hypocrite, Muldy," Frohike replied in an uncharacteristically blunt manner. "It's fine when you want to hide something for everyone's protection, but it's not all right if someone else does it?"

Mulder drew a deep intake of breath. Frohike continued, "It was immaterial because it wasn't going to change anything, it was just going to upset everyone during a time in which everyone had to get their shit together to make it to the next day. Now, things are different and it's, well, it's relevant now."

"Fuck you," Mulder hissed, ending the call, throwing the phone on his desk.

XXXX

"Do you think they'll even make it to the fireworks?" Mulder asked Scully as they helped the boys into their pajamas. Dinner had been a subdued affair, with Kyle and Peter taking charge of the conversation, too excited about the fireworks to take much notice of how withdrawn their parents were. Or, Scully mused, they were just trying to be tactful.

"Probably not, but I think they'll like it if they do last until then," Scully replied, holding up two different sets of pajamas for Nathan to choose from. Once again, Thomas the Tank Engine was the winner; she made a mental note to find a set in a larger size. Meanwhile, Mulder was having trouble getting Will to sit still long enough to get him into his own set of dinosaur print PJs. With children, stuffed animals, and blankets in tow, they made their way to join the rest of the family on the deck to watch the fireworks display.

The boys were tired, and cuddled with their parents once they arranged themselves on some blankets that Peter and Kyle had set up. With Will on her lap and Nathan melded to his father, both of them burrowing into their blankets, Scully was sure that they would fall asleep. "Are you comfortable, snuggle puppies?" she asked them, reaching over to smooth down a sleepy Nathan's hair.

Nathan jerked awake once the first booms hit. "It's okay, there's going to be something exciting happening, little monster, if you just look up at the stars," Mulder soothed him. Next to him, Scully had covered Will's ears, the toddler looking ready to cry at any second.

However, as soon as the burst of color appeared across the sky, both boys broke into smiles, Nathan clapping and Will pointing up. Even Kyle got a kick out of his younger brothers' reactions to the display. Both boys promptly fell asleep once the show ended, and when Mulder moved to get up, Scully tugged on his t-shirt in protest. "Let's enjoy this for a little longer," she whispered, coaxing a smile from Mulder. "We haven't watched the stars together in a long time."

Mulder was right, she decided, looking around her. Kyle and Peter were running around the yard playing flashlight tag; her brother and sister-in-law were huddled together a few feet away; the boys were safe and snuggled between her and Mulder. They were a real family, and her past could not take that away from her.

XXXX

"That doesn't sound like Frohike at all," Scully said in response to learning about Mulder's conversation with him. "He's had this information for two years?"

Mulder hesitated before responding; he had expected Scully to be more angry, or least indignant. "That's what he said," he confirmed.

Scully continued to brush her teeth, reflecting on this piece of news. "Something doesn't add up, but you already figured that out," she said.

"Do you think he's lying?" challenged Mulder, picking up some laundry that had fallen on the bedroom floor, trying to determine whether it was clean.

"No, I'm just confused about his motives," Scully clarified, pointing to a pile of socks. "Dirty is over there."

"I should talk to Byers and Langly," Mulder sighed, throwing some more items into the hamper. "But I don't know what to say. They've done so much for us this summer, I don't want to sound like a spoiled, ungrateful child."

"It's a fair question, Mulder," Scully pointed out, wandering back into the bathroom, returning a few seconds later to a sheepish Mulder sitting on their bed, holding a gift wrapped item.

"I—I wasn't sure whether to give this to you now," Mulder hesitated. "It was going to be a housewarming present for you when we got back to DC, but I just thought you might want it now."

"You didn't have to do this," Scully grinned, obviously touched by the gesture. She sat down next to him, carefully unwrapping the present.

"I wanted to," Mulder responded. "But, well, I want you to know that there was no pressure, if you aren't ready for this, if you hate it, my feelings won't be hurt."

"What is it?" Scully asked, confused by Mulder's sudden reluctance in the gift. After scraping away the wrapping paper, she had to open a box, which stubbornly refused to give. She finally was able to rip open the side, finding a generous layer of bubble wrap.

"Curiouser and curiouser," she whispered with a smile, impatiently unravelling the plastic.

"Picture frame?" she guessed.

"I noticed you've been taking a lot of photos, and they are quite good, I may add," Mulder began. "And I had this idea."

As she opened the frame, Scully hand quickly clasped her mouth, and she swallowed hard. There were four interlocking frames, each with a photo of the children as toddlers. Scully noticed the picture of Kyle as a copy of a framed photo in the den; she had taken the photo of Nathan grinning ear-to-ear on a swing in the park the first weekend the boys were on the Vineyard. She had also taken the photo of Will on the boat; he had actually been sitting on Mulder's lap, but the picture was so expertly cropped that no one could tell. But it was the second photo on the chain that made her heart stop for a minute.

Emily. It was one of the few photos Scully had of her; it was taken over that Christmas a year-and-a-half earlier. She wracked her brain, trying to think of whether it was Mulder who had taken the photo, or if it was one of the many social workers who she had met with during that time. Her cheeks were cherubic, her smile so innocent, her eyes wet and hopeful.

"If it's too much, just let me know, we don't have to do anything with it," Mulder nervously chattered as he made his way to the center of the bed, making Scully realize that she hadn't said anything. As she tried to compose herself, she began to furiously shake her head.

"It's perfect," Scully finally managed to say. "How did you do this?"

"Thanks to your organizational skills and the many tabbed spreadsheet of boxes and furniture," Mulder explained. "I was easily able to get someone from Preston's office to send me that photo album. I picked out the frame myself. Well, under the close supervision of the photoshop assistant. And after our conversation this afternoon, it just became important for me to know that it's here. Even if it doesn't go up right away."

"I want it to be up," promised Scully, noting the smile that crossed Mulder's face. She realized that he had been quite concerned that she wouldn't like the gift. "This is our family."

She set aside the frame on the nightstand, and then turned around to slide onto Mulder's lap, facing him. "It's perfect," she said before leaning in for a kiss, which quickly grew hungry, distracting her from her thoughts about her past. The only thing that mattered at the moment was her, Mulder, and the boys.

XXXX

Meanwhile, downstairs, Charlie slipped into the den, hoping that his presence downstairs would be unnoticed by anyone else. If everything went according to plan, the software that he had quickly installed that afternoon on the desktop was working. Despite his sister's reluctance to talk about the photo that had been sent to her earlier that day, Charlie was determined to get to the bottom of the matter. He understood his sister's concerns to a certain extent, but he had a right to that information as well.

Charlie had written the program himself, but there were still some bugs in the coding; if it worked as anticipated, it would allow him to track the origins of the account his sister accessed earlier that day. Hopefully that would be enough information for him to create new code that would allow him to access the servers of those who originally set up the account. It was a long shot, but at least he knew he was doing something while Dana got her act together.

XXXX

When the phone began to rang, Mulder just ignored it. It wasn't until his cell began to go off at the same time that he realized that something was wrong. He reluctantly rolled aside and reached for his mobile, Scully draped over him, her arm stretched across his stomach. "What is it?" he groggily asked.

"Frohike's gone."


	20. Chapter Nineteen

**A/N: Thanks for the feedback. Happy reading!**

"Gone?" Mulder sat up. "What does that mean?"

"He's cleared out, Muldy. With at least one laptop and some hard drives," Langley reported. "No note, nothing."

"It's going to take us forever to track down what information he has with him," Byers explained. "We need to go through all of our data to see what's been copied or deleted. Whenever he is going out to meet a source, he lets us know. But we came back a couple of hours ago, and all of his stuff was gone."

"Someone's trying to access one of our servers, and we're still stonewalling them," chimed in Langley. "But it's like losing a game of Pac-Man."

"Hickey emailed Scully something earlier today," Mulder interrupted, running his hands through his hair. "Through a fallback account—the Katherine Hale one you set up."

"What did he send her?" Byers asked. It was becoming more difficult to hear him; in the background, Langley was loudly typing away and swearing.

"You mean you don't know?" Mulder questioned, completely puzzled.

"Langley and I were gone most of the day," explained Byers. "What was it?"

"That photo of Krycek and her father, taken in February 1993," Mulder said, getting out of bed, trying to find his boxers in the tangled sheets. He looked up and saw that Scully was also getting dressed.

"What?" Langley asked, confused. "I have no idea what you are talking about, Muldy. When did he say he found it?"

"A couple of years. He said you found it when Scully was sick," Mulder attempted to explain, pulling on his shorts and making his way downstairs. "He said that he was going to send me some files to the dropbox location on the Cape. That it would be there in a couple of days."

"I have no idea what you are talking about," Langley swore, furiously typing. "The asshole trying to get through to our servers is pretty good. I keep throwing up roadblocks, but nothing seems to faze him."

"Do you think it could be Hickey?" Mulder asked, making his way through the dark to the den. "I'm going online now."

"That would be the best case scenario," Byers sighed.

Mulder burst into the den, yelping when he saw a figure hunched over the desktop. His first thought was that it was Kyle, sneaking around to get online while the household was asleep, but as soon as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he recognized his brother-in-law. "I found your hacker," Mulder said into the phone. "I'll call you back."

XXXX

Mulder understood little of the conversation that occurred over the next two hours. Between the two-thirds of the Gunmen on speakerphone, and Charlie next to him, not to mention the clicks, sighs, and swears that littered the conversation, Mulder was completely lost. Luckily, Langley's annoyance that Charlie had been trying to hack into his servers grudgingly turned into an admirable respect, and within twenty minutes, their conversation truncated to a series of clipped phrases, as they worked together to rebuild the Gunmen's network.

Charlie clearly didn't enjoy being babysat by his brother-in-law, and had snapped at his sister when she tried to enter the room. Mulder took his cue to leave, and rolled his eyes when he heard the other man's request for coffee. "What's going on?" Scully asked as they entered the kitchen.

"Langley and Byers are restructuring their server network, assuming that it was compromised. They are also trying to determine what Frohike has accessed in the last few days, and what files may have been copied," Mulder attempted to explain as he rooted around a cabinet to find the Folger's.

"Here you go," Scully said, handing him the canister from a completely different shelf, and moving to fill the carafe with water. "Can they even figure all of that out?"

Mulder shrugged. "I don't know."

"So they didn't know about that photo?" Scully asked hopefully.

"No," Mulder shook his head. "But they need to patch their servers before they can even begin to try and figure that out."

Scully nodded as she poured the water into the tank, pressing the brew button. "And what was Charlie doing?"

"Touchy subject," Mulder explained as Scully laid her head on his chest. As he embraced her, he slowly rubbed the back of her arms. "But I think he was trying to look into the photo.

"I told him not to," Scully groaned. "Which means he probably did it."

"Stubborn? I wouldn't dream to think of it," teased Mulder lightly. "Do you want to try and get some sleep?"

Scully was torn between utter exhaustion and the slight exhilaration which came from delving into what was essentially a case file. The brewing coffee was a temptation onto itself, but the crick in her back reminded her that in about five hours, she would be once again chasing toddlers. "I don't want to ditch you," she confessed.

"You are not ditching me. One of us needs to get some sleep. Or at least try to," rationalized Mulder as he heard Charlie call his name. "I'll wake you up if anything happens. I promise."

"But what if—" Scully began to protest before Mulder silenced her with a kiss.

"I promise," he repeated, only breaking away when he heard Charlie once again bellow from the confines of the den.

Once Scully finally trudged upstairs, Mulder poured two mugfuls of coffee and crept into the den. Charlie mumbled his thanks before turning his attention back onto the computer screen.

"Sorry about the wait," Mulder said, settling down on the couch. "What do you need?"

"What?" Charlie asked, completely oblivious to the fact that he had requested the other man's presence. "Wait a second. This will just take a few minutes."

"Muldey, is that you?" Langley barked through the speakerphone.

"Yup," Mulder called out loudly.

"Can you find your laptop? We need to see whether Frohike hid any files there," Langley asked. "I know that he was working on it the last time you were in DC."

"Just set it up here. You have another ethernet connection?" Charlie asked.

"There should be two in this room," Mulder answered.

Finding the connection wasn't an easy task; instead of clarifying his thinking, the coffee had only muddled it even more. It even took Mulder a few moments to figure out where he had left his laptop, remembering that Kyle had borrowed it to work on his summer book report assignments a few days earlier.

Mulder crept upstairs as quietly as he could, not wanting to disturb the light sleepers. He slipped into Kyle's room, attempting to quietly rifle through the mess, but Kyle awoke as soon as Mulder tripped, bumping into his bureau with a loud bang. "What's going on?" the eleven-year-old yawned, startled out of his sleep.

"I need the laptop," explained Mulder.

"Why?"

"Does it matter? I just need it now," Mulder requested, running his hands through his hair.

"It's on the desk," Kyle reported, pointing.

"And the power cord?"

"It fell the other day," Kyle explained. "It's under the table. I think."

"Can you help me, please?" Mulder asked, his frustration mounting. "Your room is a mess."

"You don't usually care," Kyle countered, flipping on the light, causing both father and son to squint.

"I'm also not usually trying to find things in the dark at two in the morning," Mulder rebutted. "Langley needs to look at it."

"He's here?" Kyle asked excitedly.

"No, he's on the phone," Mulder began to explain, cutting himself off upon realizing that he didn't want to get into specifics regarding Frohike's whereabouts. He stuck his arm under the bed, and came up with a jumbo back of batteries. "These wouldn't be the same batteries that I saw in the kitchen a few minutes ago? The ones that we absolutely-had-to-buy-or-the-world-would-end?"

"Oops," Kyle cringed. "I guess I didn't run out."

"I never thought I would actually say this to my own son, but you need to clean this room," Mulder said, his voice filled with regret. "Or at least organize the mess so we don't keep making emergency runs to the store."

Kyle disappeared under his bed, quickly rolling back into the middle of the room. "Found it!"

"I thought you said it was underneath the desk."

"Well I tried to see if the cord would go all the way around the bed so I didn't have to sit at the desk," Kyle announced proudly. "And it worked."

"Obviously," Mulder sighed as he rubbed his eyes. "Thanks for your service, go back to bed."

"What if I stayed up to clean?" Kyle asked.

"Bed, now. I'm not dealing with a grumpy you in a few hours," Mulder instructed, his voice rising. He silently cursed himself when he realized that he had left the door open. Sure enough, he heard the pitter-patter of small feet, and within seconds, Nathan had scampered into the room.

"I wanna play," he sleepily announced, clutching Woofy.

"We're not playing, little monster," Mulder explained, kneeling down to him. "It's bed time."

"No," Nathan protested, stomping his foot.

"You can play, Nathan," Kyle mischievously told his younger brother.

"Kyle," Mulder warned his oldest son.

"Get that shirt, and put it in the hamper and you win," Kyle instructed, grinning devilishly as the two-year-old did his bidding, clapping in encouragement of his brother. "See? I'm playing a game with him _and_ my room gets clean."

"This is terrible," Mulder sighed, hoping that he was hiding the smile that threatened to creep out. "Brilliant, but terrible. It's time for bed, both of you."

"No," both boys protested.

"You know better," Mulder pointed to Kyle. "Lights out."

"No," Nathan cried, kicking as his father picked him up. He sobbed in Mulder's arms, over-exhausted and confused. "Play."

"Shh," comforted Mulder, juggling the toddler in one arm and the laptop and cord in the other. "Goodnight, Kyle."

Mulder figured that the thump he heard as the left the room was the result of Kyle throwing something at him. Nathan continued to wail as they made their way downstairs. Charlie was impatiently waiting for them, snatching the laptop and power cord out of Mulder's hands before retreating back to the den. Mulder found a sippy cup with some juice in the fridge, and sat with Nathan on the couch, trying to soothe the two-year-old.

Nathan quickly pushed away the water, and Mulder abandoned the cup on the floor, changing his position slightly so the baby could lie down on his stomach. "You wouldn't be here with us today if it weren't for Frohike, buddy," Mulder said quietly to the baby, rubbing circles on his back. Nathan's whimpers were quieting, and he cuddled close to his father. "I don't know what's going on, but you and your brothers and your mommy will be safe, I promise."

Mulder began to choke up as doubts began to creep through his mind; he focused on steadying his warbling voice. "Why don't we go down to the beach tomorrow, okay, monkey? We can play in the sand and get real dirty. And then we'll sneak some cookies in before lunch, when Mommy isn't watching. Does that sound fun? But we need to go to sleep first."

As Nathan's breathing steadied, Mulder bent down to take a look at the boy, and sure enough, his eyes were drooping. He quickly dismissed the idea of bringing him back upstairs, not wanting to reawaken him. Instead, he focused on the peaceful expression on his son's face, which was vaguely reminiscent of that of Samantha. Of the three boys, Nathan resembled his sister most strongly, with his dark, curly hair and with many of his facial expressions, especially the way in which he scrunched up his face when he laughed. Mulder had also noticed the two-year-old's penchant for stomping his left foot on the ground when he became frustrated, something that Samantha had done, much to the consternation of their parents.

Mulder wasn't sure how much he had slept, if at all, when he realized that Scully was staring down at them. "I couldn't sleep," she whispered.

"Get over here," Mulder requested, tugging her arm towards him.

"There's no way I can fit," protested Scully.

"There's always room for you," Mulder asserted, rearranging his position on the couch. Sure enough, it was a tight fit, but they made it work.

"You know, there is an empty king size bed upstairs," Scully reminded him.

"There's something about lying down on the couch with you that makes me feel less alone," Mulder confessed. "Especially on nights like tonight, when we have no control over events that affect us."

"Are you feeling lonely tonight?" Scully asked.

"No, alone and lonely are completely different," assured Mulder. "I haven't been lonely in a long time."

"Really?"

"Really," Mulder continued, snuggling into her. "I promise."

This time he really did fall asleep.

XXXXX

Charlie was nowhere to be seen that morning; he had taped messily scrawled notes to both the laptop and the desktop computers that read "Do not touch on pain of death."

"He came to bed a half hour ago," Karen explained from the kitchen, where she was pouring cereal for Noah. "He mumbled something about it being a set up, and said no one was to wake him up before noon."

Mulder made a face; he was annoyed that he had managed to sleep for so long, and wanted an update on where things stood with the Gunmen.

"Mulder? Earth to Mulder," Karen waved her arms.

"What?"

"I should be asking you that question," continued Karen. "What were you guys doing all night."

Mulder sighed; he was too drained to even begin to think of ways to deflect Karen's persistent energy away from the events of the previous evening. "Some friends of mine have computer issues, and Charlie rose to the occasion," he blandly explained, running a hand through his stubble. "Beyond that, I know nothing."

"Coward," Karen shot back as she poured some orange juice.

XXXXXX

As promised, they spent the morning at the beach, and Charlie didn't make an appearance until after lunch. He wordlessly poured himself some coffee and craned his neck towards the den, beckoning his sister and brother-in-law to follow him. Within seconds the Gunmen were on speakerphone, with the first few minutes of chatter consisting of half-formed words and numbers. Mulder and Scully looked at each other in confusion, neither of them able to follow the conversation.

Charlie uneasily coughed, and took a long gulp of coffee. "There's an encrypted message for you on your laptop," Charlie explained, a serious look darkening his face. "Considering the circumstances, I opened it."

"We think it's legit," Byers' voice somewhat muffled.

"What is it?" Mulder asked.

Charlie sighed and booted up the laptop, quickly typing a series of keystrokes before moving the display towards Mulder's direction.

_Never doubt that you are my best friend._

"That's it?" Mulder asked, his panic growing.

"It just confirms what we began to expect after a few hours of work," Charlie explained.

"Which is?" Scully prompted. She felt somewhat responsible for the predicament they were in; a part of her knew that as soon as she shut her brother down, he would use any means necessary in order to better understand what she refused to talk about.

"This was staged," Charlie answered. "Or somewhat staged."

"And this means what?" Mulder asked, bending over, settling his elbows on knees, debating whether he truly wanted to know the answer to that question. His expression fell, and Scully could see the disappointment settle on his face.

"He planned this, Mulder," Byers' tired voice scratched through the air. "But as for how long, we don't know."

"How can you be sure?" Scully asked, squeezing Mulder's knee.

Charlie began to roll his eyes, but he stopped when he saw his sister's steely gaze narrow towards him. "I can go into the entire forensic report on the issue if you really want," Byers shared. "But the bottom line is that he has been backing up all of our files on a shadow network, which Langley and Charlie finally disabled around dawn."

"It went live at the same time you opened the photo yesterday," Charlie told his sister.

"That created a domino effect," Byers explained.

"Which we didn't notice until Spiderman started playing around on that program he wrote," Langley piped up.

"Spiderman?" Scully asked.

"Your kid brother," Langley laughed. "Spider—web—red hair?"

Charlie grinned, throwing his hands up in the air. "They love me, what can I say?" He quickly sobered when he saw the pained expression on Mulder's face.

"When did Hickey jump ship?" asked Mulder.

"Once the network he created downloaded 65% of our files," Byers answered, his voice serious.

"And you are sure that the network was triggered when Scully opened the photo, not when Charlie began to fool around with the computer?" asked Mulder.

"Yes," Langley answered affirmatively. "Of that, we are definitely certain."

Mulder stared at the floor, trying to control the dry heaves that wracked his stomach. "Are my children safe?"

He was met with silence.

"Goddamnit, answer me, are my children safe?" After his outburst, Mulder rose from his perch on the couch, and quietly walked to the window.

"Answer him," Scully quietly spoke with her brother, her eyes not leaving Mulder.

"Yes, but I put a call into Preston," Byers crackled through the line. "As an extra precaution, we're putting eyes on you and the kids for the next few days. We're building a new security system for the DC house."

"Most of the files that were copied don't have anything to do with you, Muldy," Langley explained. "We're just being careful."

"But you don't have any proof," Mulder sadly said.

"We're tracking the package that he mailed you yesterday," Byers answered. "You should have it tomorrow morning. There might be more clues there."

"But how are you so sure?" Scully questioned.

"We know where he is," Charlie interrupted.

"Where?" Mulder asked, holding his breath.

"Switzerland," Byers explained.

"Why would he be there?" Scully asked, confused. Her eyes flitted between Mulder, who was staring out the window with a forlorn look, and her brother, who was sheepishly looking at the floor.

"Because that's where Samantha is," Mulder stated, turning around to walk out of the room.

XXXXX

Somehow, Mulder managed to make it to the bathroom before throwing up. He rinsed out his mouth, washed his face, and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He stood back, holding onto the edge of the sink for balance.

"Mulder?"

"Give me a second," he croaked.

Scully paced their bedroom, determined not to let panic get the best of her. She thought of everything that Frohike had done for them over the years. She knew that whatever sense of betrayal she felt was only a fraction of what Mulder was going through. She was lost in thought and nearly jumped when Mulder finally emerged.

"He wouldn't leave me that message if he wanted to hurt us," Mulder softly said.

"But what is his motivation for all of this?" Scully questioned.

"Even if we don't understand it right now, I think he's protecting us, in his own way," Mulder embraced her, setting his chin on the top of her head. "We can't keep living in fear, Scully. We just have to accept that. He's watching over Samantha. He's doing what I can't do."

Scully stood back, giving Mulder a steady look as she brushed that stubborn lock of dark hair off his face. She knew that he was in shock, that he still needed to process everything. He needed time. "Promise me that we'll talk later," she whispered. "

Mulder nodded. "At least we know the kids are safe," he agreed. "That's the important thing."

XXXXXX

They managed to distract themselves for the afternoon with the kids, and when Kyle and Peter petitioned to go back in the water, Mulder jumped at the opportunity. After horsing around with them in the water for an hour, Mulder took a seat on the dock, watching them play. Charlie's family was due to leave the next afternoon, and Kyle would be starting camp in the morning. He made a mental note to make sure that either Frank or Jimmy would be available to stake out the community center.

"Dad? We're hungry" Kyle announced as he climbed up the dock, snatching a towel.

"You're always hungry," Mulder responded.

"We're going to see if dinner's ready," Kyle corrected.

"I'll be up in a few minutes," Mulder said. "Don't wait for me."

After he watched the kids leave, he lay down on the dock, looking up at the sky. Melvin Frohike had been his closest friend for years; after had met Scully, their relationship had changed, and Mulder briefly wondered whether Frohike bared some sort of bad will, before dismissing that thought. He searched his memory to find the last time that he and Frohike had pulled an all-nighter debating conspiracies and researching UFO sightings, and could only remember that happening once since he became involved with Scully.

Mulder swallowed hard. It was Frohike who had been his go-to guy when he needed a cover story for spending time with Kyle; he would never have been able to keep his secret, however misguided, for so long. It was also Frohike who had talked sense into him, demanding that he reevaluate his priorities. He owed Frohike so much; while the troll man had offered him friendship, advice, the ability to fake travel records, not to mention the arrival of two children from thin air, what had Mulder given him in return? A box of videos that Mulder had discreetly left at the Gunmen's place shortly after he began sleeping with Scully?

He sat up, feeling choked by a sense of shame. How had he become this emotional vampire, sucking everyone else dry? He had done it to Scully more times than he liked to admit, and now he was faced with the fact that he could have—and should have—treated Frohike better. "I'm sorry, buddy," he said quietly into the night.

XXXX

Mulder grimaced at the sight of Karen Scully standing on the back porch, hands on her hips. "You have ten minutes to get changed and out the door," she announced, pointing in the direction of the laundry room. "Don't you dare go upstairs."

"What?" Mulder argued, moving his sunglasses onto his head.

"You and Dana are going out for dinner, that's final," Karen stated firmly.

"I don't think—" Mulder warily began.

"You are worse than she is," argued Karen. "I'm tired of all of these stupid excuses."

"I re-rigged the alarm system," Charlie whispered as Mulder walked into the kitchen. "Here's the new code."

Mulder accepted the slip of paper and nodded to his brother-in-law in thanks. "We'll be fine here," Charlie continued, turning down the oven burner, continuing to some ground beef. From the smell of it, he and Scully would be missing taco night.

"Seriously, man, if you don't go, Karen will make everyone's lives a living hell."

Mulder snorted in response, holding up his hands in surrender. "And how's your sister taking this?"

"She's not happy," Charlie shrugged. "She gave up after promising Karen that you'll be gone for at least an hour-and-a-half. Kids had a late nap, and she wanted to be here for bedtime."

"Any idea where we are supposed to be going?" Mulder asked.

"My MO is to know as little as possible," Charlie said with a smile, turning his attention to the oven, flipping over some meat. "But I wast old that you are going to that same place you were supposed to go a few nights ago."

A few moments later, Mulder emerged from the laundry room in dark jeans and a white button down shirt. He sat down with the kids at the kitchen table before Karen pushed him away, pointing to the food. "Don't mess this up," she instructed.

Mulder ignored her, turning his attention back to the kids, who were messily eating their dinner. He didn't realize that Scully had come down the stairs until she was practically in front of him. "Ready?" she asked, her voice not quite enthusiastic.

"Sure," he mumbled, dropping kisses on the boys's heads. Karen practically threw them out of the house, and in all of the confusion, Mulder hadn't noticed what Scully was wearing. When they emerged from the car in the restaurant parking lot, he let out a gasp.

"What?" Scully asked, tugging her hair behind her ears, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"You look beautiful," Mulder told her seriously, reaching out to grab her hand.

Scully could feel her cheeks flushing. "You don't look too bad yourself," she returned.

XXXX

"This is awkward," Scully said after they spent a few moments of silence at the table. "Do we really have nothing to talk about?"

"There's always something to talk about," quipped Mulder, as the waiter brought them two glasses of wine. "The real question is, do we have anything worth mentioning?"

They fell into conversation, flitting among topics easily. The warm banter reminded Scully of many of their past road trips, greasy spoon meals, and in ratty motel rooms. It wasn't until Mulder checked his watch as he paid the bill that they realized it was nearly eight o'clock.

"We can come back out after the kids go to sleep," he suggested. "Grab a drink somewhere."

Scully shook her head. "Why don't we do this," she answered, licking her lips quickly. "There's a bottle of wine that's been sitting in the fridge. Why don't we tuck the kids in and then head down to the water?"

He practically bolted out of his chair, tugging Scully towards him. She swore that the drive back home took half the time it usually did. They got home just as the kids were being put in their pajamas. Nathan dumped a copy of _Clifford the Big Red Dog_ in front of his mother. She sat on the floor of nursery, with Will on her lap and Mulder next to her, holding Nathan. As Scully began the story, her eyes pricked with tears. The image of little Emily Elizabeth, with her blonde bangs, pierced through the page. As she read the story, her mind wandered to an alternative universe, where Emily was sleeping across the hall, impatiently waiting for her parents—Mulder and Scully—to read a bedtime story with her. Scully didn't realize that she had stopped reading until Nathan had reached over Will to thump on the page.

"You okay?" Mulder quietly asked Scully, who nodded in response, quickly immersing herself in the book, occasionally stopping the narrative to ask the boys to point to various objects.

Scully lingered over both boys as she kissed them good night and made sure they safely had their stuffed animals tucked in with them.

Once she closed the door, she met Mulder's stare. "I'm fine," she promised.

"Of course you are," he sighed. "Do you still want to grab the wine?"

Although the mood was somewhat broken, Scully nodded. "Don't get changed," Mulder whispered in her ear as he pulled her away from their bedroom. As Scully rummaged through the refrigerator to find the wine, Mulder found a bottle opener and two glasses. They made their way back outside, giving a slight wave to Charlie, who was immersed in a baseball game in the living room.

"When I was in high school, I spent my summers in this house," Mulder explained as they made their way to the dock. Once they sat down, he uncorked the bottle. "And I think at this very moment, I'm living out a fantasy of a sixteen-year-old me."

Scully arched an eyebrow. "Care to share with the class?" she said as they clinked glasses.

"Seducing a beautiful woman right along the water, not having to worry about anyone catching us," grinned Mulder devilishly. "Not to mention a cool car of my own."

"You love it here," Scully mentioned. "The small town, the backyard. Are you sure you want us to go back to DC?"

Mulder was taken aback by her observation, stretching out to lean on his left side, Scully taking a mirrored position. "We've talked about this a bit," he stammered. "It's too suffocating. The kids need good schools, I need to maintain a presence in DC for political access, to make sure my name is out there just enough so I can continue with my work. This is great for vacation, but not full-time. But I have to admit, I've let myself think of what we could do if things were different."

"Like what?" Scully asked.

"Living in a small town in New England or the Hudson Valley. I write, maybe teach. You either work as a doctor or in a forensics lab. The kids are happy and healthy and play sports and get into mischief and we have a dog that just feeds off their energy."

"That sounds nice," Scully agreed, her head touching his shoulder.

"What about you?" Mulder moved to refill their wine glasses.

"Me?" Scully asked, leaning in a bit more. "I think of the new place in Georgetown, and the kids running around the house, and all of us watching movies together. Sometimes I think of them here, a little bit older, running around the yard."

"You know, I think of her too," Mulder said, his voice soft. "I know you have. And I'm sorry if—"

"Don't apologize, Mulder. The photos are beautiful," Scully responded, tracing her finger down Mulder's shirt, toying with one of the buttons. "They are perfect."

"Listen to me," Mulder breathed, dipping his head slightly so his stubbled jaw scraped against her chin. "I love you and I appreciate you."

XXX

While Scully wouldn't necessarily recommend sex on a wooden boat dock, she knew that she would take up Mulder on an offer of a repeat performance in a heartbeat. There was something electric about doing it outside; she wasn't sure whether it was the pheromones or the fact that they tended to try new things while highly emotional. While she knew that the underpinning of it all was their emotional connection, she sometimes grew nervous that they relied too much on comfort sex as a way to work out the stress.

"We should get up soon," Mulder whispered, his hands tickling Scully's abdomen lightly.

"I know," Scully slowly creaked. "Why haven't we done this before?"

"The baby monitor signal only reaches as far as the hammock," Mulder explained, nipping at her neck. "And we have an eleven-year-old who most likely does not stay in his room after he is sent to bed."

Scully stopped Mulder just as he was stepping off the dock onto the beach. "Wait," she said in a small voice, clasping his fist. "I know that Frohike has been a good friend to you, to us. And we'll figure it out, that's all."

"We wouldn't be here without him," Mulder agreed. "But let's not—not tonight."

XXXX

Breakfast was more chaotic than usual. Will had burst into tears when he saw Mulder leave to drop Kyle off at daycamp, and nothing would console him. Scully calmed him down to the point where he wasn't screaming, but Charlie set off his nephews cries by pretending to take away his stuffed dog. Will's forehead seemed a bit warm, and Scully was torn as to whether he wasn't feeling well, or if he had just worked himself up. As she fumbled around a kitchen drawer for a thermometer while toting Will on her hip, the doorbell rang.

"Stay there," she instructed Noah and Nathan, who were sitting at the table with some frozen waffles. She was a little unnerved about an unexpected guest, even though she doubted that someone who meant any harm would ring the front doorbell. Charlie emerged from Mulder's office, where he was banished himself after Will began to wail. He and his sister gave each other a hard look upon hearing voices coming from the front door.

Seconds later, Karen emerged with a tall, blonde-haired man in a suit. "I'm Thomas Cooke," he introduced himself, sticking out his hand.

"What are you doing here?" Charlie asked.

"I invited him," said Karen stoically. "He has some important information that you both need to hear."


	21. Chapter Twenty

**Happy reading! Let me know what you think.**

Scully began to shake, hard enough that she had to sit Will on the counter. He immediately whimpered, clutching her t-shirt. She cradled the back of his head with her left hand, as her other steadied him upright. Throughout the decade that she had known her sister-in-law, she didn't think that she had ever been as angry towards her as she felt at that moment. Judging by the look on her brother's face, Scully guessed that Charlie's feelings were not much different than her own.

"Peter?" Charlie called into the living room. "Ten bucks if you watch your brother and cousin in the living room. Just make sure they sit down when they are eating."

"But—" the seven-year-old began to protest.

"Fifteen if you don't ask any questions," Scully countered. A look of amazement crossed her nephew's face, and he quickly clamped his mouth shut, helping his father shepherd the smaller boys into the living room. A quick peek at Karen confirmed that she wasn't at all happy about the Scully siblings double-teaming her.

After watching the kids leave the room, Scully took her first hard look at Cooke. "I was clear yesterday that my attorney would be in touch about setting up a time to meet. I do not want my sons hearing anything about this," she said, trying to muster as much politeness as possible. "Please don't take this the wrong way. My reluctance has nothing to do with a sense of warped loyalty to Bill, but everything to do with the fact that I have worked extremely hard to remove him and the chaos he causes out of my life. And I'll be damned if these children have to bear witness to any of that. If you would like to discuss anything, we can go to the outside porch, or you and my brother can meet elsewhere after his lawyer arrives. But inside the confines of this house, nothing is to be mentioned of this trial. And I am waiting until my counsel is present before speaking with you about Bill, or anything else having to do with the case."

She paused for a moment as Will began to cry; a quick brush of his forehead confirmed her suspicion of a fever. "Please pour yourself some coffee. I need to attend to my sick child, and will be back in a few moments. Karen, could you please help me for a minute?"

Her heart pounded in her chest as she climbed the stairs with the baby in her arms, his wails getting louder. She was quickly losing all composure, and she shuddered to think of how he had sounded back in the kitchen.

"Dana—" Karen began, defensively,holding up her hands as they arrived on the second floor landing. "I can explain."

"No you can't," Scully seethed, readjusting Will on her hip. "How the hell did he even get in here?"

"It was me. After Mulder left, I went down and talked to the security guy, and told him that I had a courier coming to deliver something from my office," Karen explained, her eyes drawn away from her sister-in-law, looking sheepish. "I gave him the license plate number and car make."

"Goddamnit," Scully cursed, trying to keep her posturing as relaxed as possible for Will's benefit. "When did you plan this?"

"Dana," Karen's voice rose, and her gaze shifted directly to the figure in front of her. "I spoke with Cooke yesterday afternoon. I know that you are dealing with a lot of shit right now, but think of it from my perspective. I've been dealing with the Scully family skeletons-in-the-closet for ten years. Ten fucking years, Dana. Do you know how lost Charlie is after a phone call with Margaret? How it stresses him out so much that I can barely get to him? How he's lost in thought for days on end, barely paying any attention to me or the kids? Peter is starting to figure out that there is a reason why we barely talk to his grandmother. Do you know what kind of questions I've been answering, trying to protect both him and his father? I need this resolved for us, Dana. It's not just about you. It's about Charlie, and our marriage, and our sons."

"But why bring him here, when I told you I didn't want him in my home?"

"The last time I checked, Dana, this wasn't your house," Karen stormed off, blonde hair flying, clattering back down the stairs.

"Fuck," Scully whispered, cradling a screaming Will close.

XXXXX

Charlie found his sister ten minutes later, as she was giving Will a cool bath in an effort to keep his temperature down. It was the first time she had seen Will miserable while in the water; instead of splashing around with his bath toys, he was noisy wailing, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"I didn't know, Danes," Charlie sighed, sitting on the toilet. "I had no idea she did that."

"I know," Scully quietly replied. "Can you take over for a second? I need to check his ears."

"Of course," Charlie said, maneuvering around his sister to keep his nephew propped up in the tub. The little boy gave his uncle a mournful look. "Have you thought about forgiving me yet, Will? I just wanted to play with your puppy."

Will's face crumpled. "You might want to reconsider, buddy," continued Charlie. "I give awesome Christmas presents that are super fun and very noisy."

"Thanks for the tip," Scully snorted as she re-entered the bathroom, otoscope in hand. "This is going to be tricky."

Will immediately began to squirm and splash as his mother tried to look into his ears. "This one looks infected," Scully sighed, picking up her son out of the tub. "I need to find a doctor."

"Karen's driving back up to Cambridge this afternoon as planned. I've been asked to not return home until I've moved forward with this whole Department of Justice thing," Charlie explained, handing a terry cloth towel to his sister. "She knows I'm not looking forward to a deposition, so she at least wants this guy to talk to me informally."

"Please don't do that without an attorney present, Charlie. It's never a good idea," Scully explained as she lifted Will out of the tub. "The feds never have an informal conversation with a suspect or witness. It's not like how it is in the movies."

"You know and I know," Charlie nodded, lost in thought as he played with his baseball cap. He shouldn't have been surprised that his wife had delivered an ultimatum; over the years, their biggest arguments had centered on issues related to his family, and in particular, on his relationships with his mother and brother. He had thought he had solved the problem by maintaining less contact with them, but that solution had been, at best, a Band-Aid over the real problem.

He had to admit that Karen had done her best to relate to his feelings, and had shown an exceptional amount of fortitude and patience over the years. But Charlie wondered if Karen could have ever truly understand the complicated Scully family dynamics. Her family had been the opposite of his own—a WASPy upbringing in the suburbs of New York City—a far cry from Naval base housing. He was all too aware that without his full scholarship to MIT, he most likely never would have met, much less married, someone in the social strata of Karen Delano Mueller, who had been raised in a world of prep schools and charity galas and European summer vacations. In many ways, Charlie mused, he and Dana had both found partners who grew up in similar circumstances. Over the years, Karen had tutored him in the art of small talk and fine dining, not to mention how to dress the part of an elite banking family member, and Charlie so no evidence that his sister had played (or would ever play) the part of Eliza Dolittle.

"Let me make a couple of phone calls," Scully offered, her voice jarring Charlie from his thoughts. "Our lawyer was supposed to be calling Justice today to set up a meeting."

"Dana, I don't want you to have to pull strings," Charlie whined, slumping against the bathroom wall. Much like his sister, Charlie was extremely independent, and hated the fact that he had to ask for guidance in any way. He would rather spend hours slumped over his laptop in search of answers rather than depend on someone else's advice.

"It's non-negotiable, Charlie," Scully told her younger brother, well-aware of how stubborn he could be in admitting that he needed any kind of assistance. "You can't afford to procrastinate in any way. From what you just said, it sounds like if you want to keep your family, you are going to have to bite the bullet and get this done the right way. But this isn't something that you can just get over with; you need to talk to an attorney. I can't speak for the state of your marriage, but I do know that you love Karen and you love your children, so do what needs to get done, and do it right. If you need time, Charlie, stay here. Although I don't know how much fun it will be with a sick kid in the house."

"Fine, call your guy. And I'm sorry," Charlie said, looking straight at his sister for the first time since he had wandered into the bathroom.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Charlie," Scully told her younger brother.

"Not about that, I was talking about what Karen said," Charlie sighed, once again nervously fiddling with this Sox cap. "She shouldn't have said that to you, Dana."

"She told you?" Scully asked with an arched eyebrow, surprised, as she wrestled with Will, trying to get him re-clothed. The one-year-old was now clutching his left ear, making it nearly impossible for his mother to put his dinosaur t-shirt over him.

"I couldn't help but overhear," Charlie admitted. "She lashed out at you because you were there. It isn't personal—she has always liked you. You were just the nearest target. None of this, well, family stuff, has been easy for her. She loses sight sometimes, of how things affect other people, how people process things differently. But she means well."

"She's just trying to protect her family," Scully awkwardly responded, turning her attention to her sick child.

XXXX

"I think Will has an ear infection," Scully explained. Will was sobbing in the background, clearly not happy to have been abandoned with his uncle on the back porch while his mother made some phone calls in the kitchen. "I'm taking him to the doctor in a few minutes."

"I'm on the ferry now," Mulder explained, frustrated over the timing of Scully's phone call. After dropping off Kyle at camp, he had driven around the island, hesitant to make his way to the PO Box in Hyannis where he would pick up the hard drive that Frohike had allegedly sent him. As much as he wanted answers, he wasn't sure if he could handle the truth regarding his friend's motives. "But I can turn around once I get to the Cape."

"There's no need to rush home. Pick up the package," Scully reassured him, waving to Will through the sliding glass door. "Umm, Thomas Cooke was here. So I had to get a hold of Preston. This guy wants to talk to me and Charlie, and as much as I want to put Bill away, I know we need to do it the right. The las thing I want is to be called to testify. Preston is flying here this afternoon, and we're having a sit-down with Cooke tomorrow morning."

"This Cooke guy's on the Vineyard?" Mulder responded, his voice sharpening. "Why?"

"Karen invited him to the house, and told the security guy that she was expecting a courier, and gave Jimmy the plates and everything." Scully rushed.

"I specifically told Jimmy that only you or I would be clearing visitors," Mulder angrily replied. "Cooke was at the house?"

"Yes, Cooke was here, but left after I put him on the phone with Preston. Mulder, what was Jimmy supposed to do? Yes it's worrisome, but Karen played him. It's a moot point, though. She's getting ready to leave now."

"She as in just her?"

"Her and Noah," Scully said more quietly, slipping into the laundry room and closing the door, to ensure that no one could overhear her. "Karen gave Charlie an ultimatum about talking to Justice. Peter was upset that Charlie wasn't going home with them, and I thought it would be okay, and said he could stay—"

"Scully, relax, it's fine," responded Mulder, his voice softening. "I'm just surprised, that's all. Of course he can stay."

"It's been chaotic all morning. And I'm sorry that I went ahead and called Preston, I just needed to get a hold of him before Charlie did something stupid," Scully blurted out. "And I should have called you as soon as Cooke walked through the door."

"Scully, calm down," Mulder interrupted her. "Why are you acting like you did something wrong? You have nothing to worry about. You have every right to contact Preston, and have your brother visit. You handled the situation. What's really going on, Scully?"

"It's fine," Scully stammered. "I'm just frazzled. I need to get Will to the doctor. I'll call you after the appointment."

As Scully ended the call, Mulder looked at his phone, confused as to what the hell was going on home. Scully was rarely _frazzled_, and the fact that she had shared her self-doubts over every decision she had made that morning throughout their short conversation concerned him greatly. It frustrated him to no end that there was nothing he could do at the moment, and once again cursed his poor sense of timing.

XXXXX

Upon their return from the pediatrician's office, Nathan had quickly picked up on the fact that his brother was monopolizing their mother's attention, and demanded some TLC of his own. It didn't matter that Peter and Charlie were playing trains with him, or that they had even taken him down to the beach before giving up and returning the minutes later; he made it clear that he wanted his mother.

Scully felt an overwhelming sense of guilt as she sat on the couch with both of her children. She had just given Will his first dose of penicillin, and he was beginning to drowse on her lap. Nathan had quickly escaped the kitchen after Charlie had had helped him off his booster seat upon finishing lunch, and had made a beeline to the living room, quickly clambering up the sofa. He was trying to nudge his brother off Scully's lap when Will squirmed, kicking Nathan in the chin. The screams and howls of both children filled the house for a good ten minutes, as Scully did her best to cuddle and calm down both of them. Thankfully, Charlie toted Will upstairs after the toddler fell asleep, allowing Nathan to have his mother to himself until he too dropped off into his afternoon nap. Once the two-year-old's breathing deepened, Scully slipped off the couch and pulled a blanket over the boy, not wanting to take him to the nursery and risk waking up either chid.

True to form, Mulder missed the chaos entirely, and arrived home fifteen minutes later. Scully signaled to him that they had to keep their voices down, and three adults retreated to the den after noticing the box Mulder had carried in with him. As promised, it contained a zip drive, which Charlie quickly connected to the desktop, and immediately began to reformat. After fifteen tense minutes, he muttered, "I'm in, guys."

Charlie scrolled through the directory, noting aloud that most of the files were compressed .jpegs. Mulder recognized the bulk of the photos from the album that Valerie-the-alleged-nanny had given them back in South Carolina, but something seemed off about them. He wished he was able to compare them.

"These look like the ones we got with the boys, but they are different," he said. "What do you think?"

"They seem familiar, but I can't say for sure," responded Scully, uncertain.

"Let's get Byers to email us a few scanned copies," Charlie suggested.

After opening up the Gunman's email, they were able to determine that the zip drive contained mirrored versions of the physical photos found in the album; but there was no way for Charlie to quickly ascertain which versions were the original. "This is a mess," Mulder grumbled, completely frustrated when they realized that the best course of action would be to send the zip drive back to DC, so Langly could use his considerable expertise to untangle the issue.

"Wait," Charlie practically exploded out of his chair, immediately sitting back down. "There's something else on this drive."

"But we've gone through all the pictures," Scully said. "Multiple times."

"No, it's not that," Charlie grumbled. "This hard drive is practically at capacity, and these photos only take up about 20% of the space."

"So what's taking up the rest of the memory?" Mulder asked.

"That's what we need to figure out."

XXXXX

"Hey Sherman," Mulder called out to his nephew, who was looking glum on the couch. Peter was annoyed at his father, who had promised to take him back down to the beach after their failed attempt from that morning, but was instead spending his time at the computer.

"Want to go on an adventure with me?"

Peter's eyes lit up. "Okay," he said tentatively, biting down on his lip.

"We need to pick out a movie to watch tonight," explained Mulder. "And then get Kyle."

"But won't Kyle want to pick a movie?" Peter nervously asked.

"He always gets to pick the movie," Mulder dismissed. "Tonight it's your turn."

Scully turned around from her perch on the floor, where she was helping Nathan with some sort of complicated-looking alphabet-and-animal puzzle. Scully had ordered it through some catalogue, and was extremely excited when it had arrived the week before, going on about how educational it was, and how it engaged multiple senses. Mulder didn't think that one simple toy could really have all that much of an effect on a child's development, and had just chalked up Scully's enthusiasm to her need to justify the purchase. In any case, Nathan had woken up from his nap relatively happy, and was clearly enjoying himself with the game.

"Thank you," Scully mouthed. She had felt terrible when Peter had explained that he was promised a trip to the beach, and she would have brought him down to the water herself, but between naps and pickups and waiting for Preston to arrive, she wasn't able to leave the house. She hadn't even had the chance to explain her nephews sullenness to Mulder; he had just instinctively known that Peter was having a rough day, and had wanted to do something to make it a little better.

"You seem more quiet than usual," Mulder said to Peter as they pulled out of the driveway, giving a slight wave to Jimmy, who was parked on the shoulder of the road. Since his chat with Mulder a few hours earlier, was with no doubt all the more alert as to who would be entering and exiting the grounds.

"Are you mad that I stayed here?" Peter asked, looking out of the window, away from Mulder. "Instead of going back home?"

"Of course not," Mulder said, trying to get a read on the boy's expression through the seven-year-old's reflection through the passenger side window. "You can stay as long as you want. Why did you think I was mad?"

Peter shrugged. "Cuz my Mom told me. I mean, my Mom said something, but it wasn't to me, but I overheard it when she and my Dad were fighting. And I don't know if I'm supposed to tell you our not," he sputtered. "So no matter what, I think I'm going to get in trouble."

"Peter, you can tell me anything. I won't get mad at you," promised Mulder, pulling into the gas station. "Honest. It's the second rule of the uncle-nephew code of say-whatever-you-want-and-you-won't-get-in-trouble. He stopped the car and touched his shoulder lightly; along with his red hair, Peter had inherited the Scully family trait to never look directly at another person with whom they are conducting an uncomfortable conversation.

Mulder thought that his comment would prompt Peter to ask him what the first rule of the code was, but instead, Peter surprised him by opening up. "Mom just said that it wasn't Dana's house so it didn't matter if she said it was okay that we stayed."

"Well, in my opinion, it's Dana's house too," Mulder said, trying to be as cheerful as possible. "So if she said okay, it's fine with me. And to tell you the truth, kiddo, if you asked me first, I would have said it was okay too."

"So why did my mom say that?"

"I have no idea," responded Mulder. The wheels were turning in his head; no wonder Scully had sounded so sensitive earlier, vocalizing how she had second-guessed herself on every decision that she had made that morning. He suddenly remembered a remnant of a conversation he had with Karen a few nights earlier, about the Scully siblings' innate sense of insecurity and self-doubt. "Maybe she was thinking of it from a legal perspective, because her name isn't on the deed yet. But you know what, Sherman? I wouldn't worry about it. The only thing you need to think of is what movie we're going to get. And I think that we should also pick up some ice cream. Real ice cream—not that tofutti stuff that's in the kitchen."

XXXXX

Even though Kyle had been pestering his father about basketball camp since he found out about the program a few weeks earlier, he wasn't sure if he actually wanted to go. After the first couple of weeks on the Vineyard, he was bored of hanging out with his father and Dana all day, and wanted to meet kids his age. But after that morning when his father registered him for for the program, and he got to play with the other campers for an hour, he realized that he was probably never going to see them again after the summer was over. Initially, he enjoyed having Peter around; even though his pseudo-cousin was seven-years-old, he acted older, and was well-versed in video games and baseball statistics. But it had been nearly a week since the Scully clan had arrived, and Kyle was looking forward to having less people around. Although he really liked Charlie and Peter, he found Karen to be too loud and kind of obnoxious.

The first day of camp went better-than-expected, and if things went as well the next day, he was hoping to ask his father if he could invite some of his teammates over the house. When he saw his father pull up in front of the community center, he said goodbye to some of the kids he had eaten lunch with, but the smile on his face disappeared when he saw a mop of red hair on the passenger side seat of his father's car. Had he got his cousin's departure date wrong? Why couldn't Peter have stayed home so he could at least have been able to talk to his father alone?

"Did you have a good time?" Mulder asked the eleven-year-old as he climbed into the car and threw his backpack across the backseat.

"Yeah it was fun," responded Kyle, his voice muted. "I thought you were going home today."

Peter warily turned around. "Me and my Dad are staying for a few days," he nervously explained. "Is that okay?"

Kyle's eyes slanted slightly upwards, and he caught the look in his father's face, the look that said lie-through-your-teeth-if-you-have-to, through the rearview mirror.

"That's awesome," Kyle said, hoping he sounded remotely cheerful, or at least not sarcastic. Overall, he guessed he didn't really mind too much, especially if Karen and Noah weren't going to be there.

He just wished he didn't have to keep sharing his father with so many people.

XXXXX

As fitting the status quo for the day, as soon as Mulder had a second alone with Scully, the baby monitor loudly crackled with Will's cries. "I'll get him," Mulder offered.

"Bring up some juice with you. He's probably dehydrated," Scully said, rushing to the fridge to hand Mulder a tumbler.

Will's sobs had muffled by the time he reached his son's room. As Mulder entered the nursery, he could see Will standing up in his crib with a confused look on his face.

"Hey there, buddy," Mulder said, picking him up. "I hope you are starting to feel better."

After a quick diaper change, Mulder scooped up Will and Doggy, and sat down on the old cherry rocking chair that Scully loved so much. He handed the juice cup to Will, who drank it greedily. "You are much more agreeable now than you were this morning, buddy," Mulder said to his youngest son. "You were not a happy camper. Does your ear still hurt?"

Will looked up at his father. "Your mom told me that you were very brave at the doctor's," Mulder said. "You are such a good boy, and I love you very much. Do you know you look just like your big brother when he was your age?"

Will ignored him in favor of his juice, which, by Mulder's judgment, wasn't going to last much longer. "I'm going to promise you this, buddy. Your mom and I are always going to love you and we're always going to be together, okay? Your big brother didn't get that, and I'm going to do it right this time, for you and Nathan. All five of us are going to be together, okay? And maybe if we're lucky, we'll get to see your Aunt Samantha and your cousin. Wouldn't that be fun? Having everybody in this house for summer vacation?"

Kyle and Peter tiptoed down the hall; they hadn't intended to overhear what was obviously a private moment between Mulder and the baby, but did it really count as 'listening in' if the baby couldn't talk? Kyle felt that weird flutter in his stomach that sometimes happened when he thought too much about how his mom wasn't around any more, and how things had changed so much over the past few months. Even though he really liked Dana, he sometimes imagined what it would be like if his mom was around instead of her, and that that all five of them—his parents, his brothers, and him—were going to go back to Manhattan in the fall.

He and Peter settled down his room, ready to play Boggle, when he realized that something was wrong with his cousin. "My mom and dad used to fight all the time," Kyle told Peter. Mulder had quietly told him why Peter was having a rough day; since he hadn't been instructed to not mention anything, he decided he should just say something. Keeping obvious secrets was stupid.

"Really?" Peter asked, doing his best to pretend that he wasn't upset.

"Yeah," Kyle sighed. "It sucks. But sometimes you get some cool presents out of it. I would rather they not fight, but getting extra ice cream or a video game isn't too bad."

"I got to pick out a movie at the video store," Peter asked. "Is it okay that I got Spaceballs?"

"That's one of my favorites! Me and my Dad haven't watched it in a long time. We should definitely watch it tonight with our dads," Kyle said, happy that Peter brightened up. Although that he had wished it was just him and his Dad at the house a few minutes earlier, he decided that having his new cousin and uncle around wasn't too bad.

"I have another question. Who's your Aunt Samantha?"

"It's a long story," Kyle said. He didn't think he had ever explained who she was to anyone, since his mother had explained to him that he shouldn't talk about it. But telling Peter was different-he was his new cousin, and he was probably going to find out anyway. The boys abandoned their game, and Kyle told Peter everything he knew.

XXXXX

"What's that?" Peter asked when he saw his aunt pour some medication into a tube-type dispenser that he had never seen before. They were just finishing dinner, and Peter was considerably happier than before the meal. His father agreed to watch Spaceballs, just like how he and Kyle had wanted, and since they wouldn't be able to start the movie until after the adults talked to Preston, he wouldn't have a bedtime.

"It's called a medicine dropper. Will has to take some penicillin for his ear infection, and he tried to spit it out when I gave him is first dose with a spoon," Scully explained, motioning Peter to move closer. "You see how it kind of looks like a syringe? When I push it, Will's going to swallow the medicine so fast that he can't spit it back up."

Will clearly did not enjoy the taste of his penicillin, but Scully was right in that the medicine dropper prevented him from spitting it out. "I know it tastes bad, sweetie," Scully said as she ruffled Will's hair. "Just sit tight for a few minutes."

"Me, me!" Nathan clamored.

Mulder, distracted from his conversation with Preston about Charlie's frustrations over not being able to open the zip drive file, watched in awe as Scully washed out the medicine dropper with a bottle brush, and then refilled it with some juice. "Okay, Nathan, open up!" she said.

"More!" Nathan said, giggling.

"Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow," Scully said as she rinsed it out and placed both the medicine and the medicine dropper in a high cabinet with a childproof lock. She was taking no chances with Nathan's curiosity, especially since whatever Nathan liked, Will liked. She was beginning to have second thoughts, in that the boys would think that the medicine was a candy or a toy. "Bath time, guys."

Mulder sat back on his perch on a kitchen island stool as Scully and the boys left the room. Since their trip to South Carolina, he had seen a new side of Scully. Not a new side, he scolded himself. Just more open. The passion that she had shown in her work over the past dix years was not nearly as intense as to the passion she had for their family. He wondered if anyone at the Bureau would even be able to recognize this woman standing in this kitchen who was able to give equal, loving attention to two toddlers, one sick and the other rambunctious.

XXXXX

Forty-five minutes later, the adults retreated to the back porch. Just as Preston began to lay down the prosecution's case against Bill, both Peter and Kyle came flying outside.

"What's wrong?" Scully asked, noting the look of alarm on both boys' faces.

"Uncle Bill is on the news," Peter said, breathlessly. "He was in handcuffs and everything."

With that, everyone rushed back into the house.


	22. Chapter Twenty One

They only caught the tail end of the news story, and had to wait nearly fifteen minutes for the segment to be repeated. The majority of the piece focused on the plight of the Bedford family, who had waited nearly twenty-five years for an arrest to be made. The photograph that the elderly Mr. Bedford clutched perfectly encapsulated his statement that his son, Teddy, was a 'gentle giant' who never had the opportunity to grow into adulthood. The newscaster then cut into a shot of Bill in handcuffs, flanked by police officers, in front of the federal district courthouse in Greenbelt. They identified him by name, with a spokesman for the Department of Justice noting, on camera, that Bill had been a person-of-interest in the case for quite some time, and the arrest was made only after building a rock-solid case against him.

Scully breathed a sigh of relief as the report wrapped up; she had worked cases where much more damaging information had been leaked to the press during the midst of an investigation. However, a cursory glance around the room made her realize that not everyone felt the same way. Preston was already barking into his cell phone, no doubt raising holy hell with whoever he had been liaising with at Justice; Charlie was sullen, slouched on the sofa with his baseball cap covering his face; and Mulder had a blank expression, his eyes fixed on the two children sprawled on the floor, trying to comprehend what was going on around them.

The family sat in silence until the shrill tone of a cell phone blared from the kitchen, practically making Scully jump out of her seat. "It might be better if I get this one," Mulder offered, waiting until Scully nodded in response before going into the kitchen. It took a few extra seconds for her mind to catch up, realizing that it must have been her mobile that had rang.

"What's going to happen?" Kyle asked from his perch on the floor, looking directly at his stepmother. Although he couldn't make out what the adults in the other rooms were saying, he could hear drifts of his father's telephone conversation emanating from the kitchen, mixing with the deep boom of Preston's voice in the den. He pulled his knees up in front of him, his arms hugging them upright. Scully could see traces of panic cross Kyle's face.

"Nothing should change for us," Scully carefully responded, hoping she wasn't inadvertently tempting fate. "You know that me and Charlie have to talk to some of the officers working on the case, and answer their questions. And that should be it, at least for now. The trial might not happen for awhile yet."

"Are you going to go the courtroom and talk in front of everybody?" Peter asked.

"I don't know, kiddo," Charlie sighed, flipping his baseball cap off his face and onto his head. "But you don't have to worry about it."

Scully lost her train of thought as she realized that Mulder's voice was getting louder. Charlie unmuted the television and flipped the channel. Once everyone's attention became focused on a baseball game, she took the opportunity to slip out of the room and join her partner in the kitchen. She entered in time to see Mulder toss her cell phone across the room and kick the kitchen island; she grabbed his shoulder as he slumped down to the marble surface.

"Was it her?" she asked, wrapping her left arm across her chest, leaning into him, their foreheads barely touching.

Mulder nodded in assent, his eyes still closed. He was trying his hardest to control his anger, and wanted to shield Scully as best he could for as long as possible. He had first become close with Margaret Scully during his partner's abduction; during those rare times when thought about those three months, he keenly remembered the maternal warmth that Margaret had shown him. After her return, Scully would sometimes drop little comments about how her mother liked Mulder more than her; it wasn't until much later that Mulder had realized she was not joking.

Before he had even met Scully, he had profiled her: reading her thesis, her background check, and other items that Danny and the Gunmen had scrounged up. On paper, it had seemed so clear: youngest daughter of a lower-middle class family that obviously placed great importance on academics and public service; her professional resume indicated that she was smart, ambitious, and by-the-book. Upon working their first case together, Mulder was surprised by how Scully—the person, not the profile—caught him off-guard; instead of working against him, her insistence on upholding logic and the rules, no matter how mundane, was how she protected him and upheld the integrity his work. What he regretted the most was resisting this realization for so long; if he could have done it all over again, he would have appreciated her far more earlier on in their relationship.

From all outward appearances, Scully emitted a no-nonsense attitude, which she had to, really; a woman in her position had to work twice as hard for half the respect of her male counterparts, especially when in the field. While Bureau headquarters was relatively politically correct, the small towns where they are sent on cases were usually a completely different story. Although Mulder had witnessed, time and again, Scully's incredible capacity for compassion, he had assumed that her tendency to keep her emotions under the surface was just how she made her way in a male-dominated profession. It wasn't until after he met Bill that Mulder began to think about how Scully's pre-Bureau life could have helped shape her ice queen moniker.

And then, one morning, shortly after they became romantically involved, the answer hit him with full force.

It wasn't that Scully didn't feel things—it was that she felt them _too much_—so she needed to detach herself in order to cope. That was why she was so methodical, why she had taken such pains in the early tenure of their partnership to separate work, home, family. It had been born out of a habit that she had acquired much earlier in life, in order to best make sure that any given facet of her existence did not penetrate another. That was, until her relationship with Mulder changed, and the metaphorical flood gates had opened.

As he hovered over the table, Mulder did his best to mentally rebuild those walls around their new family.

"Talk to me, Mulder," Scully pleaded softly, knowing that it was a bad sign that Mulder's eyes were still shut and his jaw was clenched.

"Come here," he mumbled, pulling her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her, resting his chin on the top of her head.

"Tell me," Scully repeated, her anxiety rising.

"She wanted to talk to me, actually," Mulder began. "She thought we could somehow fix this, call in a few favors. She sounds scared, and I don't think she really thought we could do anything, she was just grasping at straws."

"She always found you to be more sympathetic than I," Scully admitted. "But that wouldn't have made you this angry."

"Who says I'm angry?" Mulder asked, trying to sound casual.

"Your heart is racing, Mulder, I can hear it thumping," responded Scully. "You're clammy and your forehead is sweaty. You just threw the phone across the room. You have to tell me what she said. You aren't protecting me by not telling me. We've been over this, Mulder, no more secrets. You promised."

"She tried to manipulate me, Scully," Mulder finally admitted after thirty seconds of silence.

"How so?" Scully asked, breaking apart from him so she could look in his eyes.

Mulder chewed on his lower lip as she recalled the conversation he had just concluded with Margaret. Finally he said, "She said that I would understand where she was coming from, what she was thinking, since I'm a parent."

He ached as he saw a crestfallen look cross Scully's face.

"That's when I snapped" Mulder continued. "I told her that it is possible for parents to be supportive of all of their children, and if she had no interest in meeting her grandsons, she had no business contacting us. And I asked her not to call again."

Scully nodded, absorbing everything that Mulder had recounted. A million thoughts from thousands of directions flittered across her brain: her mother's tenacity in protecting her oldest brother juxtaposed with her father's lectures on personal responsibility and integrity. What had happened in the aftermath of that November evening all of those years ago? Had her mother somehow convinced her father to coverup Bill's crime? That was the simplest, most logical answer. Would this come out during the trial? A wave of dizziness swept over her, and she clutched the marble table top with one hand, and Mulder's right shoulder with the other.

"Did you hear me?" Mulder asked, gazing at Scully with concern as she shook her head.

"About your cell phone, what about getting a new number?"

Before she could answer, Preston strode into the room, his expression angry. "Justice sped up the arrest because of a leak that threatened to undermine a larger investigation into why your brother hadn't been charged back when it happened," he began. "An agent who was brought in on the case connected the dots between Bill and Agent Scully, and started asking too many questions."

"Who?" Mulder asked.

"Are you familiar with a Tom Colton?"

"Bastard," Mulder swore.

"My contact at Justice is confident that your profile, Mulder, has remained undiscovered," continued Preston. "But they are tightening the noose, so to speak; they want you to walk them through your profile."

"But you said they wanted no contact with me," Mulder argued. "Why do they insist on dragging me into this mess if they don't want my name to appear anywhere near it?"

"Tactical change on their part," Preston responded, holding up his hands in frustration. "I got them to agree to a meeting with you in New York, the day after tomorrow. This way you won't be spotted in DC, and you'll be away from prying eyes. It will take about a day, maybe two."

"So they have a nosy buffoon like Colton sticking his nose where it doesn't belong, and in order to save their case, they arrest Bill, and still need _my_ help to build a case that doesn't involve my original profile? You know that this is going to snowball; they say they want a meeting that will last one day, but I refuse to get sucked into this case even further," Mulder angrily explained. "I'm on leave, and there are so many conflicts of interest it's bound to get screwed up. You know that they want to pin this on me in case they can't get their shit together."

"I'm going in that room with you," Preston promised. "Legally speaking, they won't be able to touch you."

"But they can leak it to the press," Scully pointed out.

"Not when I'm through with them. Now I need to talk to your brother. We have a long day tomorrow," Preston sighed, fixing himself a manhattan.

XXXXX

Scully wasn't looking forward to her interview with Cooke in the morning—she didn't trust him (or anyone at Justice, really), and after that evening's clusterfuck, she certainly didn't have any expectations that whatever she would say would remain confidential. She could only hope that her personal involvement with the case would be confined to the pre-trial stage of the proceedings, and that Mulder's involvement with the cold case profile remain undisclosed. Her reluctance to participate in the interview was compounded by Will's illness. A secondary effect of his ear infection was congestion; she heard him coughing over the baby monitor as Preston and Charlie settled into the den, and when entering the nursery, she was greeted by a red-faced baby with a runny nose.

She snuggled with Will on her bed, making sure that he was propped up by pillows, to help ease his congestion. She knew that babies caught colds all of the time, but a part of her was worried that her son's health was compromised. As an extra precaution, she had asked the pediatrician's office to send some of his blood to a lab that was actually a front for the Gunmen. When they had pricked Will's foot during his appointment, she remembered the sense of relief that washed over her when she saw that the baby's blood was red. Scully wondered whether this all-encompassing parenting anxiety would ever become manageable; the fear she felt on behalf of the children was overwhelming, especially during an evening in which everything around her seemed to have collapsed.

She kissed the temple of Will's forehead once he finally fell asleep, and after surrounding him with pillows, she slipped out of the master bedroom and decided to join everyone else downstairs, where they were watching a movie. The kids had heavily hinted that the evening's viewing of _Spaceballs_ was for boys only, and while that normally wouldn't have bothered her, she felt an overwhelming need to be physically close to Mulder.

Mulder could see Scully's shadow from the corner of his eye as she approached them. He was sprawled out on the couch, his head resting on one arm, and his feet dangling off the other. He could sense her hesitation as she hovered by the entryway to the room. She must have made some sort of noise, as Kyle's head snapped around, and Mulder could see a small grimace cross his son's face. Mulder shot his son a look, unsure of whether the eleven-year-old could even see him. He stretched out his left arm, motioning for his partner to join him. In a flash, she was at his side, slipping onto the sofa, one arm snaked under his chest and the other curled at his hip. She pressed her face against his chest, and despite the volume of the television, her breathing deepened and she fell asleep. He instinctively pulled the afghan that was slung on the back of the couch over the both of them.

After the movie ended, Kyle saw that his father's attention was wrapped up in Dana; realizing that he wouldn't get a moment alone with him, he stomped off to bed, not caring whether the loud pound of his footsteps on the stairs would wake his brothers. Nothing seemed to have worked out for him that day; maybe tomorrow would bring better luck.

XXXXX

"Scully, I can handle it," Mulder promised the next morning, sipping on some coffee. It wasn't even eight am, and it had been a rough morning for the both of them. In the past half hour alone, she had explained, written down, and explained again the instructions regarding Will's medication. The baby had woken up cranky, and had made it quite clear to his parents that he did not like to blow his nose, and the mere sight of a napkin, tissue, or paper towel drove him to tears.

"When he takes a nap, make sure his head is elevated," Scully reminded him for at least the third time. "And we have Pedialite pops in the freezer. He needs fluids."

"I absolutely refuse to give him fake popsicles, Scully," explained Mulder with a look of disgust crossing his face. "That's where I draw the line. It's an act of child cruelty."

"So then go to the grocery store and get some real ones," Scully sighed crankily. "I can stop on my way home, but that won't be until four at the earliest."

She regretted sounding so bitchy. The only solid sleep she had the night before had been on the couch during the movie; on she got back to the bedroom, her anxiety had kept her up all night, until Will began to fuss at four am. She had brought the baby downstairs, to avoid waking up the rest of the household, and had found her brother working on three different computers in the den, all in an effort to crack open the hard drive the Gunmen had mailed.

The two siblings had polished off a pot of coffee by the time Mulder had joined them downstairs; they were to meet Preston and Thomas Cooke at Mulder's father's house in a half-hour. It was an ideal location for such an interview—private, secure, and out-of-the-way. She wasn't thrilled to be separated from the boys, but it was the best option available to them.

"Scully, relax," Mulder told her, adjusting Will in his arms. "I was just kidding."

"I know," Scully quickly responded, fiddling with the car keys in her hand, and bending down to give Nathan one last hug. "I'm sorry. We need to go. I'll update you when I can. If either of them are running fevers, just—"

"I've got this. Will needs to go straight to the pediatrician; if its Nathan, we can try a round of children's tylenol first," Mulder repeated, bending down to give her a kiss as she murmured that she loved him. "And if Sherman gets sick, we lock him outside. Kyle, Dana's taking you to camp today."

Peter giggled from his seat at the kitchen table, while Kyle mumbled goodbye and found his backpack, wondering whether anyone would care if he broke a limb or contracted the bubonic plague.

As if she had read her stepson's mind, Scully said, "And Kyle, if you feel sick call me immediately, okay?" Scully told him. "Even if it's a sore throat. I'll pick you up. Promise?"

Kyle nodded, his aggravation towards her slowly evaporating. Secretly, he was happy that Dana had a contingency plan for him; he was still confused as to what his father decided by himself, and what decisions she made with him. But, his dad was pretty hopeless when it came to medical stuff. As soon as Kyle saw Dana starting to say her goodbyes to his brothers, and tell Peter that he was in charge of his uncle, her felt his irritation increase, and decided to slink towards the garage. He didn't understand what the big deal was; she was just going to be fifteen minutes away.

The ride to camp was pretty quiet; after he ignored the first two questions Dana had asked him about his previous day, she got the hint and stopped talking. As she pulled into the community center parking lot, she told him that she would be picking him up in the afternoon. After he jumped out the SUV and began to walk towards a few kids he had talked to the previous day, he pretended not to hear his stepmother call him back to the car, but when he heard Charlie's voice, he relented. He slowly walked back towards them, tugging on the straps of his backpack. "What?" he asked impatiently.

"I forgot to tell you," Scully said to him, resting her sunglasses on the top of her head. "Let us know if you want to invite any of your new friends over, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," Kyle mumbled in response. He could feel his face brighten, and he quickly turned around, hoping he hadn't sounded too excited.

Scully didn't restart the car until she saw Kyle talk to a group of kids, and even then, she only pulled away from the curb after the driver in back of her began honking incessantly. "Dana, what the hell?" Charlie complained. "Can we just get out of here without anyone killing us?" Before that morning, he hadn't seen his sister in such Type A mode in years; just being in the kitchen at the same time as her that morning had completely drained him. Even with a sick child in the mix, he would have changed places with Mulder in a heartbeat.

"I just wanted to make sure Kyle was okay," Scully explained defensively. "I'm worried about him. I know that he isn't too thrilled with me at the moment."

"Yeah, and I wonder why," Charlie snappishly retorted.

Scully quickly closed her mouth as they continued their drive in complete silence.

XXXXX

Mulder had no illusions that solo parenting duty over a sick and cranky baby, a rambunctious toddler, and a genius seven-year-old who knew entirely too much about a murder investigation, would be easy. He just hadn't expected it to be so difficult.

In just one hour, they had managed to play trains, build towers, knock down towers, read some books, toss around stuffed animals, before beginning it all over again. He would never admit it to Scully, but he was beginning to understand the havoc wrought by a short attention span. "Park!" Nathan whined as Mulder stretched out on the floor in exhaustion.

"Not today, buddy. Your brother isn't feeling too great," Mulder responded, knowing that Nathan wouldn't understand the explanation, and even if he did, he wouldn't like it.

"Park!"

"No park," Mulder repeated, shoring up his energy to clean up the room a bit.

"Park!"

As he sat back up against the couch, Mulder felt Nathan's dark eyes lock with his. The toddler emanated a look of pure stubbornness, and his lower lip protruded shakily as he once again repeated himself. The look that flashed across the boy's face reminded Mulder of his ex-wife, a thought that he pushed out of his mind as quickly as possible. Although he firmly believed that Scully was the only mother that Nathan would ever need to know, practically speaking, they wouldn't be able to avoid the Diana subject forever. He didn't know how they would broach the subject when the time came, but that wasn't something about which he needed to worry quite yet.

A quick glance around the room confirmed that Will was content, at least for the moment, in playing with some blocks with Peter. The one-year-old looked tired, and Mulder hoped that he could hold his own until his next dose of penicillin. As he set about picking up some toys and putting them into their bins, he instructed Nathan to help him out. Instead, the two-year-old followed him around the room, repeating his plea to go to the park. Mulder did his best to ignore his son's cries, and try to otherwise distract him.

"Will's eating his boogers," Peter informed Mulder as he struggled to pull some toy trains from underneath the couch.

"I really don't know what you want me to do about that," Mulder sighed, half-serious. "Kids eat boogers. They aren't necessarily good for you, but they won't kill you either. Now we know what's going to happen if I make him blow his nose, so why don't we just skip this part of the agenda when Aunt Dana asks us what we did all day?"

The thought of keeping such information to himself obviously tickled Peter, who nodded excitedly and skipped across the room. Mulder had to hand it to his nephew—he was incredibly patient, and the both boys adored him. He knew that the seven-year-old must be bored stiff, and made a mental note to make sure that they did something fun before he left to go back home to Cambridge.

He barely realized that Nathan was still campaigning for a trip to the park when he finished clearing a pathway across the living room. "Nathan, if we go to the park, we can't do this," Mulder smiled as he picked up the boy and held him upside-down, swinging him back and forth. The room filled with Nathan's giggles and screams, and after setting him down right-side-up on the floor, he jumped up and down, crying 'more.'

Mulder snatched a look at his watch before picking up the toddler again—only ten minutes had passed since he last looked at the time. Their long morning was only getting longer.

XXXXXXX

A few short miles away, Scully was sitting in the slightly musty living room of Bill Mulder's former house. She had only been there a couple of times before, and certainly had no desire to spend any more time there than absolutely necessary. She had no desire to spend her morning both recounting Thanksgiving 1977, a holiday that she barely remembered, and answering questions about the months that preceded and followed. So much for all of the resolutions she had made to keep the past behind her, and to focus on her future.

At first, Scully had little to say—that she was in the hospital during the time period in question, and at thirteen years old, was not privy to any conversations between her parents regarding her father's employment with the Navy. Her time in law enforcement had instilled in her the importance of never offering any extraneous information, and the necessity of answering only the direct questions posed in as succinctly a manner as possible, which clearly frustrated Cooke.

"When did you get sick, exactly?" Cooke asked.

"A couple of days before Thanksgiving," Scully recalled. "My mother thought nothing of it. It wasn't until the day before the holiday, when Uncle Ned—he was a doctor—when he arrived at our house for the holiday, he noticed the signs of appendicitis, and took me to the hospital."

"When were you released?"

Scully only continued after she saw Preston nod. "I think it was that Tuesday. I was in the hospital for just under a week."

"And you were readmitted?" Cooke asked, his eyes glancing up and down the legal pad in front of him.

"I was back in the hospital that weekend."

"Do you know why?"

Scully sighed. "I had an infection. I was there for another three or four days."

"This information is no different than what Dr. Scully gave you over the phone the other day," Preston interjected. "What are you trying to get at here?"

Cooke sighed, fidgeting with his tie. "Let me start off by being clear. You know full well, Agent Scully, that you would never have passed your initial Bureau background check if it was even thought that you were aware of or otherwise involved in some coverup of your brother's case," he finally responded. "But I have a responsibility of due diligence, and must be extraordinarily careful when it comes to the timeline of events in this case. In order to keep you out of the courtroom completely, I need to demonstrate that your integrity is unimpeachable. I don't have much time to get our records in order before the discovery phase of these proceedings. Everything I have to turn over to the defense can't even suggest that any thought that you might have known a thing about this crime or coverup even crossed our minds. To us, you were nothing but a sick child stuck in the hospital when all of this happened."

"So who is suggesting otherwise?" Scully asked, her blue eyes blazing.

"We just all need to be prepared for when it becomes public knowledge that the kid sister of the accused is an FBI agent," Cooke smoothly answered, leaning back in his chair.

"You seem confident that is going to happen quite soon," remarked Scully, trying to ignore the fluttering feeling in her stomach.

"Maybe we should just turn our attention to our other star witness," Cooke sourly continued. "Tell me about that Thanksgiving, Charles."

XXXXXXX

Mulder was thankful that the boys held off on their epic meltdowns until after Scully had called to checkup on them. One minute, he was heating up some of the homemade macaroni and cheese the Scully had made the day before as they amused themselves at the kitchen table with some toys, and it seemed as soon as he ended the call, they were both crying hysterically.

"Do you know what happened?" Mulder asked Peter, who was looking over at his cousins with a befuddled expression, shrugging in response.

He knew that it really didn't matter; they were hungry, and since Will was due for his medication after lunch, Mulder suspected he might be in some pain. He had dutifully taken Nathan's temperature earlier, and he was fever-free, but his nose had been constantly running all morning. So for all intents and purposes, the two toddlers were sick, hungry, and cranky.

Mulder could have sworn that he had strapped Nathan into his booster seat, but he had clearly failed to do so. The two-year-old stood up and tried to climb up on the table, probably to rescue one of his trains, but lost his footing and fell backwards. He ran over to his crying son, who somehow landed on the floor without cracking hi head. The five seconds of pure silence that followed the _thud_ were among the scariest of Mulder's life, and he had never been more thankful to hear Nathan's cries once they came.

He sat on the kitchen floor with Nathan's face buried in his neck, hugging the toddler close. He lost all track of time until Peter announced that something was burning; as soon as he opened the stove, the smoke detector went off, prompting both boys to cry even harder.

After disabling the smoke detector, Mulder wasn't sure what to do; both boys were still wailing at the table, there was macaroni and cheese boiling over the bottom of the oven, and his ears were ringing. He stood in the middle of the kitchen in stunned silence, until Peter slipped something into his hand. He looked down, and saw a package of frozen dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets. "They look good, but it's going to take a bit to clean out the oven," he responded regretfully.

"Use the microwave," the seven-year-old said with an exasperated, Scully-patented expression.

Mulder grimaced, thinking that he could have saved all of them a lot of agony if he had done that in the first place.

XXXXXXX

Scully pulled into the parking lot of the rec center, debating her next move. She could see Kyle speaking with a group of boys, looking more animated than she had seen him over the past couple of days. She didn't want to pull him away from his new friends quite yet, but she also didn't want him to panic, and think that everyone forgot about him. Everything having to do with parenting seemed to come in extremes, as though the simple act of picking up an eleven-year-old from day camp would either result in extreme social embarrassment or irreversible feelings of neglect.

She decided to wait another few minutes before alerting Kyle to her presence. She killed the engine and sat back, lost in thought. She hadn't prepared herself for how difficult it would be to sit through Charlie walk through his movements during that one week in 1977. He had clearly spent a lot of time revisiting a painful time of his life, and listening to him had triggered her memory. She wished she could just ignore these flashes of her past, but that had already proven to be a fruitless endeavor.

Watching Kyle adjust to living with Mulder, and then with her and Mulder, and then again with his younger brothers, she couldn't help but think of her own childhood struggles in adjusting to new places. She was a couple of years older than him now when she moved from Germany to Maryland, and then to San Diego. She remembered how difficult it had been to adjust to new schools, new people, and different boundaries. Most of all, she remembered how a preteen Dana Scully had done everything she could in seeking her parents' approval. All she wanted at that age was acknowledgment from her father that she was a good girl. She remembered equating the amount of time she spent with Ahab with the amount of love that she deserved.

Would she be projecting too much if she assumed that Kyle harbored similar thoughts? Scully hated to think if that were the case. Mulder was doing his best to give each of the boys special, one-on-one attention, and he made sure that when he was playing with the kids, he was devoting his entire self to them. She cringed as she remembered her actions from the night before, when she slipped into the living room while they were watching a movie.

Once she realized that a group of cars had cleared the area, she restarted the car, and pulled forward towards the curb by the rec center entrance. She saw Kyle say goodbye to the boys with whom he was talking, and head towards the car. As Kyle slipped into the passenger side seat, he asked, "Where's Charlie?"

Scully's heart sank a bit. "He's still at the meeting," she explained. "Preston will drop him home later."

"Does Dad still have to go on his work trip tomorrow?"

"Yup, he'll be leaving early in the morning. He'll probably have to be there overnight," Scully explained while exiting the parking lot.

"This isn't the way home that Dad goes," Kyle complained. Knowing that his father would have to get up early the next morning did not bode well for his plan to ask him whether they would be able to go swimming that night.

"We have to stop at the grocery store," Scully answered patiently. "We need to get some stuff for dinner."

"And popsicles," reminded Kyle.

"We can't forget the popsicles," Scully repeated with a slight sigh as they swung into the parking. She took a breath and tried to sound as cheerful as possible. "Is there anything else we need? Or is there enough ice cream stashed in a paper bag in the freezer to last until your Dad gets back?"

Kyle looked at her slack-jawed. "You know about that?"

"Of course I do," Scully shrugged as she pulled out a grocery cart. "I am an FBI agent."

"Does Dad know that you know?"

"Probably," Scully answered, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head as they entered the store.

"Are you going to yell at him?"

"Why would I do that?" Scully asked, intrigued by Kyle's questions.

"Because you don't like junk food," explained Kyle, picking up a bag of grapes that Scully pointed to as she placed a bag of apples in the cart. "So are you mad at us?"

"Of course not, why would you think that?" Scully asked, noticing the frown that crossed Kyle's face.

"I don't know," Kyle stammered, looking at the tiled floor.

"Kyle, I'm not mad at anyone," Scully promised, wheeling the cart over to a display of watermelons, hoping that they wouldn't block the aisle for other shoppers before she had the chance to finish. "I don't say anything about the ice cream because I know that it's a special thing that you and your Dad do, and I don't want to ruin it. It's like how he sneaks cookies to your brothers right before lunch."

Kyle looked unconvinced.

"I used to do special things with my father too, when he was home. And I would get really frustrated when we didn't get to do stuff, just with him and me," Scully continued, wondering why she and Kyle only seemed to have their heart-to-heart conversations in public places. "And that's why I owe you an apology."

"For what?" Kyle asked, trying to process why Dana was telling him all of this in the middle of the grocery store. He was hot, sweaty, tired, and hungry. The only good thing about stopping to run errands was that the grocery store was air conditioned.

"I interrupted your movie last night, and I realized today that I shouldn't have done that," Scully managed to finish.

"It's okay," Kyle said, trying to avoid eye contact. "It was just a movie."

"But it was also something that you wanted to do with your dad too," Scully insisted, placing her hand on Kyle's shoulder. "I know that I hated it when that happened to me and my dad when I was your age."

"Okay," Kyle said, trying to look at the watermelons instead of his stepmother.

"So do we need to pick up ice cream along with the popsicles?"

"No," Kyle shrugged. "Sorry, but I really only like it when me and Dad get it."

"I think I would feel the same way," Scully agreed, as they headed towards the frozen food aisle together.

XXXXXXXX

Mulder grinned from ear-to-ear as soon as he saw Scully pull into the driveway from the living room window. Kyle ran into the house like a shot, giving his father a high five. "I really smell bad," he said proudly.

"Good thing we have showers and bathtubs then," Mulder said. "I suggest you find one immediately. And if you like the water, you might like this ocean-thing we have in the backyard. Feel like trying it out tonight?"

"Nightswimming?" Kyle broke out into a smile.

"Just you and me, bud," Mulder explained as Kyle bounded up the stairs. "Right after dinner, okay?"

"This is a warm welcome home," Scully said after Mulder greeted her with a kiss and took the bag of groceries out of her arms. "How is everybody feeling?"

"Will just woke up from a long nap and is like a new person," Mulder reported. "And Nathan's runny nose has remained a runny nose only. He took a bit of a spill but has bounced back quite nicely."

"Where are they?" Scully asked. "It's kind of quiet here. Too quiet, maybe."

"In their fort," Mulder shrugged, pulling her into the living room. "We decided after lunch that naps are definitely more fun this way."

Scully smiled as she saw the complicated arrangement of blankets and sheets draped over the furniture, and the pillows and stuffed animals that littered the floor. "Are you guys having fun?" she asked as she crawled through one of the flaps between an armchair and couch. She wondered what was keeping the sheets intact, and in looking up, she spotted duct along the wall. She suppressed an inward groan, willing herself not to let that dampen her mood.

"It's pretty great in here," Scully said, as Nathan crawled into her lap.

"You know, this is a pretty sophisticated engineering project," Mulder explained. "Peter and I worked really hard on our blueprints."

"Those are top secret, so don't even ask," Peter piped up from his spot on a pillow, barely looking up from his book. Will was sitting next to him, chewing on his fingers and holding up Doggy to his father.

"I won't ask then," Scully murmured, deciding to stretch out onto the floor once Nathan abandoned her lap in favor of his trains. She tucked a couch pillow under head, and looked up. "You used the sheets with the stars as the ceiling. You put a lot of work into this."

Mulder knee-walked next to her before lying down himself. "We've had a productive day," he agreed. "Sherman's been a fantastic second-in-command."

"But Aunt Dana said I was in charge this morning," Peter contended, placing his book down on the floor with a huff.

Scully could tell by their banter that they must have been discussing this issue all day, and bit back a laugh as Will crawled over to her.

They sat there in silence, joined by Kyle a few moments later. "This is awesome!" he said.

"I really don't feel like cooking dinner," Scully admitted. "Do you mind grilling?"

"We're going to have to," Peter snorted from his corner.

"The oven is out of commission," Mulder rushed. "Nothing to worry about. Peter and I have a plan."

Scully turned over on her side, facing him, eyebrow arched. "I just hope that plan is that I don't have to fix it," she hinted, playing with the collar of shirt.

"No, we decided it would be Charlie's job," Mulder sweetly smiled, prompting a laugh out of his partner. "In the mean time, I think we should all stay in our fort."

XXXX

Scully wasn't sure how long she slept, but when she woke up, it was twilight. She crawled out of the fort, and made her way to the kitchen, where she saw her family eating the remnants of dinner. "Hungry?" Mulder asked, pointing to some grilled chicken and salad he had scooped out onto a plate for her.

"Thanks," she said, sitting down next to him, tickling Nathan in the process. "How long was I out for?"

"An hour or so," he responded. "I would have had to wake you up soon anyway. Kyle and I have a secret mission in a few minutes."

"I'm happy to be on clean up duty," Scully promised, giving Kyle a wink. "And you are right, naps are definitely better in a living room fort."

"No nap," Nathan squealed from his seat, a look of panic crossing his face, before turning his attention to taking his carrot stick off his plate. Mulder reflexively put it back, inwardly cursing himself for having taught that trick to Nathan in the first place.

"Do you know when my Dad's coming home?" Peter asked from across the table.

"Charlie's not back yet?" Scully asked, concerned. A quick look at Mulder's face told her that something was going on.

"He was here for a few minutes. He and Preston had to go out again," explained Mulder.

"Peter, do you want to go swimming with me and my Dad?" Kyle asked.

"Really?" Peter asked.

"It's more fun when you're there," Kyle honestly confided. "Is that okay, Dad?"

"Of course," Mulder said, proud of his son. "Why don't you guys get your swim stuff so we can head on down there?"

"What's going on with Charlie?" Scully asked as soon as the boys clattered up the stairs.

"He and Preston are discussing some things," Mulder explained. "Charlie's going to have to come with us tomorrow."

"But your meeting is about your profile," Scully said, putting down her fork. "What does that have to do with Charlie?"

"That's the official reason for going," cryptically answered Mulder.

"What aren't you saying, Mulder?" Scully asked impatiently.

"I need to introduce Charlie to one of my contacts," Mulder said, emphasizing the last word. "It looks like they might have some mutually beneficial information."

"How so?" Scully asked, wide-eyed.

"Charlie was able to crack open that program on the hard drive, that's all I know. He won't tell me what he found," Mulder explained. "We only had a few minutes to talk."

"Shouldn't that be good news?" Scully asked, wondering why Mulder still looked so concerned.

"Scully, there's one other thing," Mulder said, lowering his voice. "I don't want to make you panic, and I have absolutely no context for what Charlie meant when he said it. I also don't completely understand how the two items are connected, at least not yet. But it's what he and Preston are discussing now."

"Said what?" Scully inched closer to her partner, who remained silent. "Mulder, what did he say?"

"That he lied to Cooke during your meeting."

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Let me know what you think!**


	23. Chapter Twenty Two

A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting! Thanks for reading and reviewing.

XXXXXX

It wasn't difficult for Scully to keep busy as she waited for her brother to return. Mulder had taken Kyle and Peter down to the water, so she was on her own for tub duty. She was concerned that Nathan seemed mellower than usual, only exerting minimal effort in that particular night's edition of his nightly bath time rebellion. She was heartened by the fact that Will was paying more interest in his boats than he had the previous evening.

"Are you feeling okay, monkey?" Scully asked Nathan as she pulled him out of the tub, wrapping him up with one towel, and using another to dry off his curly hair.

"No bed," he stubbornly protested with a whine, stomping his foot on the ground while squirming in his mother's grasp.

"Well, we still have to wait for Daddy to help tuck you in," Scully compromised as she helped him into his pajamas, still uncertain as to whether his attitude was a result of not feeling well, or was merely a symptom of the terrible twos. "So why don't you pick out some books?"

"No bed," repeated Nathan, tears welling up in his eyes. "No bed."

Scully braced herself for the wail that would follow in the next thirty seconds, and figured she had about ninety more before Will would join in on the fun. She blocked out the crying as best she could as she picked up Nathan and took Will's hand, leading them into the master bedroom. She went back into the nursery for their stuffed animals and blankets before climbing into bed with some books; the best thing for the overtired toddlers was some quiet time during which they could both stretch out and cuddle.

Mulder found the three of them fast asleep when he walked into the bedroom an hour later. After a quick shower to rinse off the remnants of sand and salt from his trip to the beach, he carefully took the picture books that were lying across Scully's legs and stacked them in a pile on his nightstand. He crawled into bed next to Nathan, who was sprawled face down, one hand mightily clutching Woofy, the other curled under his mother's arm. Mulder hated the fact that he would have to wake up Scully in a few minutes, wishing instead that he would be able to just turn off the bedside lamp and drift off with them. He silently chastised himself for missing bedtime—his early departure from the airport the next morning would mean leaving the house well before the boys usually woke up.

He lay down on his side, watching Nathan's chest rise and fall with his steady breathing. On the two-year-old's other side, Scully was sleeping in a somewhat twisted position, with Will slung across her, his mouth slightly open, his left arm stretching across her stomach. After a few moments Mulder reluctantly got out of bed, and stretched over to gently pick up Nathan. The two-year-old started blabbing a bit, but remained asleep. Mulder got him under the covers in his own bed before retrieving Will, who opened his eyes briefly when being lowered into his crib.

Mulder was loathe to wake up Scully. Despite the strong temptation to let her sleep, he knew that she would be furious if she missed a chance to speak with her brother before their trip to New York. He re-entered their bedroom and lay back down next to her, quietly saying her name while rubbing her shoulder. She opened her eyes and yawned with a confused expression across her face. "Did we fall asleep?" she finally croaked, swallowing hard and slow propping herself into a sitting position. "We were trying to wait up a bit but they were overtired."

"I'm not surprised. Believe me, even being cooped up inside all day, they expended enough energy to earn an early bedtime," Mulder shared, breaking into a proud smile. "I'm just sorry I missed story time."

Scully shook her head. "You were with them all day," she said. "You needed time with Kyle. I don't think he's thrilled about your trip to New York."

"He won't even notice I'm gone," Mulder shrugged. "Especially with camp and with Peter to play with. And it's only an overnight trip. I'm concerned about you being on your own with Will sick. I spoke to Hannah. She said to call her if you need anything."

"We knew this would happen eventually," Scully responded, brushing off his concern. "And Will's on the road to recovery. He's still a bit run down, and might need a longer nap than usual tomorrow, but I don't think he's in anymore pain."

"He looked good at dinner, " Mulder began, looking down at the bedspread. "Scully, I know you had a long day, but—"

"Time to confront my brother, huh?" Scully asked, her eyes also downcast as she concentrated on tracing circles across the duvet with her finger.

He nodded. "When he came in, he head straight to the scotch," explained Mulder, easing off the bed so Scully could get up. "So you might need to do this sooner rather than later.

"Thanks for the warning," she yawned, reaching over towards the baby monitor perched on her bedside table.

"I'm on daddy duty," Mulder clucked, snatching the monitor out of Scully's grasp. "The kids and I will be up on the deck, so you guys won't get interrupted. They wanted to play with the telescope."

"Did Charlie tell you what's going on?" Scully asked, clasping her hand over his.

Mulder could hear the sad undertones of Scully's voice. "No," he truthfully responded, shaking his head. "Do you want me to go down with you?"

"I better go alone," Scully responded in a tone that suggested the opposite. "I'd feel better knowing the kids couldn't overhear."

Before she reached the door, Mulder softly called her name. "I'll only be upstairs," he reminded her. She threw him a grateful nod, and made her way down to her brother.

XXXXX

"What happened this afternoon?" Scully asked her younger brother, who was pouring himself a finger of whiskey.

Charlie scoffed back some laughter as he spilled some Johnny Walker on the marble countertop. "Hell hath no fury, Danes," he snorted as he took his fourth shot of the evening. "Care for some?"

"No," Scully shook her head.

"You wouldn't look so disproving if you didn't want some yourself," Charlie countered, rummaging around a cabinet for a second whiskey glass before finally settling on a plastic cup. He sloppily poured two more shots, smartly settling on the shatterproof option for himself.

Scully climbed onto a stool, which gave her enough height to be eye-level with her brother. "What happened?" she repeated.

Charlie closed his eyes and stepped back, his palms face down on island. "Don't yell at me, Dana," he whined.

"Charlie, I'm not yelling," Scully quietly replied.

"You really are though," he interrupted her. "The quieter you talk, the louder your voice really is. I hate that about you. And now you aren't going to say anything. You are just going to sit and stare at me. God, you're infuriating."

"You're going to complain no matter what I do or what tone of voice I use, so cut the crap, Charlie," Scully said, her voice both rising and sharpening. "What the fuck is going on?"

"I've been remembering things," Charlie began to explain. "Which hasn't been particularly pleasant in itself. But last night, this morning really, I finally opened one of the compressed files on that zip drive. There was a video on it. No sound. It looks as though it was taken from a hidden camera, probably something that was hiding in plain sight, like on a bookshelf or a desk."

"What was the video of?"

"I don't know. Some sort of meeting. But I recognized someone on the video," continued Charlie. "It was a man who visited Dad when you were in the hospital."

Scully immediately grew rigid, and clasped the whiskey glass tightly. "Show me," she said seriously. "I'm getting Mulder."

XXXXX

Mulder knew that whatever was on that hard drive had serious implications for himself, Charlie, Scully, Frohike, Samantha and possibly the kids. It had taken everything in his power to not throttle Charlie when he had walked into the house earlier that evening. But instead, he exerted his rarely-used impulse control and stepped back from the situation. So as soon as he heard the floorboards creak behind him, he knew that his gut instinct was correct.

"Mulder," Scully softly called out as she placed a hand on his shoulder with a small squeeze.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," Mulder told the boys, who were engrossed in their stargazing.

He wordlessly followed Scully down the stairs and into the den, where Charlie was nervously waiting. "So I managed to extract this video file last night," Charlie rambled, his voice raspy. "There's no audio."

Scully drew a sharp breath when she saw who was displayed onscreen, while Mulder uttered a soft swear.

"Do you know these people?" Charlie asked, even though he already knew the answer to the question.

"In a manner of speaking," Mulder drolly answered. "Do you?"

"That man," Charlie pointed his finger at the distinguished older man who sat at the center of a long table, flanked on both sides with slightly younger, but just as well-dressed men. "He has a British accent."

"When did you meet him?" Scully asked.

"You had just come home from the hospital after the surgery. I think it was the day before you got sick again, from the infection," Charlie answered, still looking directly at the computer screen. "He came by the house to talk to Dad. They locked themselves in Dad's study for hours. There was some yelling. I hid in the living room while they were talking. I couldn't overhear much, but as he was leaving he turned to Dad, and told him that he needed to do his duty or else there would be consequences. They would take care of one thing if Dad delivered on another."

"Are you sure?"

Charlie nodded, turning to look at the others. "I'm sure."

"How is this connected to you lying during your deposition?" asked Scully.

Charlie looked down at the desk, hesitant to answer his sister's question. "They asked me if I witnessed Dad talking to any law enforcement or government officials," he said.

"Why would you think that this man was a government official?" Mulder said. "You were eleven-years-old at the time, and he had a British accent. It doesn't sound like you lied, Charlie."

"But he had introduced himself to me as being from the State Department. And since you two seem to know him, who is he really?"

Mulder and Scully looked at one other before Mulder quietly answered Charlie's question. "He's a puppet master who is beyond the reach of the law. He's part of small group of people who masterminded Scully's abduction, my sister's disappearance, and quite possibly the coverup of your brother's crime. But the real question is why they would want to risk exposing themselves after all of this time. This was either a calculated move on their part, and Bill's arrest was something that they had determined would happen way back when. Or else it was a mistake."

"Which would be the better option?" Charlie asked, a chill running up his spine.

"I don't know."

XXXXXX

Unlike his sister, Charlie had no trepidation about flying—he was out like a light as soon as he settled into his seat, and practically snored through takeoff. Of course, Mulder mused, he might just have been incredibly hung over. He wasn't sure what time his brother-in-law got to bed the previous evening—he was just was relieved for the respite from Charlie's questions. The younger man knew full well that his sister and her partner were being purposely vague as they tried to explain the identity of the so-called Well Manicured Man. Mulder had held back from referring to the cigarette-smoking son-of-a-bitch who was his biological father, and Scully had taken his lead on that front.

The situation did not sit well with Mulder at all; he didn't like any of the implications of a meeting between Captain Scully and the Well Manicured Man, and his blood ran cold when he thought about what could happen in the event that Bill's arrest was not part of the Syndicate's masterplan. The possibility that Frohike had been aware of this complicated history bothered him to no end. When he had been trying to get to sleep the night before, Scully had told him that he needed to believe that his old friend had been protecting him this whole while, and Mulder did not know whether he had the ability to do just that.

He decided to channel all of his fury onto the fact that he had to meet with Justice Department officials to walk them through a run-of-the-mill profile, taking him away from Scully and the kids. Preston had warned him that the quickest way for them to get through these meetings would be to bite his tongue, answer their questions nicely, and smile. The thought of doing just that made him scoff, but, as his lawyer had pointed out, if he didn't want to do it for himself, he should do it for his family.

Mulder smiled to himself, remembering how peaceful the boys looked when he checked in on them before heading to the airport. A quick glance at his watch reminded him that they were probably running around at full speed. Separately, they were a handful, and together, they were a force to be reckoned with; he was proud of the fact that they could make a mess in five seconds—after all, it indicated curiosity and intelligence and creativity. He just wished for everyone's sake that they didn't get into much mischief before Scully had her morning coffee.

XXXXXXXXX

"I'm going to be late!" Kyle bellowed from the kitchen.

"We'll get there in time," Scully promised, cursing under her breath. She could not find Nathan's sneakers or sandals anywhere. Normally they went into the cloth bin next to the back door; digging through the pile, she could find shoes that belonged to everyone else in the family, except for those belonging to the two-year-old.

"Do you know where your shoes are?" Scully asked Nathan, in a last-ditch effort to end her search.

"No," he flashed a charming smile, and immediately began to giggle.

That was not a good sign.

"Nathan, where are your shoes?" Scully asked with as much patience as she could muster.

"Oh, I remember now. They are in the bathroom," Peter chirped from across the room, in between spoonfuls of Cheerios.

"Can you get them, please?" Scully asked with a sigh of relief.

"No," Peter explained.

"What do you mean, 'no'?" Scully asked, trying to keep her voice in check.

"They're in the toilet. Nathan put them in there yesterday, and I forgot to tell Mulder. And I think somebody tried to use the bathroom, too," Peter explained matter-of-factly, pointing towards the small half-bath/laundry room, just off the kitchen. "So it's pretty gross."

"Of course," muttered Scully; she could feel her head beginning to pound. "Okay, kids, let's get going."

Nathan began to fidget as soon as his mother picked him up. "This is what happens when you have no shoes, buddy," she murmured into his ear. "And this means stroller time later. We're going to have to get you some new sneakers."

She got the kids strapped into car seats in record time, even managing to turn on the Sesame Street CD before anyone whined. "We'll get you there on time," Scully promised Kyle, who was sullenly moping in the passenger seat.

"You always go the slow way," Kyle responded, his frustration mounting.

"Well, what way does your dad go?" she asked.

"It doesn't matter. There isn't enough time to show you," the eleven-year-old grumbled, continuing to look out the window, his back facing her, kicking the glove compartment.

Scully rolled her eyes as she continued to make her way towards the rec center, not bothering to point out that she had allowed twenty minutes for a drive that usually took half that time. "I was thinking of tacos for dinner. How does that sound?"

"I don't care," Kyle mumbled.

She didn't try to talk to him again until they pulled into the rec center parking lot. "Have fun," she called out as he wordlessly jumped out of the car, making a beeline towards a group of boys his age.

While making her way to the parking lot exit, she spotted Jimmy in his dark blue SUV, sipping on some coffee. She slowed down slightly to give a wave, but her hesitation resulted in an impatient driver blaring a car horn. "Christ," she muttered, speeding up slightly.

As she merged onto the main drag, she debated the order of events for the day. They had a bit of time before the shops opened, but she knew that if she stopped back at home first, the chances of getting out again before picking up Kyle that afternoon would be slim-to-none. Going to the park was out of the question, giving Nathan's bare feet, and the library didn't open until late morning. Her best course of action would be to take a leisurely drive to the center of Edgartown, and hope that Nathan wouldn't make too much of a fuss about being strapped in the stroller.

Scully knew she was pushing her luck when she decided to stop for some iced coffee. "Out," Nathan whined as they waited for her order.

"Nathan, no," Scully firmly told the two-year-old.

"Out!" He repeated.

"Nathan, you're going to have to stay in the stroller until we get you new shoes," she argued.

Her second mistake of the morning was turning her back for the two seconds it took to grab her coffee from the barista. She saw a flash of dark hair from the corner of her eye, and by the time her attention was back on the stroller, Nathan had jumped out. Somehow, she managed to ditch the coffee and catch up to him before he ran out of the shop.

"No!" he cried, bursting into tears as Scully carried him back towards the stroller.

"Nathan, please," she pleaded, dreading the fact that the boy had figured out the mechanics of unbuckling himself from the stroller seat. Like his father, he was entirely too smart for his own good. And also like his father, she knew that his newly learned trick would probably result in an injury.

"Stop kicking," instructed Scully sternly. "Or time out when we get home."

"No time out," Nathan whined.

"Sit still and do not move," Scully continued in a tone that she hadn't used since going on leave from the Bureau. She had often come across situations in which parents were doing battle with their toddlers, and while sometimes she looked on with sympathy, there were others that inspired less considerate feelings. But she took Nathan's meltdown in stride, blocking out everything else and not caring what any of the other coffee shop patrons would think. She was lucky that the for the most part, the boys were pretty mellow, but she also knew that they were just barely entering the 'terrible twos' stage that most parents swore didn't really end until age four.

Her glowering look must have had an effect, as Nathan let out a small gasp, and quieted down, barely twitching as his mother strapped him back into the stroller. Despite the cessation of his squirming, Nathan's facial expression was more than reminiscent of his father's stubborn don't-tell-me-this-isn't-an-X-File pout, which she had been on the receiving end more times than she cared to admit. "Get used to it, buddy," she said as she kissed the top of his head before picking up her coffee and heading out to get their errands done.

She barely gave a glance to her surroundings, content that her son had settled down before inspiring his younger brother to join in on the fun.

XXXXX

For a kid who hated wearing shoes, Nathan became awfully attached, very quickly, to the red-and-blue velcro sandals that his mother had found at the shoe store. He even put on a display of some crocodile tears while Scully made him try on some Batman sneakers. She knew enough not to take a gamble by having Will try on anything; she knew a parenting win when she saw one. As she was paying for their purchases at the counter, Will dropped his juice bottle on the floor, pulling Scully away from the cashier. She left her wallet on the counter as she ran after the rolling tumbler, and by the time she got back, she was momentarily confused as to whether she handed over her credit card. A slightly condescending smirk from the cashier confirmed that she hadn't, prompting Scully to instinctively pulled out her Visa. Just before she handed it over, she changed her mind, instead paying with the new Amex that bore the name Dana K. Mulder. It had arrived in the mail two weeks earlier; Scully hadn't wanted it, but Mulder had prepared a litany of practical reasons as to its necessity, and now she was thankful that she had given in on that argument. She knew it bordered on paranoia, but she didn't want to use her last name in public, at least until the cable tv craze over her brother's arrest died down.

As they made their way back onto the sidewalk, Scully began to suggest that they make their way to the library, but she quickly lost her train of thought when she recognized a slightly familiar face across the street.

"Where are we going?" Peter prompted her, nearly falling over when the stroller stopped short in front of him.

Scully drew a sharp breath and began walking again, scanning her memory for who the person could be. He was fairly young—probably early 30s—and was sporting wraparound sunglasses, jeans, and a blue button-down shirt. He completely blended into the background. She knew something was off, but as her mind raced around the possibilities of where she could have encountered him, she realized that she had a very bad feeling about what was happening. She couldn't explain it—maybe it was maternal instinct, maybe it was adrenaline, but she knew that they had to get home as soon as possible.

The last thing she wanted to do was to tip off the children, but considering the fact that she was with the most intuitive boys she had ever met, she knew it would be a longshot. After Peter repeated his question, Scully said, "We need to get home so Will can have some medicine, and maybe we can play with the sprinklers this afternoon."

"Can't we go to the beach?" Peter whined.

Scully sighed. She knew that Peter had been cheated out of a lot over the past few days. "How about this, bud? Maybe we can sneak down to the water for a little bit during nap time. But we need to check to see if Hannah can help out first, okay?"

"Mulder said she would come over," Peter said with a smile, his voice filled with hope.

"But we can't presume," Scully reminded her nephew. They had made it to the municipal parking lot, and a quick look over her shoulder confirmed that the man was heading towards his own vehicle. While she struggled to get the boys into their car seats, she saw him from the corner of the rearview mirror, sitting in a blue van.

Then it hit her. The man had been driving in back of her in the rec center parking lot.

"Peter, we need to get going," Scully instructed her nephew, who was leaning against the side of the SUV. "Now. Back seat."

Peter gave his aunt a quizzical look, and scurried into the car, clambering over Will, knocking Doggy out of his hand. Scully impatiently picked up the stuffed animal and handed it back to Will before she got behind the wheel.

"Seatbelt," Scully reminded Peter.

"I know," Peter sighed. "Can't I sit in the way back?"

"It's a short ride," Scully responded. "So just stay between your cousins."

She pulled out her cellphone, scrolling to find Jimmy's pre-programmed number. She started the car and pulled around the parking lot, trying to get a look at the van's license plate number. "It's Dana Scully," she said to Jimmy. "H65D9Z."

"Where are you?" Jimmy gruffly asked.

"Edgartown, we're heading home now," she said as casually as she could muster. She turned on the Sesame Street CD, hoping it would drown down the sound of her voice.

"I'm having Frank meet you. Stay on Main Street for as long as you can," Jimmy barked. "That car was parked here this morning, and was here yesterday too."

"Sounds great," Scully continued. She looked through the rearview mirror, and sure enough, the blue van was still in back of her.

"Frank will call you in a second."

Scully clutched her phone as she disconnected, and breathed a sigh of relief when it rang thirty seconds later. After giving Frank her location, he promised to meet up with her, and gave her instructions on the best route to take home, reminding her to stay away from small side streets. She knew from her own training that the best thing to do would be to stay in an area that was well-populated; this rationality battled with her instinct to try and lose the van by meandering through the back roads. She had always kept her cool when following cars while on the job, but that didn't help her confidence, at least not with three kids in the backseat. She hoped that neither of the boys had figured out how to unbuckle themselves; rationally, she knew that even if they were able to unbuckle their lapses, they wouldn't have the dexterity to also untangle themselves from their shoulder straps.

"I'm a couple of cars behind you," Frank told Scully. "You need to speed up a bit, and then I'll try and cut in."

"But that might—"

"Don't worry about me, just pick up some speed. In a quarter of a mile, the road forks over to the right. It's kind of a sharp turn, but you should be able to do it. Just keep going, don't slow down."

"Okay," Scully mumbled, unsure of Frank's plan. She tossed the cell phone to the passenger side seat and slowly picked up some speed, and just as she feared, the van followed her lead. As she began to look for the turn, the van pulled away from her car. She breathed a sigh of relief, and chastised herself for thinking that she was being followed. But then the van slowed down, and began to drift towards the SUV. Scully realized that she was being boxed in, and unable to pick up speed for fear of losing complete control of the car, tried to slow down.

As she realized that the road was narrowing from two lanes to one, she knew that a crash was inevitable. The safest outcome for the kids would be for the brunt of the damage to be in the front of the car, so Scully did her best to minimize the impact to the rear. She was able to avoid hitting a utility pole, and instead the grille of the car crashed into a wooden fence that served as a boundary to a golf course.

Scully said a silent prayer as she heard the crunch emanate from the front of the car. She kept repeating that the boys were buckled in their seats behind her, and that she was driving one of the safest cars on the market. She knew that if anything had happened to the boys, she would never forgive herself, and she couldn't begin to fathom how Mulder would react. Mulder had trusted her with the health and safety of all three boys, and she couldn't even make it a few hours before letting him-letting them both down. What kind of parent was she? How had she, a trained law enforcement agent, not even be able to handle running simple errands?

As she gathered her thoughts, she quickly glanced to her right and became sickened from the grin emanating from the van driver.

"Did we hit something?" Peter asked, breaking her concentration.

"Yes," Scully shakily replied. "Are you okay?"

"Yup," responded the seven-year-old.

Scully turned around; Peter looked nonplussed, and it was clear his discomfort was from being wedged between two carseats. Both Nathan and Will looked safe; Will was busy chewing on Doggy, and Nathan was playing with a board book. "I need you to stay here, okay? I know it's a tight fit, but be patient," Scully told her nephew.

She waited until Frank pulled over before getting out of the SUV. "I called the cops," Frank told her. "Get back in the car, now."

Scully shuddered; before she could protest, Frank took her arm, practically dragging her into the car. "What the hell is going on?" she seethed.

As soon as she was back in the driver's seat, Frank slammed the door shut, and then walked around the car before slipping into the passenger's side seat.

"I'm sorry about that," Frank told her, his voice entirely more calm.

"He ran us off the road," Scully fiercely exploded.

"You and the kids need to stay in this car. Agent Scully, this bastard is with the press," explained Frank. "Someone tipped him off as to who you are and where you live. This is just be the beginning."


	24. Chapter Twenty Three

**A/N: Can't believe I've been doing this for almost a year! Thanks to everyone who had reviewed, and I hope you enjoy this installment. Cheers!**

What kept her calm as she waited for the cops to show up, was that for once, the boys seemed to be completely oblivious to their surroundings. Scully knew that it would only be a matter of time before they would get bored, but for now, they were happily occupying themselves with the juice and Cheerios she had packed in the diaper bag. She thought that they might even have a chance of escaping another toddler meltdown as long as the car (and therefore the music and the air conditioning) was running.

Before she could ask Frank how he knew that the other driver was a member of the press, he jumped out of the vehicle, making a beeline towards the van. Scully wished she could make out their conversation, but all she could see was Frank's imposing figure hovering above that of the driver. She could faintly make out the sound of sirens in the distance.

After hearing Nathan calling for her, Scully turned around in her seat. "What do you need, monkey?"

Immediately, Nathan's face scrunched up.

"What's wrong, sweetie?"

"Your nose is bleeding," Peter responded, pointing towards her face. Scully whipped around, catching a glimpse of herself in the rearview mirror. Sure enough, ribbons of blood of were pouring out of her nose. She rummaged through the diaper bag, finally finding a crushed pack of Kleenex. "I'm okay, monkey," Scully tried to reassure her son, keeping her voice as light as she could. She kept talking to Nathan, managing to stop the flow other nosebleed so that she could look at him with a clean face. He broke out into a grin upon realizing that his mother was okay.

As soon as she felt another trickle in her nose, Scully turned away from the children, hoping that she had another stash of tissues somewhere in the car. She settled on a napkin that looked somewhat clean, and knowing it wouldn't last, began rifling through the glove compartment. She was so absorbed in her task that at first she didn't notice the knocks on the driver's side window. She eased back into her seat to try and open the door, but it wouldn't budge. She held up her hands, pointing to the passenger's side door.

"Dana Mulder?"

One of the uniformed officers slid into the car. "I'm Sergeant Ben Cates," he introduced himself. "Frank's filled me in. My partner just stashed the suspect in our car. We want to take you to the hospital."

"I'm a medical doctor. I don't need any attention," Scully protested, momentarily dazed by being hearing herself being addressed by Mulder's last name.

"It looks as though you hit the steering wheel kind of hard there, ma'am," Cates said, sliding his sunglasses on top of his close-cropped hair.

"It's just a nosebleed," Scully said. "I'm fine."

"Your shoulder, ma'am," Cates pointed to her side. "That's going to be a hell of a nasty bruise."

Scully looked down at her left arm. Sure enough, it was beginning to swell, and Scully knew that the pain probably wouldn't kick in for another couple of hours. "I'm not leaving my children," she told the officer. "My youngest son needs medication. Let me get them home and settled, and then I'll see whether this warrants medical attention."

"Ma'am—" Cates began.

"My name is Dana," she snapped, knowing that any kind of credibility she normally would have in such a situation was negated by her injuries. "And I need to get my children home."

"And it's protocol for—" Cates argued, before being interrupted by wailing emanating from the backseat.

Scully suppressed a smile; from the look of confusion spread across his face, it was obvious that the police officer had minimal experience with small children. "It's almost lunch time, they're sick, we need to get home," she repeated firmly.

XXXXXX

The sight of a gruff Frank and frustrated Cates trying to install carseats in the back of Frank's SUV would have amused Scully on a normal day; instead, she was too distracted, busy examining the boys for any signs of injury. "I told you, I'm not hurt," Peter stubbornly protested, squirming away from his aunt. "You checked my head three times already."

"Get in the car, kiddo," Frank grumbled, giving Peter enough encouragement to practically throw himself towards the vehicle.

"What the hell is going on?" Scully hissed. "How do you know who that guy is?"

"I'll explain on the way," mumbled Frank. "Take this cell phone and hit speed dial number one—you're going to get Preston's partner. Hand it over to Cates once he answers."

Scully grasped the heavy piece of plastic that slipped into her hand; Frank's large frame would have prevented Cates from observing the exchange. Scully flipped open the phone quickly, dialing one as she turned around. "Dana?"

An unfamiliar voice answered the phone. "It's me," she answered, her voice shaky.

"I'm Preston's partner. Do everything Frank tells you to; a doctor is going to meet you at your home this afternoon. Just give the phone to the police officer now, and we'll be in touch shortly."

A million questions flew through Scully's head. She called over the officer and handed the phone over to him. "My attorney," she explained.

Cates was obviously frustrated, not getting much of a word in throughout his conversation. He sighed heavily as he handed the phone back to Scully. "Get your kids home, and we'll come by later to get your statement," Cates said, obviously not happy about the instructions.

XXXXXX

True to his word, Frank began talking once they were settled in his car. "Jimmy ran the van's plates this morning; they traced back to a local news station. We're getting more information on the driver now. The van's been at the rec center parking lot the past couple of days—that's how we know that someone must have tipped them off."

"Is Kyle safe?" Scully asked, frantic that she hadn't asked that question earlier. She felt her stomach drop; being followed herself was one thing; knowing that someone had been staking out her stepson's day camp was quite another. "Let's get him now."

"The safest thing to do is to get you home first. Jimmy is watching over Kyle now; I'll meet him over there, then we can block both entrances. Just as an extra precaution. Call the camp, let him know that I'm picking him up. I'm listed as Mulder's cousin on the emergency contact form."

Scully nervously followed Frank's instructions, letting the camp counselor who answered know that Kyle would be picked up in the next half-hour for a dental appointment. Thankfully, the counselor was chipper and cheerful, and didn't ask any questions. As she ended the call, Scully wished she was able to think more clearly. Had she been followed the day before? Hadn't she had paid cash for the groceries the previous afternoon, or had she used her debit card instead?

She didn't break away from her thoughts until she felt a shooting pain move down her left arm. "Sorry," Frank said. "I thought you might have fallen asleep there."

Scully looked around, realizing that they had pulled into the garage. She hadn't even remembered closing her eyes. "Sorry, you just startled me," Scully apologized, trying to swallow the pain.

"I just asked if you wanted me to carry him in," Frank repeated, pointing to a sleeping Nathan in the backseat.

"Thanks," Scully nodded. Judging by the pain in her shoulder, she wouldn't be able to pick either kid up from the carseat. "If you could unstrap Will, too, that would be great."

"Of course," Frank said, politely ignoring any mention of her injury.

"Peter, can you do me a favor?" Scully asked her nephew, who immediately perked up. She stepped out of the car and gingerly set the diaper bag on her good shoulder, along with the bag from the shoe store. "Can you please go to Hannah, and ask her if she wants to spend the afternoon with us?"

"Yup!" Peter smiled.

"Thanks," Scully answered as she took Will's hand; she would be able to watch Peter the entire time from the kitchen. "And can you bring these two bags inside? Put them on the kitchen table. You're a big help."

"Where do you want me to put this little guy?" Frank asked as he followed her into the house, a sleeping Nathan slung over his shoulder.

"You can try the living room couch, if you can find it," Scully suggested. "You'll see what I mean once you get in there."

"Interesting interior decoration," Frank dryly said as he walked back into the kitchen. "Looks like Mulder's handiwork. Let's get Kyle home to you. Jimmy's there, Agent Scully. I wouldn't have left the boy if I thought there was any real danger."

"I know," Scully nodded, watching Peter and Hannah on the lawn. "Thank you."

XXXXX

Within minutes of his arrival that morning, Kyle had decided he did in fact like camp. When dividing into teams earlier that day, he had been the first one picked. In fact, he had been the leading scorer in all of the drills. Even though the coaches had told the campers that no one was keeping score, everyone really was doing just that. He had even asked a few kids who he ate lunch with whether they would be interested in going to his house that weekend, and was pleased to see that they all seemed more excited about the idea.

"Kyle? Your cousin is here to pick you up for your dentist appointment," Tony, one of the coaches announced as he approached the picnic table where they were sitting.

"I don't have a dentist appointment," Kyle immediately responded. Looking up, he saw Frank at the gym doorway, and he suddenly knew that something wasn't right. His mind raced as he wondered what the bad news could be. What if his father was in an accident? What if his plane had crashed?

"Your stepmom called and said she forgot to remind you," shrugged Tony. "So it looks like we'll see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow," mumbled Kyle, waving to his teammates before making his way towards Frank.

"Just follow me," Frank said to Kyle, giving a wave of his own to Tony as he led him back into the building. "Jimmy's waiting for you right outside the service entrance. Just walk straight to the car, get in, and don't stop."

"Is everything okay?" Kyle asked. "Is it my dad?"

"Your old man is just fine," responded Frank. "Keep up. Smile. Don't look around."

Kyle followed Frank through the gym, into the small kitchen area, and down a ramp used for deliveries. He jumped into Jimmy's SUV, and the wheels screeched as they exited the parking lot. "No comments on my driving skills," Jimmy smiled.

"What's wrong?" Kyle demanded; he knew that Jimmy would give him more information than Frank.

"Agent Scully was in a car accident earlier today. She wants you home, bud, that's all," Jimmy casually explained, offering Kyle some potato chips.

"But I have camp," Kyle protested.

"I just do what I'm told, and I suggest that you do the same," Jimmy explained, adjusting his blue-tinted sunglasses.

"But what did Dad say?"

"I don't know. I just do what Frank tells me to do. Following directions is really important, especially when the other guy is an ex-boxer who weighs at least 250 pounds."

Normally, Kyle would have cracked a smile at that kind of comment, but not then. "Hey, at least you don't actually have a dentist appointment," Jimmy pointed out.

"She ruins everything," Kyle muttered, throwing his backpack to the floor. "It's not fair."

XXXXX

Scully was appreciative of Hannah's patience; the older woman gaped when she saw her injuries, but held off from asking any questions until Peter ran upstairs, excited to have received permission to watch television in the master bedroom. "How much pain are you really in?" Hannah asked Scully once she had finished, noticing the red head wince as she secured Will into his high chair.

"I've had a lot worse," Scully promised. "I'll take some ibuprofen after I eat. A doctor is supposed to stop by this afternoon, but there's not that much that can be done for a muscle injury."

"Lie down for a bit at least," suggested Hannah

"I need to make sure that Kyle's okay first," Scully responded, turning her attention to the peanut butter sandwich she was fixing Will for lunch. "And I need to get a hold of Mulder."

She knew that her partner would never forgive her if something happened to Kyle, just as she knew that she would never forgive herself. Once again, his phone went straight to voicemail, and she knew that leaving a third message of "call me as soon as you get this" wouldn't make him return the call any sooner. She barely allowed herself to breathe before Kyle walked through the kitchen door, clearly unhappy. "Thank God," Scully whispered, enfolding Kyle into a hug.

"I'm not a baby," Kyle muttered, wiggling away from his stepmother, not noticing her wince as he bumped her left shoulder as he pushed her away.

"I just needed to know you're safe," Scully apologized, unsure of what to exactly tell him about their accident.

"Just because something happens to you doesn't mean that I'm not okay," Kyle stomped up the stairs. "You're even more paranoid than Dad. He wouldn't have made me leave camp early."

Scully exchanged a worried glance with Hannah, but before she could say anything, the phone rang and Nathan cried out from the living room simultaneously.

XXXXX

As loathe as he had been to leave Scully and the boys on the Vineyard, Mulder had to admit that a small part of him was excited about being on the job again, at least for the day. Back in 1992, he had gotten the X-Files opened due to his outstanding profiling work with violent crimes. He had solved the unsolvable cases, and when it became apparent that he was quickly approaching the point of burn out, the Bureau wanted to do whatever it took to keep Spooky Mulder in-house. With his father's State Department pedigree, and his close ties with Senator Mathison, Mulder had the leverage he needed to pursue his own work, with the understanding that he would be required to profile from time-to-time.

But, deep down, it thrilled Mulder to no end that he had skills no one else had. And being the wise-ass that he was, he enjoyed rubbing it in the brass' face.

Like now.

During the trip from JFK to the Federal building in lower Manhattan, Mulder had been moody, ignoring Charlie's questions about Marita, only responding to the other man when he suggested that they meet up later for their evening rendezvous with his contact at a bar Charlie frequented when in the city. Preston, knowing how grouchy he could be during any sort of meeting with bureaucrats, had pressed coffee into his hand as soon as he slid out of the cab. "Don't make this harder than it has to be, Mulder," his lawyer had told him as they waited in the security line, flashing their IDs as they waited for their visitor badges. "Keep your answers short, and don't give into the temptation to over explain. If they even sense that you don't want to be there, they'll do whatever they can to make this meeting as long as possible."

Mulder could recite Preston's speech by heart, and knew that he was hearing it again because he always ended doing the exact opposite of what his attorney advised. He had to commend Preston for not dumping him as a client; or at the very least, not insisting that one of his two associates accompany him to the meeting instead. "If I tell you to stop talking, just shut the hell up, okay?" Preston bluntly said to him as they entered a nondescript conference room on the sixth floor, tapping him on the shoulder. "And by no means should you ask why you were put on this case. Leave it to me to ask those questions."

Within the first ten minutes of the meeting, he wanted to start the sarcasm, but a pointed look from Preston kept him from talking, and instead, he alleviated his frustration by bending his pen in such an angle that if it were to snap, ink would spray over the bozos from Justice. He mustered enough politeness to be objectively considered civil, even when he was asked to repeat himself multiple times. As the clock ticked towards noon, Mulder thought that they were actually making some progress. In fact, one of the younger staffers, Andy Dearborn, had proven to be a quick study, and Mulder had to admit that he had posed some of the more intelligent questions he had ever been asked about any of his profiles.

After the group broke for lunch, Preston warned Mulder to be on his best behavior while he called into his office. Mulder slid his phone out of his suit pocket, remembering that he had left the charger in the carryon bag that he has given Charlie to take to their hotel. As he turned the phone on, Dearborn shyly approached him with a small waver. "Agent Mulder, if you don't mind, I just wanted to talk to you for a few minutes."

"Sure," Mulder responded, surprised.

"I'm a fan, actually," Dearbon bashfully began. "I mean, I've read up on you, since I was assigned to this case a couple of months ago. I was able to requisition some of your case files, and, well, I'm actually based out of DC, and was hoping that maybe when you're back from leave, we could get a drink or something. Or if you have some time during your trip."

Mulder was taken aback, both by Dearborn's sincerity and nervousness. "I have to leave right after this meeting wraps up," Mulder explained. "I'd be happy to speak with you when I'm back in DC this fall. Let me give you my personal email address though—I'm happy to answer any questions I can in the meantime. I might not respond right away—my kids are keeping me pretty busy."

"You have kids?" Dearborn asked earnestly. "That must be a lot of fun."

Mulder nearly did a double take. "It is," he smiled as he jotted down his contact information on the back of a business card he found tucked away in his wallet. "They're a handful, but we manage."

As Preston approached them, Dearborn ducked away, thanking Mulder profusely. "Have you checked your messages?"

"No, why?" Mulder asked, slowly registering the look on Preston's face as his breathing became more labored. "What happened?"

"Everyone is okay," Preston began, motioning for Mulder to lower his voice. "Dana was in a car accident. She was being followed by a journalist, and the idiot tried to box her in. No one is hurt, Frank is taking care of things."

"The kids were home?"

"They were in the backseat, they are fine, not a scratch on them," Preston promised. "Call her, I'll try and stall them for a few more minutes."

"Shit." Mulder lunged for his phone, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Scully? What's going on?"

"Fox," Hannah sighed. "Sorry, the phone woke somebody up. It's a little hectic here."

"He's okay, though, right, Hannah?"

"The boys are fine. Master William here has inherited your appetite. I think he's on his second peanut butter sandwich. I know you want to speak to Dana, so I'll put her on now."

"Thanks, Hannah," he could hear Scully's voice in the background, as well as Nathan's sniffles.

Mulder felt his heart thump through his chest as he waited for Scully to get to the phone. _Please say you're fine, please say you're fine_ he chanted in his mind, feeling far removed from himself as he asked her whether she was alright.

"I'm fine," she quietly responded. "The car isn't, but we're all safe."

Mulder expelled a huge breath. "I don't care about the fucking car. I'm coming home as soon as I can."

"Finish what you need to, Mulder," Scully explained. "It'll be harder for you, for everyone, if you just need to rush back again."

"Mulder, the kids were in their carseats. They didn't feel anything beyond what happens when you decide to stop the stroller short."

"How do you know about that?" Mulder joked, aware that he was choked up.

"It may be that my back is turned when you do that, but I know exactly what's going on," Scully let out a small laugh. "They love it though."

"You just had to outdo me, huh? That competitive streak of yours, Scully," he teased. "You never know when it's going to raise its ugly head."

"Hardly," Scully snorted. "Those car seats certainly did their job."

"What exactly happened?" Mulder asked, ignoring the Justice department staffer who pointed to his watch as he bustled into the conference room, files in hand.

"I realized I was being followed, and I called Frank. He was meeting up with me when the van started driving erratically. We were boxed in, and I managed to drive onto the golf course."

"It sounds like the best possible outcome," Mulder breathed out, wondering what was really happening on the Vineyard.

"It was. I—I made the call to pull Kyle out of camp. He isn't too happy," Scully explained.

"It's the right call to make, Scull," agreed Mulder, looking up to see Preston at the conference room doorway; unfortunately, he would have to wrap up their conversation. "I'll talk to him. Just stay at the house until we figure out who this guy is. I'll call you when I can."

"I know, Mulder," Preston sighed as his client walked towards him. "It'll be better for everyone if we just wrap this up as soon as we can. No mention of the car accident to these guys, okay? We don't want them to try and drag out your involvement with this case any more than they have to."

Mulder nodded grimly, playing with this tie. "Let's get this over with."

XXXXX

Scully sleep walked through the afternoon, barely registering a reaction when Frank showed up with the pediatrician who had seen Will a few days earlier. Dr. Porter was an older man, who cheerfully checked over the three boys, confirming that they were unharmed. He even checked Will's ears, proclaiming that they were clearing up nicely, something that she already knew from having examined them three times a day. Still, she managed to thank him with a smile.

"Don't think you're getting out of this," Dr. Porter wagged his finger in her direction.

"I'll have some bruising, but there isn't anything that can be done about that," Scully sighed as he inspected her shoulder.

"There's quite a bit of swelling. Do you need pain medication?"

"No," Scully firmly responded. Although she had been biting back the pangs that been radiating down her arm, she refused to take narcotics while being the only parent in the household. Her greatest fear was not having the ability to appropriately respond to an emergency, or even to one of the cries of the children. She might be persuaded to take something stronger than ibuprofen when Mulder returned, but she couldn't think that far in advance.

"I would like to get this X-rayed," Dr. Porter told her. "I'm guessing you won't do that until your husband returns. Otherwise I wouldn't be making this house call."

"It won't be necessarily," Scully told him, her voice tight.

"Would you consider wearing a sling?" Dr. Porter asked.

Scully sighed. "I don't know, maybe," she said, completely drained of any fight that might have been left in her.

"I'm returning tomorrow," Dr. Porter sighed, obviously frustrated with his patient. "I'll be bringing with me a sling and tylenol with codeine. Feel free to call my office if there is anything you want me to add to that list."

"Thank you for coming out here. I—I really do feel better now that someone else has checked over my sons and nephew," Scully explained. "I'm sorry if I seem—"

"Like you were just hit with a truck?" Dr. Porter offered wryly. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Scully felt nauseous. She knew that Dr. Porter had offered the comment in jest, but his plain words washed over her like cold water. Even though the boys were (miraculously) fine, the evidence lay with her and the sorry state of the car—they were in an accident.

And it was her fault. She had been the one driving. She had made the call to alert Frank, when she could have gone straight home. She didn't make the turn that she was supposed to—it was no matter that it had been unintentional on her part. She hadn't thought to not use her new credit card until that morning; how many purchases had she made over the past week with her debit card, and not cash? Had she carelessly left her wallet on other shop counters, at the grocery store check out, while she was distracted? It was her brother's decisions, her parents' decisions that had all led to this episode.

She willed the meager contents of her stomach to stay down, knowing she wouldn't otherwise make it to the upstairs bathroom in time.

"Dana, why don't you lie down now?"

Scully jerked her head up, vaguely aware of Hannah at the kitchen doorway.

"Peter, help Hannah out, okay? And see if Kyle wants to join you if he doesn't come down from his room, okay?" Scully called out to the living room. "Thank you."

"I'll wake you up if Fox calls," Hannah promised, even though both women knew that Scully would probably not be sleeping.

"I won't be up long," Scully insisted, ignoring Hannah's protests.

It took her longer than she liked to scale the staircase. Before dragging herself to the master bedroom, Scully turned to the right, knocking on Kyle's door.

"Kyle?" she called out. "Can we talk, just for a few seconds?"

She heard stomping through the closed door, which Kyle opened a slither before slamming closed. "Those were a few seconds!"

She rubbed her temples. It was as much as she was going to get.

"I'm sorry that I had to pull you out of camp, but it was an emergency."

Silence. She wasn't going to give up, at least not just yet.

"Kyle? I was afraid that you were going to get hurt. That's why I had Frank and Jimmy bring you home. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Go away!"

Scully grimaced. After she braced the door for a moment, she sadly shuffled towards the master bedroom.

XXXXX

Kyle waited until he heard the faint sounds of a door click close down the hall before he emerged from his bed, where he had been lying face down. Hot tears pricked his eyes as he thought about how unfair everything had been over the past few days. His father had promised him that he could attend camp, and he was even starting to make some new friends.

He wiped his face with his pillow, and stood up. He didn't really feel like going downstairs and dealing with his brothers, but it was better than having to talk to Dana. He wandered downstairs, grateful to see that the kitchen was empty. He tiptoed past the doorway to the living room, and pulled some Gatorade out of the fridge. He took a few swigs before putting it back, getting some satisfaction for knowing that infraction would bother his stepmother to no end.

As soon as he closed the fridge, he heard Hannah call him into the living room. As Kyle approached the doorway, he grudgingly admitted to himself that his brothers had done an impressive job of trashing the living room. The portion of the fort that had blocked the television had been dismantled, and he saw that a Disney singalong video was running. "I haven't seen you all week, Kyle. Tell me about camp," Hannah smiled from her perch on the easy chair.

Kyle barely got started before he was interrupted by Nathan toddling over to Hannah, babbling and pointing to the television. Kyle groaned, flopping over onto the floor, prompting Will to crawl towards him. "Stop it," he sneered, redirecting his brother to a pile of blocks. A glance in Hannah's direction confirmed that she was fully occupied with Nathan's nonsensical blathering.

Peter, who was sprawled on the couch with a book, took advantage of the lull in conversation to give Kyle a full report about that morning's events. "So you didn't even realize it was a car crash?" Kyle scoffed.

Peter shrugged. "Not really," he explained, slightly disappointed that Kyle hadn't seemed too interested in his recounting of the incident. "Do you want to play a game?"

"Not really. But you can play with my Gameboy. Its up in my room," Kyle told him, hoping that the younger boy would take his time.

Kyle glanced over at Hannah, who was still conversing with Nathan. On one side of a mound of bedding that up until that afternoon had been one of the ceilings of the tent, away from Hannah's line of sight, were Nathan's pile of trains. Kyle bent over quickly, wedging Thomas in a pocket of his cargo shorts. He wasn't sure why he felt like he had to do it; for some reason, taking the toy away was an instinct upon which he had to act.

He wandered back into the kitchen, expecting Peter to thump down the stairs momentarily. Instead, the door to the garage opened, and Frank appeared. "Go find your stepmother," he instructed Kyle. "The cops need to speak with her."

"I'm up," Dana tiredly called out, emerging from the second floor. "Can you please help Hannah with your brothers?"

Kyle flinched and wordlessly headed towards the living room, changing his mind at the last moment, instead slipping into his father's den, closing the door just enough that he was blocked from view, but still able to hear any conversation from the kitchen. He just hoped that Dana wouldn't bring everyone outside, or into the rarely used dining room, away from his line of hearing.

XXXXX

"Agent Scully," Cates stuck out his hand as he entered the house. "Thank you for speaking with us."

"Thanks for coming here," Scully blandly returned the greeting, before offering water and lemonade. Although she was normally not superstitious, there was something about the way Cates had looked at her when he initially walked into the room that unsettled her.

For ten minutes she answered Cates' questions, sometimes glancing over at Franks' direction, sometimes pausing when she heard a louder-than-normal yell emanate from the living room. As Cates put down his pencil and pushed his notebook toward the center of the table, Scully knew he was preparing himself for the more difficult part of their conversation. They looked straight at each other for a moment, Cates unable to hold her gaze. "I have an update for you on the identity of the other driver," he began.

Scully moved forward, and when her elbow hit the table, she ignored the rush of pain that spread through her left arm.

"His name is Rick Waldron," Cates took a sip of lemonade before continuing. "Does that name sound familiar?"

Scully shook her head. "Vaguely," she shrugged.

"He says he is the kid brother of Vic Waldron, a friend of your bother Bill."

She immediately felt unsettled. "And?"

"He's a journalist affiliated with a news station in DC. He's working on an in-depth profile of your brother, and when speaking with your mother recently, she told him that you were here. I asked him whether he had tried contacting you by phone or email, and he said no, that your mother indicated your estrangement from the family, and that he would need to speak with you in person," Cates explained, flipping through his notebook.

Scully managed not to break her stone-faced stare as Cates delivered his news. "How long has he been on the Vineyard?"

"Four days," Cates said. "He's being arraigned tomorrow morning, and we're assuming that he is going to make bail. From what he told me, your family has been shopping around their story. We're setting up a road block on this street for the next couple of days, to prevent any more incidents like what occurred this morning. We're telling people that there is some utility work that is being done, and only residents will be able to access this part of the road. We would like you and your children and husband to keep a low profile."

"So we're essentially confined to the house?"

"With all due respect, ma'am, most people would be thrilled to be under house arrest in an estate with its own private beach," Cates scoffed. As soon as he looked up at Scully's icy glare, he knew that he had overstepped his bounds.

"We have an eleven-year-old who is enrolled in camp, we have to go to the grocery store, run errands," Scully rambled.

"This is a matter of public safety," Cates gruffly told her, standing up. "You're trained in defensive driving, and most everyone else here isn't. That accident this morning could have been a hell of a lot worse if you had been an inch to your left or to your right. Can you imagine the trauma if another vehicle had been there?"

Scully sat back in her chair as Frank escorted Cates out of the house. Although she didn't appreciate Cates' blame-the-victim approach, she knew that he was right about putting public safety first.

A piercing scream shattered the silence of the house. She got up as fast as she could to get to the living room, where Nathan was wailing. "What's wrong, monkey?" Scully asked her son, kneeling down on the floor. "Are you hurt?"

"Thomas!" Nathan sobbed, repeating himself.

"We can't seem to find Thomas the Tank Engine," Hannah explained.

"We have Woofy," Scully offered, leaning over to grab the stuffed dog, tickling Nathan's chin with its ears, something which normally made him giggle.

"NO!" Nathan hiccuped.

Scully looked around the room; it was as messy as she had ever seen it, and she wasn't surprised that something was lost. "We have Percy and Henry and—"

"You know, maybe Kyle can help find Thomas," Hannah said, getting up off the floor.

Kyle, who by this time had snuck back into the kitchen, groaned once heard Hannah's voice—he had never gotten away with anything while in her presence, even when he was a little kid. At least she hadn't caught him in the den while Dana was speaking with the police officer. He instinctively reached into his pocket, feeling the heft of the plastic toy. As he thought about the pros and cons of confessing his crime, Hannah appeared at the doorway.

"I know you took the toy," she softly said, motioning for them to sit down at the dining room table. "Why?"

Kyle shrugged.

"I think this has been a bad day for everyone," Hannah continued, her voice kind. "And I know that you haven't had it too easy lately. But taking a baby's toy isn't going to help anyone."

"Are you going to tell Dana?"

"No," Hannah decided after a few seconds. "But that's just because I think that you're going to yourself."

"What if I don't?"

"It's your conscience, not mine, Kyle," Hannah offered. "You're old enough to make these decisions yourself. Your father taught you right from wrong. People don't always get it right all the time, but it's up to you, not me. I'm going to start dinner now. You can help me if you want."

A flood of relief washed over Kyle when he realized that Hannah wouldn't tell on him. She had convinced him enough to return the toy, but he wouldn't say he had taken it. Upon making that compromise with himself, Kyle told Hannah that he would be back in a second. He entered the living room, trying to ignore Nathan's cries. One glance at Will made Kyle realize that he was on the verge of tears himself. "What's going on?" he asked innocently.

Dana looked up from her task of peeking under some of the blankets that were strewn across the floor. "We can't find Thomas the Tank Engine," she explained with a sigh as she rubbed her shoulder.

"I can help," offered Kyle. He propped up some pillows on the floor, crouching down low before pulling the toy out of his pocket. He then pretended to search for the toy, and after quickly sticking his arm under the couch, he announced he found something.

"Nathan, look what Kyle found!" Scully said in as much of an animated voice as she could muster.

"Thomas!" yelled Nathan, reaching for the blue train.

"Can you give your big brother a hug?" Scully asked Nathan as he toddled away from her. Nathan dutifully clung onto his brother for a moment, grasping onto the train with all of his might.

"Thank you," Scully gave her stepson a smile. She hoped this was a sign that he was turning a corner.

"Whatever," Kyle shrugged as he made his way back to Hannah in the kitchen, not giving a second glance at his brothers or stepmother.

XXXXX

The tension in the room was so thick, it could have been cut with a knife. Scully thought that Kyle might have defrosted a bit, but the eleven-year-old was sullen, ignoring all attempts to be drawn into conversation. When Mulder called, he practically ripped the phone from Scully's hand before running upstairs to his room, his face glued to the handset.

Hannah insisted on helping Scully bathe the boys, and the younger woman was grateful that there was no mention of her swollen arm. After sending Peter back downstairs to help Hannah clean up dinner, Scully climbed up on Nathan's small bed with both boys, settling them down to read a bedtime story. They were both out like a light, and after she tucked them in and closed the door, she ran into Kyle in the hallway."

"I hate you," Kyle yelled, throwing the phone in her direction. "Why do you think Dad's not coming back until tomorrow? And why your mom ratted out on you? It's because you ruin everything! Nobody wants to be around you."

Kyle slammed his bedroom door shut, leaving Scully dazed in the hallway. She swallowed hard, ignoring the impulse of saying out loud that he had just articulated her greatest fear.

XXXXX

"Can I tell you a secret, Mulder?" Charlie asked, his voice swaying.

Mulder sighed. He had developed a headache after finally getting off the phone with Kyle. His son was clearly not happy about anything, most especially the fact that he wouldn't be going to camp the next day. He was beyond furious to learn that Scully—and by extension their entire family—was exposed by her own mother's doing, angering him to know end. In fact, it was that nugget of information that drove Charlie to order another two shots of bourbon, something that he knew he would regret in the morning.

"I don't know, Charlie," he began. "Let me be clear on this one point. I don't keep secrets from your sister."

Charlie snorted before muttering, "You're no fun." After another swig of beer he continued, "You don't have to babysit me, you know. I'm a big boy."

"That hasn't been determined yet," Mulder muttered, throwing back his shot. He wanted to be home, with his family, not stuck in New York due to a rendezvous with Marita Covarrubias. The clink of glass hit the table just as a blonde figure dressed in black slid into the table next to him.

"Fuck me," Charlie mumbled, clearly not realizing that he was speaking aloud.

"So you decided not to stand me up this time," Marita icily said, her voice practically purring.

"I'm coming to learn that I in fact decide very little around here," Mulder rejoined. "But one thing I have discovered is that the three of us have a mutual friend."

Marita gave him a pointed look. "So?"

"I was thinking we could play some give-and-take. You show me yours, I'll show you mine, he'll show you his. Metaphorically, of course."

"I understand you have a hard drive in your possession," Marita drawled.

"It has some interesting files," Charlie managed to choke out, clearly intimidated by the blonde in his presence. Mulder inwardly groaned. He should have thought to have warned Charlie to keep absolutely silent for as long as possible.

"Doesn't it?" she flashed Charlie a bored smile.

"What's your favorite part?" Charlie asked her.

Mulder kicked him under the table.

"I'm not a fan of silent movies," Marita hinted with a slightly saucy tone. "And your favorite part? I'm asking to just be polite, mind you."

"What does my father have to do with this?"

"Usually that's his question," Marita chirped. "Are you asking for you, or are you asking for him?"

"For me," Charlie managed to choke out, mesmerized by Marita.

"There's a hidden audio file that you need to extract," Marita drawled, staring at Charlie. "I think you might find a cure for your curiosity. Or at least an antidote."

She moved to get out of the table. "There are no immediate concerns over the Swiss files," Marita said, throwing Mulder a look. "But in order to keep current on the account, you need to show up at our meetings."

She looked over at Charlie before continuing. "You're just like your father," she smiled at him. "From what I understand, he had a thing for blondes too."

Mulder waited a few moments before Marita exited out the back door of the bar before ushering Charlie through the front. "Damn," Charlie spat once they were in the open air, walking west towards their hotel. "Please tell me you tapped that."

"Fuck you," Mulder yelled. "You think this all fun and games, Charlie? James Bond shit?"

Charlie's face grew ashen, and he stopped walking. "What am I supposed to think? You don't tell me anything."

Mulder pushed his brother-in-law against a brick building. "Find the fucking file on that god damn hard drive," seethed Mulder. "Everything she said in that bar means something."

Fed up, Mulder left Charlie standing at the corner of 89th and Lex, and walked briskly south. He debated going back to the hotel, but decided that he needed to get home to the Vineyard instead. There was no need to go back to the Federal building the next morning, and he had thought that he and Charlie would be working into the night to follow-up on whatever hints of information that Marita would have left them. He hailed a cab to JFK, hoping that he would make it to the airport in time to catch a flight that would bring him any closer to the Vineyard.

XXXXX

Mulder was pleased that the roadblock was in fact set up; he recognized the cop on duty as someone he used to play baseball with as a kid. He was stopped again at the bottom of the driveway, and was thankful to see that Jimmy had set up shop as well. He quietly made his way to the second floor, nearly knocking into the baby gate at the top of the stairs. He saw a dim light filter through the bottom of the master bedroom door, and as soon as he entered, he hard the water running. "It's me," he called out softly, not wanting to scare Scully unnecessarily.

"In here," he heard her faintly call back.

He quickly stripped and entered the shower sidling up behind her, pressing his lips to her right shoulder. "I thought you were meeting your contact," Scully murmured, turning around. She had never told Mulder about her observation that he tended to get horny after these covert meetings.

"I ditched your brother," Mulder shrugged. "I wanted to be home," he continued before gasping. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Scully followed his line of sight to her injured shoulder. "Can't do much about it," she sighed. "It doesn't hurt too much."

Bullshit, thought Mulder, as he took her loofah from her.

"We haven't done this in a while," he said, as he lazily soaped her back.

"Not since our first week here, I think," she agreed, grateful that he had dropped the subject of her injury. She knew that this would only be a brief respite from that particular conversation, but she was going to take whatever she could get. She knew how to distract Mulder, and a small nip to his clavicle did the trick.

"Can you do this?" Mulder asked.

"I am doing it," Scully bantered as she placed an open-mouthed kiss on his shoulder blade.

"Fuck," Mulder breathed, returning the favor by softly biting down on her neck, dropping the sponge as Scully managed to turn off the water. He managed to grab one of the terrycloth towels above the sink, wrapping one around her, rubbing it up and down the length of her body before quickly grabbing another to do the same to himself.

He eased himself on the bed, tugging Scully on to his lap, facing him. "Is this okay," he asked her, gingerly examining her left arm.

"Let me lie down," she softly protested.

"I can't promise to be gentle," Mulder said. "Not if you're like that."

"I'm not asking you for gentle," she whispered into his ear. "I need you, Mulder. Hard. Make me forget. Make us both forget."

That was all he needed to hear. Within seconds he had flipped her onto her back, hovering over her. "Your shoulder," he murmured as one last warning."

"Doesn't matter," Scully heavily breathed, pulling him down by his neck, anticipating the sensation of his entry. It was her favorite part of making love to him.

And for the rest of the night, they were able to forget.


	25. Chapter Twenty Four

Both of them were up even before William's early morning babbles could be heard over the baby monitor. Unable to sleep on her side due to her shoulder injury, Scully had used Mulder as a human pillow, propping her left arm over his stomach, her head nestled in the crook of his arm, her cheek on his chest. Flat on his back, Mulder could sense the change in her breathing as soon as she stirred. "Please take some pain medication," asked Mulder, smoothing down her hair.

"The doctor's supposed to come back with some pills," she told him. "I can ignore the pain at this point. I just can't stop thinking."

"About what?" Mulder asked tentatively. An early morning, pre-caffeinated Scully was usually her least guarded self—followed by slightly inebriated Scully and post-coital Scully. While a few drinks would get him to hear some embarrassing college and med school stories, and sex would sometimes lead to deep conversations about love and their relationship, it was during the pre-dawn hours that Scully was the most forthcoming about her general innermost thoughts.

They had so much to discuss, and mostly on difficult subject matter, that Mulder was relieved to find an inroad to at least starting one conversation.

"Everything," Scully slowly answered, her fingers lazily drawing circles on Mulder's side. "But mostly Kyle. He's hurting, Mulder."

"Judging by what he told me over the phone, it doesn't sound like he was too easy to deal with yesterday. But that's how kids are. They have bad days."

"I think it's different than that. He said…I know he overheard the conversation I had with the police, and I didn't know what to do. Or how to handle it. He just barricaded himself in his room and I asked him talk, which of course he didn't want to do."

"What did he say?"

Silence.

"Tell me what he said. I can't help unless I know," prodded Mulder. He knew that Kyle had been a pain in the ass the day before; he had seen Scully, time and again, hold her own in front of difficult children and difficult adults, so what had happened must have really shook her.

"I'm not trying to tell on him, Mulder," Scully attempted to explain. She knew that step-parenting wouldn't be easy, but she wasn't expecting to be at such as a loss as to how to explain her fledgling relationship with Kyle.

"I know you aren't," Mulder responded encouragingly.

"He said that he hated me, which I don't take seriously."

"So what else did he say?"

"That I ruin everything, and that's why you went to New York, and that's why my mother…did what she did."

"Fuck," Mulder groaned. It seemed as though his son had inherited his ability to say the most painful thing at the worst possible time. "You know it's not really personal. Kids lash out. He'll get over the fact he can't go to camp today."

"I know that," Scully said, frustrated about her inability to communicate with Kyle. "I'm just worried that he's not really talking about me, that he's..."

Mulder bent down to kiss the top of her head. "Projecting?" he finished. I'll talk to him, get a sense of what he's thinking."

Scully wiggled slightly, trying to get into a more comfortable position, pressing herself against Mulder's side more closely.

"In the meantime, I'm going to force-feed you some pain medication. You have no excuse. I'm here, and the quicker you get better, the sooner you can stop the bad eating habits I will inevitably be foisting upon the boys."

She chuckled. "I better not. The doctor is supposed to bring me something this morning," she yawned.

"So I guess that means I have to do my best to make sure don't leave the comfort of this bed before then," he teased.

"I wouldn't argue with that," Scully smiled, pressing her lips against his breastbone. No sooner had she finished before they could hear Will's chatter emanate over the baby monitor.

"But apparently he can," Mulder groaned. "I better get him before he wakes up his brothers. Then there will be no peace in this household."

As he carefully slid out of bed, he could hear Scully choke back a yelp of pain as he accidentally jarred her shoulder when propping her left side on some pillows. "Please get some rest," he begged her.

"Mulder?"

He turned around, keenly aware of a strain of weakness in her voice.

"I know that we have a lot to talk about," she said, hear face suddenly forlorn. "But I haven't even begun to think about what the police told me yesterday."

Mulder walked right back towards her, kneeling beside the bed. "We're going to get through this together," he promised.

XXXXX

"Bye bye?"

Mulder snuck a look at the clock. Six a.m. Normally, he would have taken Will out with the jogging stroller to run his five miles, but that would not be possible, at least not today. "No bye bye this time, buddy," he told his son. "We're going to have to settle with the back yard."

Will was always at his quietest in the early morning, and patiently sat on his father's lap with some dinosaur toys and Cheerios as Mulder sipped his first coffee of the day. He was trying to read a month-old _Times_ _Magazine_, but was instead trapped in a cobweb of thoughts about everything that had transpired over the past twenty-four hours.

"I don't think I've ever seen two Mulder boys so well behaved."

Mulder snapped his head up, and gave a wave when he saw Hannah cross the lawn. "I wouldn't say that before you see the state of the kitchen. Get some coffee and sit with us. At least until this little guy decides it's time to run around and trash the joint."

Hannah returned with two fresh cups of coffee. "I'm glad that you were able to come home early. Dana said she wasn't expecting you until today."

"I don't know what we would have done without you yesterday," Mulder said. "Would you be able to help us out again today? Scully's out of commission, and I need to try and get through to Kyle."

Hannah gave Mulder a pointed look. "You and I both know I'm not going anywhere. But do you want my unsolicited advice?"

"Always."

"You've been tip-toeing around him for too long, Fox," began Hannah. "He needs to know that Dana is more than a glorified baby sitter. I'm not saying he doesn't like her, or doesn't respect her—he's just very good at talking himself into and out of situations. Of course, I have no idea where he could have learned that from."

Mulder made a face, setting Will down so he could play on the floor, the little boy's interest in breakfast momentarily abandoned.

"It's not going to be easy, Fox, but if you are to be a family, you can't be the only one with authority over his behavior. Dana and Kyle will have to sort some things out on their own, and they'll get through it, but you have to make a few things clear to him."

"You sound pretty certain that we'll get through this," observed Mulder.

"Trust me, you'll get there. You'll have your work cut out for you when he's officially a teenager, if history can be any lesson."

Mulder groaned. "I think of the stupid shit I did as a kid," he mumbled. "And now I have to multiply it by three."

"I remember it quite well," Hannah smiled. "Is that your better half calling your name? Go up to her, Will's fine with me."

Mulder panicked as he opened the sliding door to the kitchen, realizing that he could hear a loud argument from the second floor. He bounded up the stairs, at the top of which he became greeted by a chaotic scene of toys strewn over the hallway, three visibly upset children, and a shaken Scully. "What the hell is going on here?"

He unlatched the baby gate and picked up Nathan, who was tugging on Scully's t-shirt.

"It doesn't matter," Scully sighed, smoothing down Nathan's curly hair. "I'm going back to bed."

"Yes it does matter," Mulder shot back, having caught a glimpse of a triumphant glint in Kyle's eye. He motioned for Scully not to leave, at least not quite yet. "What just happened?"

Mulder impatiently waited as the seconds ticked by before the stalemate broke. "Peter, can you bring Nathan downstairs? Hannah can get you guys breakfast. Careful on the stairs."

Peter gave his uncle a grateful look as Mulder set Nathan down, taking the two-year-old's hand as they made their way to the kitchen.

Scully wearily began to answer Mulder's question as soon as the younger boys were out of an earshot. "Nathan was hungry, I can't bend down to pick all of this stuff up to get to the baby gate latch, I asked Kyle to pick it up, and he said no."

"I didn't make the mess. Make him clean it up," sputtered Kyle, still clad in pajamas. "All I did was go to the bathroom. You can't keep telling me what to do."

"Yes she can," Mulder said through clenched teeth, his head throbbing. "If Scully asks you to do something, you do it. Apologize, and clean it up, now."

Kyle's eyes flickered as he and his father exchanged fierce, nearly identical looks at one another. "Sorry," he mumbled as Scully weakly smiled and slowly made her way back to the master bedroom.

"Clean. It. Up," Mulder repeated, crossing his arms in front of his chest, pointing to the toys on the floor.

"Why can't she do it?" Kyle whined as he began to pick them up with a dramatic sigh.

"Because she was in a fucking car accident yesterday, along with your brothers, and she can barely move," Mulder exploded.

"She doesn't look hurt," Kyle responded without thinking. The look that crossed his face as soon as the words left his mouth signaled that he hadn't intended to give voice to that particular thought. Immediately, his face fell, and he looked up at his father guiltily.

"I get that this hasn't been easy for you, Kyle," Mulder choked, his voice dropping, his eyes not leaving those of his oldest son. "But I would expect, at the very least, that you wouldn't be so self-involved as to notice that it hasn't been easy for anyone else either. Do you understand that we could have very easily have lost them all yesterday?"

Kyle's lips began to quiver as he saw the look of disappointment cross his father's face. "But Peter said that he didn't even really notice there was a crash," he explained defensively.

Kyle didn't think it was possible, but the look in his father's eyes further intensified. "That's because the fucking car did its job," he finally said. "Did you even notice that Dana is completely black and blue? Or was that for show? That the whole thing was all just an excuse to annoy you?"

Kyle shrugged. He felt awful; he really hadn't thought much about what had happened in the car the day before. He had been so wrapped up in his anger that he couldn't fathom what had been going on around him. All he knew was that a promise made to him had been broken, and that his father wasn't there to explain. If he realized that tears were now streaming down his face, he would have been embarrassed. Instead, he felt empty, and a little bit afraid.

"Finish cleaning this up," Mulder repeated, heading down the stairs, his hands still shaking, leaving Kyle alone with his thoughts and fears. "We're not done talking, but I just can't do this now."

XXXXX

Yelling at his son did not have the cathartic feeling that followed an explosion aimed towards his superiors. Instead, Mulder felt apprehensive. On many different levels, he understood that adolescents frequently spent their time in a haze of self-involvement. However, his mind instead zeroed in on those handful of cases he had worked in which the roots of the perps' criminal behavior could be traced back to a childhood event. Rationally, he knew that there was a 99% chance that his son's selfish behavior could be explained by him simply being an eleven-year-old boy; however, as a glutton for self-punishment, Mulder had to mull over that leftover 1%.

"Everything alright?" Hannah tentatively asked as Mulder gazed out into the backyard.

"I'm just thinking of everything I could have done differently," Mulder shrugged, picking up a toy train that Nathan knocked down. "I always told myself I wouldn't yell at my kids the way my father yelled at me."

"Good thing nobody here is going anywhere then," Hannah smartly smirked, giving Mulder another knowing look as she poured more coffee for the both of them. "You'll get this sorted."

XXXXX

Mulder's mood dampened even further when Preston called with the news that the reporter who ran Scully off the road had made bail. A hearing to discuss Preston's motion for a restraining order would be taking place after an hour-long recess. He wasn't even off the phone when Frank escorted Dr. Porter into the kitchen, pointing to a manila file folder he set on the kitchen counter. "Do you want me to stay?" Mulder asked Scully quietly as he helped her down the stairs to the living room couch. Her balance was off a bit, and he could see why she hadn't trusted herself to deal with Nathan and his toys earlier that morning.

"Please," Scully sleepily answered. Somehow, she had managed to go back to bed after her encounter with Kyle, and she was still groggy with sleep.

Mulder tried not to convey his surprise. He swallowed hard, knowing that Scully must really be hurting if she needed him to stay in the room; normally, she let him off the hook when it came to all things medical. She didn't let go of his hand for the entire examination, squeezing it sharply when Dr. Porter poked and prodded her shoulder too roughly.

"I know you declined this yesterday, but it's not a request now. I want you to have an MRI," he said seriously. "I think your shoulder is badly bruised, but I would feel better if I had a confirmation on that diagnosis, instead of finding out later that it was really a fracture."

Scully winced.

"Let's go," Mulder whispered into her ear. "If this were me, you and i both know that I would already be in the hospital by now."

She grimaced, knowing that he was right. "You need to stay here, with the kids," she protested.

"I'll go with her, Fox," Hannah offered.

"Thank you," Scully mouthed, trying to give a smile.

"Please," Mulder nodded. "Call me."

He managed to distract himself with the kids until they could no longer fight their morning naps. Although Nathan could sometimes get away with only an afternoon lie down, Mulder had to admit he was grateful that the two-year-old had fallen asleep. After holing himself in the den to make a phone call, Mulder decided he needed some time to brood. Kyle hadn't made an appearance downstairs all day, and he knew that Peter had been sneaking food up to him, the eight-year-old having made himself scarce of his own accord. Knowing that he had maybe an hour at most of peace and quiet before getting the boys settled for lunch, he flopped on the couch and managed to sleep until he could feel himself shaking.

"What the hell?" he mumbled, looking up into a pair of Scully-blue eyes. He disappointedly sighed when he realized that they belonged to the wrong Scully.

"You fucking asshole," Charlie seethed. "You ditched me."

"Somehow those words have a completely different effect when they come out of your sister's mouth," Mulder deadpanned as he pulled himself into a seating position. "And yes, I know I ditched you. But for the record, I really don't feel that bad about it. And I hope Frank thought twice before letting you into the house."

"Don't worry, I had to stand out there like an asshole for a long while," Charlie shot back, flopping onto an armchair. He looked hungover, hot, sweaty, and miserable.

"I'm hoping you've shown up to personally let me know that you cracked the audio code," Mulder continued dryly.

"I was too busy trying to figure out where the hell you went," Charlie shot back. "I need a power nap, then I'm on it."

"No whiskey until then," Mulder instructed, getting up off his perch from the couch in order to wander into the kitchen; he needed to start thinking about lunch, and he hoped that there were enough dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets to satisfy both Nathan and Will. The had learned his lesson from the last time he had made the boys different things for lunch. They ended up trying to grab each other's food, and managed to give him a migraine. He became so engrossed in rummaging through the freezer that he didn't realize Kyle had entered the room.

"Dad?" he shyly asked.

"Hey bud," Mulder managed to muster up a smile. "Hungry? Or is the plan for Peter to sneak you food for the rest of your life?"

Kyle blushed. "Am I in trouble?"

Mulder's smile disappeared. "We'll talk about that when Scully gets home," he answered.

"Where'd she go?"

"The hospital," Mulder explained. "The doctor wanted an MRI of her shoulder."

Kyle's eyes practically bulged from his head. "Is she okay?" he asked softly.

"That's why he ordered the MRI, Kyle," Mulder began flippantly, before he noticed the look of guilt that crossed his oldest son's face, prompting him to finish with a more subdued tone. He never intended to make Kyle feel guilty; bad about his behavior, but not guilty. "He thinks so, bud. He just wants to double check. Hannah went with her."

Kyle nodded in response, carefully holding his poker face as he chewed on his lower lip.

"I wanted to ask you something," Mulder continued, restraining his voice as best he could. "And this has nothing to do with what happened this morning, or yesterday even. I've been meaning to ask you for a week or so."

"Yeah?" Kyle asked, his interest peaking.

"I thought I would schedule a check-in with Dr. Saunders for next week," Mulder offered. "Would that be okay?"

To his surprise, Kyle eagerly nodded.

"It will just be a day trip to the city," Mulder explained. "So don't think that we'll have time to go to the museum or anything."

"What day?"

"I don't know yet," Mulder lied. "I'll give his office a call this afternoon, okay?"

Kyle nodded before running up the stairs. Mulder let out a huge sigh of relief. The last thing he wanted was for Kyle to view these appointments as punishment. He wasn't sure how we would have played it if Kyle had protested the notion of another appointment with the psychologist he had been working with over the past few months. Mulder had already placed the phone call, cursing himself for not having insisted that Kyle continue to see him while they were on the Vineyard. He had naively thought it was sufficient to have secured an early September appointment with an adolescent psychologist in DC. Although Dr. Saunders had followed through with his promise to make room in his schedule if the need arose, Mulder wished he had argued his point more forcefully back in May.

Before he could mentally kick himself further, Mulder noticed that the file Frank had left on the counter had been disturbed. He leafed through it, cursing. Before he could grapple with the fact that Kyle must have seen it, he heard signs of life in the nursery. His brooding would once again have to wait.

XXXXX

"It's badly bruised, but nothing's broken," Scully explained from the back of Frank's SUV. "Yes, I will take pain medication this afternoon. I promise you, Mulder. No, we won't have to refill Will's prescription—did you give him his last dose? We'll be home soon." Scully closed her eyes as she handed the cell phone back to Hannah.

"At least the house is still standing," Hannah remarked with a chuckle.

Scully scoffed. "Maybe, maybe not. It sounded pretty chaotic, but then again, I don't remember ever leaving Mulder home alone with the kids and it not being chaotic. But it sounds like they are having fun."

"You can just look at him and know that he loves being a father. I could say the same for you and motherhood," Hannah told Scully.

"Is this a good time to let you in on my secret that I have no idea what I'm doing half the time?"

"You can't tell, Dana," Hannah comforted her.

"Some moments are easier than others," Scully relented, fiddling with her seat belt. Her left arm was encased in a sling, which made for an uncomfortable car ride. At this point she was craving some sort of pain medication, but knew from experience that she needed at least something in her stomach first.

"Things will get better with Kyle," continued Hannah.

"I hope so," Scully agreed, her words trailing as she looked out the tinted window. "I just worry that he doesn't believe I love him."

She only realized that she had given voice to that concern when she felt Hannah's hand pat her knee. "He knows," Hannah assured the younger woman. "He wouldn't be testing you and his father if he felt nothing."

Scully nodded in response and sat back. Thing were becoming more complicated by the moment.

XXXXX

Mulder practically pounced on her when she walked into the kitchen, eyeing the sling suspiciously. "I'm fine," she promised, humoring him by letting him lead her to the table, where there was half of a rather greasy grilled cheese sandwich and a can of ginger ale waiting for her. She shot him an amused look, her eyebrows arched expertly. "This looks…delicious."

"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it," Mulder shot back. "I've had no complaints about my culinary skills."

"All day?" bantered Scully.

Mulder looked at the kitchen clock. "Since noon," he dryly answered. "I believe young Nathan lodged a complaint about an unsatisfactory animal cracker this morning. If I recall correctly, the elephant in question was missing his trunk. And technically, I only served it. So I don't think that complaint really counts."

She held back a snort as best she could. "Thank you," she said more seriously. "I appreciate it."

"Mommy!" Nathan ran into the kitchen.

"And there he is. Hey monkey," Scully said as enthusiastically as she could.

"What dat?" the two-year-old asked with wide hazel eyes.

"It's called a sling. It's going to make my shoulder feel better," she tried to explain as Nathan immediately began to tug on it.

Mulder picked up Nathan before he could do any real damange. "Let Mommy eat lunch," he said, swinging the toddler onto his own lap.

"Frank dropped off the police report," Mulder explained.

"Any surprises?"

"Haven't read it too closely yet," Mulder continued. "But Kyle looked through it. He saw the crash photos, and I think that they freaked him out a little."

"Have you talked to him?"

Mulder shook his head. "I will when these guys go down for a nap. Speaking of which, your brother showed up."

"For a house on lockdown, we certainly play a mean game of musical chairs," Scully responded as she ate the last of the sandwich. Before she could even put her napkin down, Hannah appeared with a glass of water and prescription bottle.

"I'll take over down here," she assured them, giving Mulder a look that signaled she had overheard him say he needed to speak with Kyle.

"Thanks," Mulder said, swinging Nathan back down on the ground. As soon as the boy's feet hit the floor he ran back out of the room.

"I'm going to sack out on the couch for a bit," Scully said. "You go up and see if he's okay."

XXXXX

It was clear that Kyle had been crying. Mulder hadn't given him the opportunity to tell him not to enter his bedroom; he had knocked twice and walked right in, only giving the eleven-year-old enough time to turn his face away from the doorframe. "I didn't put those out on purpose for you to see," Mulder said as he cleared off the desk chair and sat it next to the bed, sitting on it backwards with his chin resting on the top of its high back. "In fact, I didn't even open it until after you went back upstairs. I'm sorry that you had to see it. I should have put the file in my office right when I got it."

Kyle sniffled, still not facing his father. "I really didn't know it was like that," he stammered between sobs.

"I know," Mulder assured him, envisioning the photos in the accident report. At best, the front of Scully's car looked like a crunched up soda can. The driver's side door was completely indented, the back seat doors only a few inches away from sustaining similar damage. The photos of the car's interior were hard to handle, just because they were a reminder of what could have happened—toys, books and snacks strewn about, imprints of the missing carseats. It looked like it belonged in a ghost town.

"I have to look at pictures like those a lot at work," Mulder explained, his voice tender. "Look at me, Kyle."

He waited to continue speaking until he was face-to-face with his son. "It's never easy to look at those photos," he said seriously. "I don't want you to think that I would ever just leave them lying around for you to look at. I should have paid more attention today."

Kyle nodded, sniffling. "I'm sorry," he said.

"I know you are," Mulder replied, knowing the eleven-year-old was telling the truth. "Earlier today, when I was yelling at you—I think what I was trying to explain was that I was really scared yesterday, when I found out what happened. I've seen a lot of accidents, and I know what terrible things can happen. I think I forgot that you're a kid, and you wouldn't really know that. So I should have explained that part better."

"I wasn't thinking that they could really get hurt," Kyle explained, sitting up, his dark hair spiking out in all directions.

"Why think about bad things when you don't have to, I guess," Mulder said, looking into his son's remorseful eyes. "But you need to work on paying attention to what everyone else is feeling."

"Do you think Dana hates me?"Kyle asked shyly.

"No I don't," Mulder said confidently. "She's home, if you want to ask her yourself."

"Is her arm okay?"

"She'll be fine," Mulder promised him. "She has a sling, and she'll be on pretty strong pain medication for the next couple of days, but she'll be okay."

"That's good," Kyle said, looking relieved. "I don't really hate her."

"I know," Mulder said, lamely. "And she knows it, but I think you should stop using that term, you know, to at least clear up any confusion about the matter."

Kyle cracked a small smile, although he still looked quite apprehensive.

"You shouldn't have behaved the way you did, yesterday," Mulder told him. "And you will be punished. But Dana and I have to discuss that first. I think we might be a bit too lenient if we talk about it when she's on prescription pain medication."

"But maybe not," Kyle interrupted him.

"Nice try," Mulder smiled. "And you do owe Dana a big apology, especially about what you said about her mother. But what you said is ultimately between you and her."

"I shouldn't have said that," Kyle admitted.

"Buddy, your mom leaving, that had nothing to do with you, and everything to do with her own stuff," Mulder explained. "Look at me, Kyle. It. Was. Not. Your. Fault."

Kyle nodded up and down, unable to stop the tears. Mulder stood up, kicking his chair aside so he could wrap his arms around his oldest son. "It's okay to miss her," Mulder said. "It's going to be easy some days, and not so easy on other days. But you can always talk to me. I love you, even when you drive me crazy."

XXXXXXX

When Mulder finally emerged from Kyle's room, he nearly tripped over Peter, who was sitting in the hallway. "I wanted to make sure he's okay," Peter said with a guilty look on his face. "He's been really sad."

"You've been a real good cousin to him, Sherman," Mulder said, scuffing up his nephew's red hair. "Sneaking him food all day was above and beyond the call of duty. Especially since was never actually banished to his room. He'll be down in a few minutes."

Peter reluctantly followed his uncle downstairs. "It looks like Aunt Dana got some pretty good pain meds," Mulder noted, peeking his head into the living room. Despite Thomas the Tank Engine on the television, and the rapid babbling of both boys, Scully was out cold, snoring on the couch. She didn't even flinch when Will kept pushing Doggy in her face. "Now's the time to get the markers out, Sherman. Before we lose our nerve."

"Isn't that kind of mean?" Peter asked, wide-eyed but clearly tempted by the idea.

"It's all kinds of perfect, that's what it is," Charlie yawned from his perch at the kitchen counter, where he was slumped over his laptop and a hot cup of coffee.

"We'll use the washable markers," Mulder promised. "That will make it funny instead of mean. Good point, Sherman. Sharpies should strictly be saved be for revenge purposes. Do you know where she keeps them?"

"They're in that cubby thing," Peter pointed to a small bench on one side of the kitchen where Scully stored crayons and other art supplies, rushing over before anyone could change their minds.

"Now the real ethical dilemma here," Mulder opined, carefully eyeing how Scully was splayed on the sofa. "Is whether we should bring the rugrats in on the action."

"Remember when you taught Nathan that he didn't have to eat his vegetables if he took them off his plate?" Hannah called out from the back porch, where she was watering some plants. She knew better than to try and talk Mulder out of his rather sophomoric pranks, and that any attempt to do so would just backfire.

"It didn't happen like that," Mulder protested. "Okay, I see your point. We'll do this once they are napping. But only because I don't want to be scrubbing marker off couches for the next seventeen years."

"No nap!" Nathan immediately snapped his attention from the TV screen to his father, running towards him in protest.

"Supersonic hearing but only when it comes to naps and time outs, huh?" Mulder teased the two-year-old, picking him and tickling his stomach before flipping the boy upside down.

"I'll bring them outside for some running around," Hannah playfully scolded him. "That way you boys can prank Dana. As a reminder, I will not be defending you when she finds out, and at least I can do my part to make sure these little boys don't become completely corrupted."

As soon as the boys were out of sight, Mulder distributed markers to his brother-in-law, nephew, and oldest son, who had just emerged from the second floor. "What are we doing?" Kyle shyly asked as he quizzically looked at the red marker his father handed to him.

"We're just going to fix that pale skin problem Scully has," Mulder explained. "Just a little. To be funny."

"Not to be mean," Peter said pointedly.

"I better not," Kyle said undecidedly.

"You're okay with this one, bud," Mulder winked to him.

"Do we have a sufficient tactical plan?" Charlie asked.

"Are you insinuating that 'scribble and run' isn't taught at Quantico?" Mulder joked. "You wound me, Charlie."

"You are the one with the highest stakes here, my friend," Charlie explained. "You could be left, shall we say, high and dry."

Mulder snorted. "_That_ has yet to happen, and believe me, I've pulled a lot of shit. This wouldn't even rate."

"I can't possibly believe that," Charlie scoffed, until Mulder threw him another look that wordlessly conveyed to him he wasn't joking. "Damn."

"Reverse age order? Sherman, you go first," Mulder encouraged in his nephew, who with some trepidation, approached the sleeping figure of his aunt and dotted her knee with his blue marker. Kyle followed suit, hurriedly drawing some Xs, while Charlie, a bit braver than the children, drew a few smiley faces. Mulder finished off the round by drawing a few hearts, while Charlie made some gagging noises.

He was almost finished when out of nowhere, someone simultaneously grabbed his wrist and yelled 'boo!" He yelped, practically falling on the ground, while he heard gales of laughter from his merry tribe of pranksters. "You scared the shit out of me, Scully. How long have you been awake?"

"I heard you plan this from the beginning," she flashed Mulder an evil, yet tired grin, pulling him forward. "I'm wondering whether I should accept your challenge of with holding se—"

The look of panic that crossed Mulder's face made her burst out into giggles.

"You were trying to cheer up the kids, huh?" she asked him quietly as the others withdrew to the kitchen upon Charlie's suggestion of ice cream.

"Yeah," he quietly said.

"You're a good father—and uncle," she said. "Is Kyle okay?"

"He will be. I told him we would talk to him together. And I made him an appointment to see Dr. Saunders next week," Mulder filled her in. "The real question is, how are you feeling?"

"It hurts, Mulder," Scully said with tears in her eye.

He knew that she wasn't talking about her shoulder.

"I wish I could make it better," he said, maneuvering so he was lying flush with the back of the couch.

"You are," he said to her as he wiped tears from her eyes, knowing that couldn't do so herself. "By making the boys happy, hearing them giggle. It reminds me that something good came out of whatever decisions my parents may have made in the past."

"Charlie's looking for an audio file on that hard drive that might shed some light on what happened way back when," Mulder told her.

"Does it really matter?"

"We'll find out whether it does," Mulder said, confidently. "And I haven't heard back from Preston. He filed a restraining order against that journalist."

"There will always be another journalist," Preston mournfully responded, walking into the room with briefcase in hand.

"I think I have this magical ability today," Mulder joked. "I say someone's name and they just show up."

"Find that brother-in-law of yours, Mulder," Preston barked without any preliminaries. "We have to work fast."

XXXXX

Although the restraining order had been granted against the journalist, Preston had found out enough information to make it seem like a hollow victory. "Your brother has decided not to accept a plea agreement, and at this stage, Justice isn't going to make him another offer."

"He must be feeling rather confident," Charlie icily responded. "Or he's receiving a payoff. But I've been checking all of their bank accounts, and there haven't been any unusual deposits."

"What if the money is going into a blind trust for Matthew?" Scully asked her brother.

"They're too dumb to think of doing something like that," Charlie immediately responded, leaving his sister slack jawed. "But I also thought of that, and nothing."

"To get back on track," Preston interrupted, giving Charlie a look. "The first pre-trial hearing is early next week. This is when we need to get our ducks in a row. You two siblings will be on witness lists. You won't need to make appearances at this stage, but your names will probably be mentioned in open court. Mulder, your good work at Justice yesterday paid off, and your profile isn't going to be submitted into evidence at all."

Mulder breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God," Scully murmured.

"Given the docket of cases assigned to the judge already, we're looking at an early October trial date, with pre-trial hearings every couple of weeks or so," Preston continued. "When is your leave up?"

"September 10," Scully explained.

"Dana, it's my recommendation that you extend your leave, unpaid," Preston explained. "If you aren't drawing a paycheck, there is less paperwork floating around, less people who could tell the press they work with you, and it will be a lot easier to keep you under the radar."

Scully nodded blankly. Preston's suggestion wasn't a surprise—she and Mulder knew it was an option, but something about it not being her own choice bothered her greatly. If things had been different, it was quite possible that she would choose to take more time off to spend with the boys, to readjust to life in DC. But instead, it was a decision that was practically being handed down to her, and she resented the fact that it was due to her brother's actions.

"Charles, we've discussed that you lied during your last interview, and I'm working on a few different things to make sure that no one has to know that you lied," Preston continued, his pace rapid.

"We've done some digging down in DC, and it turns out that your mother is conducting a series of interviews with someone from CBS news. The angle of the story will be sympathetic, and according to the news station intern who shared too much information after a couple of margaritas with my nephew, the angle will be that of a patriotic widow, mourning the loss of her husband and daughter, picking up the pieces after the arrest of her son, while her two remaining children want nothing to do with their family."

"That's the obvious angle," Scully said bravely, practically cutting off the circulation in Mulder's arm as she spoke.

"The wrinkle being," Preston continued, as though he had never been interrupted, "That a fact-checker called the marital home of young Charles here, and his lovely wife told the ambitious young segment producer that her in-laws could go straight to hell, and that she never trusted them in the ten years that she has known them, among other things."

"Fuck," Charlie swore.

"I can't say I blame her," Scully admitted.

"So now they smell a story," Preston finished, sitting back in his chair. "So, Dana, I wouldn't use any IDs bearing your family name."

"I had my wallet out yesterday, at a store," Scully confessed. "What if someone saw it?"

"Don't worry about it. Just from here on in," Preston advised. "Any automated payments through your bank accounts that I should know about?"

"Student loans," Scully shrugged. "That's it."

"You still have student loan payments?" Mulder asked her, surprised.

"I will for a while," Scully responded. "As do most people."

"I can—we can—" Mulder stumbled.

"No, they're mine. I'm working for it," Scully interrupted him. "They'll be forgiven once I get my ten years in, minus however long I've been on a leave."

Scully shot her partner a look, knowing that Mulder was doing the mental math in his head. "Stop it," she shushed him.

"They'll find you eventually, no matter where you end up," Preston placed his pen down on the table. "Just keep your heads down, be vigilant. Kyle will be all set to return to camp. Any other particular places you go here on the Vineyard?"

"Library story hour once or twice a week, the grocery store," Scully rattled her list, trying to think through the headache that was forming in her temple.

"Make a list, think about it, we don't want to forget anything, that's the important thing. Just take your time with it," explained Preston. "I'll stop by tomorrow afternoon. The roadblock will be up for another day; we just want to make some observations at this point, see who might be circling around."

XXXXX

By ten pm, only Mulder and Charlie were still up, Mulder half-heartedly watching an extra-innings Yankees game, and Charlie sprawled on the floor, occupied by two laptops and the hard drive. Scully had gone to bed immediately after dinner, with the help of her medication, while the kids had staggered to their own beds (and crib) at various intervals. Mulder had a sneaking suspicion that the two older boys would make at least one other appearance downstairs, and he found himself smiling when heard the creaking of the staircase. He was about to start teasing them when he realized that it was actually Scully who had made her way downstairs.

"Couldn't sleep?"

She shook her head. "This pain medication isn't doing anything for me. I'm going to see if Dr. Porter can just switch the prescription to Vicodin. At least I know that will work."

"Do you want to take one? There's some upstairs."

They were interrupted by a yelp from across the room.

"I think I found it," Charlie announced, looking up at Mulder with bloodshot eyes, barely registering his sister's presence in the room.

Mulder turned the television off, but could only hear a squeaking sound flow out of the laptop's speakers.

"I need to slow it down," Charlie said, frustrated.

Nearly an hour passed, with Charlie frantically typing away, and Mulder and Scully wordlessly watching him from their perch on the couch. Scully had refused Mulder's offer to find the pills, and instead, they silently waited.

All three adults both practically jumped when the sounds of a British baritone flew through the room. Charlie turned up the speakers and repeated the clip from the beginning.

_Our Naval friend has agreed to the next stage of our plan, with his deepest thanks for everything we have done for his family. The son will be enrolled in the Naval Academy when winter term begins, and the daughter is being transported to the hospital as we speak. We will have our samples soon, gentlemen. Then everything can go back to how it was originally planned. I thank you for your patience as we overcame this unforeseen obstacle_.

"What does that mean?" Charlie asked, barely registering the look of disgust that had crossed his brother-in-law's face.

Mulder ignored him, his focus instead on Scully, who had somehow grown a shade of ash white that Mulder couldn't ever remember having seen before, even during the darkest days of her cancer treatment. "Scully? Stay with me," he begged, cupping her face with his hands. "Look at me."

"This can't be happening," she whispered. "I'm going to be sick."

The sound of her retching echoed through hallway, like needles stabbing through Mulder's chest. He hit his fist against the wall in frustration, disturbing the ugly painting of a ship that had hung in the house since his childhood. When she emerged from the bathroom she looked no better than before.

Mulder took charge and carried her up to their bedroom, knowing that the fight had drained from the second her feet left the floor, when she failed to protest his actions. She wordlessly took a sleeping pill with some water, and he stayed with her until she fell asleep. He slipped back downstairs, knowing that he had to answer at least some of Charlie's questions. He poured a couple of whiskeys and handed one to Charlie, who was still sitting on the living room floor, confused as to his sister's reaction and the accompanying crushed look that had yet to leave Mulder's face.

Two hours later, with only half the bottle remaining, the two men stopped talking. "So I guess my father made a deal with the devil," Charlie sheepishly stated.

"Welcome to the club," Mulder grimly responded, .


	26. Chapter Twenty Five

Before Scully even opened her eyes, the twin sensations of cotton in her mouth and fire in her shoulder radiated through her. It took her a few minutes to adjust to the light that was filtering through the bedroom. When she was finally able to focus, she was shocked to see the clock blinking 12:30 PM. She couldn't remember the last time she had slept that long. Slowly, she got out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom, where she saw a prescription bottle in the sink. "Goddamn it, Mulder," she said to herself as she put the sleeping pills back in the medicine cabinet. The last time she had one was the night back in March when she had found out about everything he had been hiding from her.

But this time, it was her father who had been keeping secrets.

As Scully took a shower, she shuddered, remembering what had transpired the evening before. The thought of her father cutting a deal with the Consortium made her head spin. She increased the heat of the water, hoping the stinging sensation—and the accompanying pain—would release some of her stress. She didn't turn the water off until she was completely immersed in a cloud of steam.

She did her best to wrap a towel around herself one-handed, knowing that there would be no way she could dry her hair. She settled for some curl creme, which she clumsily applied with her right hand. Despite feeling terrible, she had mustered just enough energy to not want frizzy hair. She practically snorted as the thought crossed her mind; out of all of the crazy things that had happened over the past week, she somehow still gave a damn about her hair. Lost in her musings, she jumped when she saw Mulder appear behind her through the mirror.

"I heard the water going," he murmured, handing her a mug of coffee. "I wanted to make sure we talked before the kids climbed all over you."

"There's really nothing to say, Mulder," Scully started warily before he cut her off.

"Cut the bullshit, Scully," Mulder growled, causing Scully to spill her coffee. "I need to hear you say something about this. You can't pretend this is not happening."

"What do you want to hear, Mulder? That my father cut a deal with the devil?"

"That's a start," Mulder replied, his voice softening. "I know you are still processing this, but you can't retreat. We—you—need to start thinking about how much you want to know."

"We," Scully replied, answering his unspoken question and prompting a look of relief cross her partner's face. She felt taken aback by Mulder's reaction—had he really doubted that she didn't think that they were in this together? Or were their respective insecurities mixing their signals? She set the coffee down on her nightstand and sank back down on the bed.

"We," repeated Mulder, sitting next to her. "Your brother wants to find answers, and if we try to stop him, he'll…we at least need to be on the same page as him, even if we don't agree with what he wants to know. He'll need whatever protection we can provide."

"I just want to know that our kids are safe and won't be taken from us," Scully shared.

"I promise you, that won't happen," affirmed Mulder. "I just don't know what you're thinking, Scully. If we're in this together, we're going to have to talk about difficult things, and we're going to have to make decisions."

"But I don't know what I'm thinking," Scully protested. "And in my defense, you drugged me last night. Do I at least get a pass?"

Mulder sighed. He knew she had a point. When he had first realized that she had finally woken up, he had slipped upstairs before the kids figured it out, hoping to give her some breathing room. And instead, he had bombarded her, and most likely, had stressed her out even more than the boys would have.

"All I need is a day, Mulder," she softly explained. "I'm all out of sorts between the medication and the pain and I just want to spend time with you and the kids. I promise, we'll talk about this tomorrow, I just need to focus on everything else."

He nodded. "No, you're right," he finally agreed, lacing his left hand with her right. "But there is something that we need to discuss that can't wait."

XXXXX

Kyle was nervous as he sat in the living room, waiting for his father and Dana to dole out their punishment. Mulder had made it clear to him earlier in the day that they would be having a family meeting (a phrase that made him roll his eyes) when his brothers went down for their afternoon naps, and the wait had seemed to be an eternity. Charlie had taken him and Peter down to the beach that morning, but he wasn't able to quite enjoy himself, not knowing what to expect later that day. At lunch, his uncle had announced that he was taking the boat out fishing for the afternoon, and invited Kyle to join him and Peter. He found himself agreeing to go with them when he looked up and saw his father shaking his head. He had barely started to protest—he only _started_ to say, "But Dad," and was met with a firm "no."

He had then stomped off, barricading himself in his bedroom, fruitlessly hoping that his father would forget all of it—the punishment, the attempt to go out on the boat, everything. But a half-hour later, he heard a loud knock on his door, and before he could respond, his father popped his head in, instructing him to wait in the living room. "Whatever," he muttered, throwing a baseball across the room. He made his way downstairs, noticing both Dana and his father in the nursery. He rolled his eyes and made his way downstairs, flopping down on the couch, flipping on the television. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it certainly wasn't long enough, when his father came into view, turning the set off himself.

Mulder cleared his throat before taking a seat on the ottoman that flanked the easy chair where Scully sat, both of them facing Kyle. "I get it, I'm in trouble," Kyle began when he realized that no one was speaking. "So I can't watch TV for a few days."

The eleven-year-old's eyes darted between his father and his stepmother, both of whom remained silent as he continued with his nervous chatter. "And I can't go to the beach for a day? Two days?"

"And how will that solve the problem?" Mulder asked, secretly impressed that Kyle had obviously been spending time thinking about his punishment. He wasn't sure what had been going on in his oldest son's head over the past couple of days.

"Because I'll learn my lesson and won't do it again."

Smooth, Mulder thought. "And what exactly won't you do again?"

"I'll do what I'm told, I won't talk back, and I won't say really mean things," rattled off Kyle.

"That's a start," Mulder agreed. "But I think we have a few other things going on here, buddy."

Kyle groaned. He hadn't actually been expecting a lecture—he was relying on his father's tendency to act the part of the unstrict parent to make their discussion as short as possible.

"Okay," Kyle sighed as dramatically as possible. "Dana, I shouldn't have said those things to you. I'm sorry I hurt your feelings."

"Better," Mulder murmured as Scully told Kyle that she accepted his apology. He had been hoping that Kyle would have shown at least some of the emotion that he had the afternoon before; however, while Kyle's delivery could use some work, anyone could see just by looking at him that he felt some sense of remorse. Lost in thought, it took him a moment to realize that Kyle was about to make his escape.

"We're not done," Mulder said. "Just listen. This part isn't really about your punishment. It's about us, as a family."

He hesitated before continuing, looking over at Scully for reassurance. Once he saw her begin to nod, he turned to face Kyle.

"We haven't done a great job over the past few weeks in setting some ground rules," Mulder continued. "We've been kind of tip-toeing around one another, and that's probably made everything more stressful. We haven't really had a routine for the past few days, and that hasn't really helped things. There's been some grown-up stuff going on, and so what I'm trying to say is, Scully and I talked, and we think it would be nice if we tried to have dinner together."

"But we do," Kyle protested.

"We do for about five minutes, and then we let you and Peter go off on your own," argued Mulder, who tried to check his annoyance.

"But Nathan and Will get loud and you just ignore us anyway."

Mulder could detect a faint whine in Kyle's voice that sounded much like that of his younger children, something he knew he shouldn't mention to Kyle, although the thought was quite tempting.

"So let's try 15 minutes for the rest of the week, okay?"

He was surprised that Scully had jumped right in, but pleasantly so. He reached behind her, rubbing circles on her lower back to convey his gratitude for joining in on their conversation. "I think that would work," Mulder agreed, keeping a close eye on Kyle's reaction to her suggestion.

"Whatever," Kyle muttered. "Can I go now?"

"Not yet," Mulder said. "There's one thing I that I want to make abundantly clear to you. The other day, Scully had every right to pull you out of camp early. We make decisions around here together, and I will always trust her judgment, _especially_ when I can't physically be here for you and your brothers. So don't question anything she asks you to do. Ever."

"Yeah," Kyle shrugged, looking at the floor.

"Look at me," Mulder demanded. "I need to know that you understand."

"I get it," Kyle mumbled, looking up at his father.

"I hope so," Mulder relaxed, relieved that he had gotten through that conversation. He looked over at Scully for confirmation that they had said everything they had planned.

"Remember how we were playing games at night, after dinner? Scrabble and Boggle and Monopoly? I miss doing that," Scully continued, heartened by the fact that Kyle hadn't been outrightly hostile, at least not yet. "Maybe we should try to do something like that tonight?"

"I guess, but you guys are the ones who are always telling me to leave the room," Kyle exploded.

"You're absolutely right about that," Mulder answered, hanging his head. "And that's on us, not you. So all three of us will try, okay? I know it hasn't been easy for you, buddy, but we're doing our best. And we're going to try harder. And I think that you might want to take her up on that offer since you won't be able to watch TV or use any computer for the next three days."

Kyle winced. He thought he had almost made his father forget about his punishment. "Understood," he said.

"And as a gesture of good faith," continued Mulder. "Because we know that you missed out this week, why don't you see if a few kids from camp can come over on Saturday. But you're on dangerously thin ice, and we'll call it off if you so much as even think of disobeying either one of us or if you even try to get out of your seat at the dinner table before being excused."

"Really?" Kyle broke out into a grin. "Thanks, Dad."

"Thank Scully, it was her idea," Mulder said grudgenly. "She convinced me that you are mature enough to realize that this wouldn't be us rewarding you for your bad behavior."

"Thanks, Dana," Kyle said shyly.

After giving his son permission to escape the confines of the living room, Scully turned to Mulder. "How do you think that went?"

"I have no fucking idea," Mulder laughed. "I'm just glad that's over with."

"Not as much as he is," Scully bantered. "I think it was a little awkward for everyone."

"Baby steps," Mulder replied, unsure if he was trying to convince Scully or himself.

Scully's eyes glazed over, as though she had suddenly remembered something. "What's wrong?" Mulder asked her, concerned.

"It just hit me," Scully explained, sitting back in the armchair, ignoring the pain radiating from her shoulder. "We've really made a mess of things. How can we even contemplate investigating anything when we clearly can't even juggle a vacation, when neither of us are even working?"

Mulder hesitated, unsure if he wanted to push Scully to have the conversation she had begged to postpone just a few hours earlier. She had offered him a small window of opportunity, and he decided to take it before she shut him down. Before he could open his mouth, noise erupted over the baby monitor. "I'll get him," Mulder offered, knowing Scully wouldn't be able to do any lifting or diaper-changing with her injury. When he returned with Nathan a few moments later, the two-year-old quickly figured out that he had the undivided attention of both his parents, and the three settled down to play with his favorite animal-alphabet puzzle.

XXXXXX

Once Will woke up from his nap, they took the boys outside to play. As Mulder was herding the toddlers outside, Scully slipped upstairs to ask Kyle if he wanted to join them. To her surprise, he didn't reject the offer outright. "I'm almost finished with this chapter," he said, rolling back on the balls of his feet. "It's a summer reading book."

"We're not going anywhere," Scully told him as she moved away from his doorframe. "We'll see you outside."

"Oh, Dana?" Kyle asked nervously, his words crashing together. He was standing on tip-toes, favoring one leg, and then the other.

"Yup?" Scully responded, turning around so she could face him.

"I'm really sorry," he stumbled. For a split-second, Scully thought he was going to cry.

"I know you are," Scully replied kindly, walking back towards him, softly touching his shoulder. "I was just thinking that we haven't really spent a lot of time together. I should be back to driving next week. Maybe I can pick you up from camp one afternoon, and we can go do something on our own? A movie or the bookstore? Think about it."

"Mini-golf?" Kyle pleaded, a smile tugging on his face.

"Of course," Scully grinned back. Despite his tendency to act the champion of everything tacky, Mulder detested mini-golf, and had made his displeasure of the activity (he refused to call it a sport) well-known. "That would be fun."

She couldn't help but continue to smile as she made her way to the backyard, where Mulder was patiently rolling a soccer ball to Nathan. "Kick it," she could hear her partner call out. With a fierce look of concentration, Nathan followed through with his father's instructions, and promptly fell over, giggling as he pushed himself back up onto his feet.

"Me!" Will babbled, running fiercely towards the ball until he stopped completely right as he approached it, unsure of how to coordinate his next move. He looked over at his father, trying to mimic his stance, and lightly tapped the ball. As he looked back over at his parents, he accidentally pushed the ball several feet, much to his surprise.

"Don't overthink it, Will," Mulder called out. "Don't overanalyze it like your mom. Just follow your instincts, buddy."

"You're terrible," Scully chuckled, softly swatting Mulder's chest. Watching him try to coach two children under the age of three in the art of soccer was amusing enough. She knew he was tempted to get out the foam t-ball set, but since that attempt at sportsmanship had resulted in Nathan thumping everything in sight with the bat—including Will's head—he was relegated to an activity that did not require equipment that could mimic a light saber.

"Everything okay? You disappeared for a bit," Mulder asked, trying to downplay his concern.

"Talking to Kyle. He'll be out in a few minutes," Scully said quietly. "He apologized."

"Good," Mulder smiled, slipping his arm around her waist, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. "I'm proud of him."

"Me too. It's baby steps," Scully echoed. Maybe they were doing something right after all.

XXXXXX

Kyle kept his word, and joined everyone outside just as Charlie and Peter, slightly sunburnt and dripping from the water, returned from the dock. After running around with the kids for a few minutes, Scully grew tired, and slipped off to the hammock, which allowed her a perfect view of everyone playing. She was so engrossed in watching the kids chase each other around, she barely realized that Mulder was trying to climb in beside her. "Don't move," he murmured as he did his best to counter-balance her weight. The last thing he wanted was to make a sudden movement that would result in her tumbling to the ground.

"It's just physics, Mulder," she teased as he attempted to stretch the rope and fit his lanky body into the rather small space in which she was perched. "Let's do it this way." She got up from her seat, allowing him to lie down, and before she could step back into the hammock he had tipped her backwards, landing right on top of him.

"I like this way better, physicist," he agreed as they readjusted their positions. "It's no use arguing with the woman who rewrote Einstein."

Scully let out a contented sigh—it was nice to stretch out like this, with him, outside, in full view of the kids, the house, the water. The sun was just low enough that it filtered through the trees, the light practically sparkling off the kid's faces.

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" Mulder said softly into her ear.

She looked intent at the scene before her. Charlie must have begged off playing, now seated in an Adirondack chair with a beer at his side. It was finally happening. The boys, all four of them, playing with one another without any prompting from an adult. It looked like a slightly complicated game, with Kyle and Peter tossing the soccer ball to one another, while the toddlers chased after whoever had it in their possession. As soon as they saw it in the air, they headed in that direction. Although it was resulting in some tripping and tumbles, there were no tears, at least not yet. Scully even caught site of Kyle helping Nathan up, spinning him around a bit in the process, prompting giggles of delight from the two-year-old. After setting Nathan down, Kyle tripped over Will, who fell over flat on his back.

Scully could feel Mulder start to tense behind her, and as he drew a deep breath, she murmured, "Let them work it out."

Sure enough, Kyle helped up his youngest brother, who was a bit unsteady on his feet at first, but soon took his sibling's hand as they ran out a bit, to chase after the ball that Peter threw. "I think this is the first time that he's played with them without being asked," Mulder said in amazement.

"I'm not sure if we should tell him, but it sure looks like he's enjoying it too. They all are," Scully said. "Mulder, we owe it to them."

"Hmm?" asked Mulder. "I don't know what you mean."

"We owe it to these boys to figure out all of this…the truth, whatever it ends up being. It's not fair to them otherwise," she continued. "But how do we do that without sacrificing being present in their lives? What's the tipping point? I know us, Mulder, we never do anything halfway."

"We come up with a plan, Scully," Mulder assured her. "And we stick to it."

"Until we go off course."

"Can we agree that we should at least try?"

Scully bit her lip, frustrated. "But the cost, Mulder, it's not just a matter of us inconveniencing ourselves with a lost weekend or all-nighter anymore."

"We give up the legwork part," Mulder responded. "We only get information once it has been confirmed and re-confirmed twice over."

Scully tensed, wondering how long Mulder had spent preparing himself for this conversation. He had obviously been gearing up for a discussion, if not for an all-out fight. "You've been thinking about this," she finally said.

"It's been on my mind," Mulder agreed. "Especially since the night of the 3rd, when I flew out to New York."

"The night we fought," Scully murmured.

A cry pierced through the yard. Scully turned around to see that Nathan had once again fallen, but this time wasn't getting up. "To be continued," Mulder muttered.

"I'm surprised they lasted this long," Scully responded, wondering in what direction her conversation with Mulder was heading. She pushed those thoughts aside as she climbed out of the hammock and walked over to where the boys were playing.

"Nathan, what's going on, monkey?" Mulder asked, scooping Nathan up in his arms. He was streaked with dirt from head to toe, and Scully could see his skinned his knee pretty badly.

An equally filthy Will toddled over to his mother, wrapping his arms around her knee. "Up," he whined. "Up!"

"I can't really do that today, bullfrog," Scully said sadly, running her good hand through his hair, cursing her shoulder injury. "i'm sorry."

"Is he really hurt?" Kyle nervously asked, his tone quieter than usual.

"I think he's tired and hungry more than anything. You had a good run with these guys. They really kept up with you two. Did you have fun, Will?"

Will nodded, "Zoosh."

"Juice for everybody," Scully agreed. "Juice and bath and dinner. In that order."

XXXXX

Before she could get a good look at Nathan's wound, Scully had to get him cleaned up. Neither toddler enjoyed being scrubbed up and down in the tub on a good day, and Scully didn't want to irritate Nathan's scrapes with bubble bath. "Bubbs!" Will kept requesting, only moderately distracted by his boat and rubber ducky bath toys.

"I'm surprised there's any dirt left outside," Mulder whistled as he pulled both boys out of the tub. They settled Will into clean clothes and set him down with some toys as Mulder held Nathan so Scully could get a look at his knee. "It's going to sting but only for a few seconds," Scully warned her son as she put some bacitracin ointment over the scrapes.

"No!" Nathan cried out, kicking and clinging to his father.

"I'm sorry, baby," Scully apologized, putting a bandage over his cut. "It will feel better soon."

"No!" Nathan firmly repeated, turning away from his mother, and burying his face in Mulder's chest.

"Mommy is making sure it doesn't hurt even more," Mulder soothed the overtired toddler. "You're okay, little monster."

Nathan made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with this mother, turning away from her every time she even so much as looked at him. Both Mulder and her brother told her not to take it personally, but those sentiments failed to provide any comfort. Nathan remained glued to his father, sitting on his lap throughout dinner. If he hadn't made such a big production over eating together, Mulder would have tried to have gotten the two-year-old to bed early, and pushed off his own meal until after his son had fallen asleep.

Surprisingly, Kyle hadn't kept a close eye on the clock. Mulder surmised that his oldest son was more engaged in conversation than he usual, and when he did leave the table, it was to go back outside with Peter, so they could make s'mores over the dying embers of the grill. He glanced over at Scully and smiled. "We can't win them all over at the same time," he joked, looking down at Nathan in his arms. "Hey buddy, are you going to say good night to Mommy?"

"No bed," Nathan firmly responded, clutching Doggy with one hand, and his father's t-shirt in the other.

"You're not sleepy at all, monkey?"

"No," he shouted, prompting chuckles from both his parents. His stubbornness was always at its fiercest peak when he was sleepy, and his plump lower lip would quiver, a miniature version of his father.

"Are you going to stay up all night?" Mulder asked Nathan, who was fighting the urge to close his eyes.

"I love you, monkey," Scully said to Nathan, smoothing down his curly hair. She was waiting for him to flinch, and when he did not, she said to Mulder, "I guess I've been forgiven."

"He certainly made his feelings known about being patched up."

"Just like his daddy," Scully smiled.

"I've never kicked," Mulder defended himself, with mock innocence.

Scully raised her eyebrows.

"Because of that," Mulder corrected himself.

"That might be too much information," Charlie snorted from across the table.

Will banged his fist on his highchair tray. "Want out of jail, buddy?" Charlie asked him as he walked over to pick up his nephew.

"How'd you like your dinner, bullfrog?" Scully asked her youngest son.

"Up!" Will demanded, prompting Charlie to lift him up to Scully's lap.

"At least one of these guys isn't mad at me," said Scully, wiping off Will's face as best she could with one hand. She looked around the table—she barely remembered eating dinner the past couple of nights. Everything had been such a blur. But she could perfectly recall everything that had just transpired over their evening meal—the bad puns Mulder and Peter had exchanged, the exaggerated stories Charlie had told, the dog names Kyle was considering for their yet-to-be-adopted puppy, and the look of pride that had crossed her partner's face when he had looked at the clock and realized that despite the passage of the fifteen minute mark, everyone was still together at the table.

"Scully? Does that sound good to you?"

She snapped her head up, "What?"

"Do you want to play Pictionary?" Mulder repeated. "Or do you need to go to bed?"

"I'm up for a game," she quickly recovered with a smile.

XXXXXXX

"I don't think we should get our hopes up too much," Mulder said as he brushed his teeth. "Although tonight was a lot of fun."

"It was fun," Scully said as she took off her sling, gingerly rubbing her shoulder. "Who knew Kyle was such an artist?"

"I sure as hell didn't," Mulder admitted. "Should I have?"

"I didn't mean it like that," Scully groaned. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make it sound like you didn't—"

"I know, I know," Mulder defensively interrupted as he sat down on the bed. "I just get confused. It's been four months and I still feel like the weekend, part-time dad."

"You did a good job talking to him today," said Scully.

"We talked to him," corrected Mulder.

"You did most of the talking," Scully said.

"But you were right next to me. That was the important thing. Letting him know that there are two of us," Mulder distractedly explained.

"Mulder, it's a work-in-progress," reminded Scully. "It's going to feel strange for a while. But it was a fun afternoon. He stayed for dinner."

"I guess," Mulder shrugged. "I just want this to work so badly that I'm overthinking it."

"What are you worried about? Talk to me," Scully asked, taking in the look of disappointment in his face.

"Are you up for finishing the conversation we started this afternoon?" he asked tentatively.

Scully nodded, completely unsure of what he was going to say next. "For the first time in twenty-five years, I know where my sister is," Mulder sighed. "I don't have the answers to the why and the how, but I know that she is safe, and I have a way to keep tabs on her. Granted, there is always the question of how much I should trust my source."

"And?"

"We're in a position where we can start to put the pieces together, Scully. All of a sudden, we have a plethora of information at our fingertips. It all connects—we have leads everywhere. It will take a long time do dig through everything, between school records and the photo album and whatever else might be in that hard drive downstairs."

"Is this a good thing or a bad thing?" Scully asked, seriously.

"I don't know," Mulder sighed, his frustration obvious. "Do we really want to know? What good would it do?"

"It could protect the boys," Scully realized Mulder's dilemma. "Or it could mean absolutely nothing."

"Last night, I told Charlie everything about Samantha," Mulder confessed. "And he wants to help us figure out all of this. How my sister could connect to your father."

"We can't let him," Scully immediately protested. "We can't protect him."

"He's an adult, Scully. I laid it all out, and he is interested. He wants answers about your father," pointed out Mulder. "And I think it would be helpful for someone with fresh eyes to see all of this."

"It could be dangerous."

"It could be more dangerous for everyone if he doesn't do this," Mulder explained.

"I don't like this," Scully muttered. "But I know that the more I protest, the more determined he'll be to want to see this through. Just promise me, Mulder, that you and I stay on the same page with all of this."

"My motivation, Scully, in all of this, is for us and our kids. And I am going to do everything to keep us safe. I have some letting go to do—I know I can't just rush out of here at the drop of a hat, and that I can't pull all nighters researching bumps in the dark."

"You say that now, Mulder, but in a couple of months we go back home, back to DC," Scully reminded him.

"And then we go back to work, and I keep those political channels open," Mulder knelt down next to her. "Now that I—we have specific information, we'll be able to target our inquiries better."

Scully's face fell.

Fuck, Mulder thought. It was only _he_ who would be able to go back to work. "Scully, this trial will blow over, and you'll be back at the Hoover building where you belong," he said, taking her hand. "Slicing and dicing everyone else to shame."

"I know," Scully bit her lip, trying to keep her emotions in check. It wasn't Mulder's fault. "It's fine, Mulder. I'm okay with all of this. I wouldn't want a case to be compromised because of something as ridiculous as my last name."

"It's not fair," Mulder told her.

"I'm over it, Mulder," Scully grumbled. "So what's next for the dynamic duo and kid brother?"

"Your medical records from the hospital stay in Bethesda," laid out Mulder.

"Those could be anywhere. Most people's medical records are destroyed after ten years, unless they have a chronic or recurrent condition. You didn't really think you could get those after making a couple of phone calls and flirting with a unit secretary?"

"It's worked in the past," Mulder joked. "At least the hospital still exists."

"Well I don't have them," Scully kidded.

"So you're okay with this?"

Scully nodded. "We need to tread carefully," she warned Mulder.

XXXXX

Mulder found it difficult to get to sleep, unsure of whether Scully was truly okay with them moving forward—with Charlie's assistance—in unraveling the whole mess they had stumbled upon. At some point, he had drifted off, only realizing he had done so when he felt someone tug his arm. "Daddy," Nathan whined.

"What's wrong, buddy?" Mulder asked, rubbing his eyes. He looked over; Scully had taken a vicodin pill, and was down for the count. "Are you okay? Does your knee hurt?"

"I wanna play," Nathan looked up at him with wet eyes. "Now."

"Nathan, it's three in the morning," protested Mulder. "Go back to bed."

"Not sleepy," the two-year-old insisted stubbornly.

"Come up here," Mulder offered.

"No bed."

Mulder quickly realized that he was no match for the cranky toddler. Not wanting to wake up everyone on the second floor, Mulder brought him downstairs, hoping that he would fall asleep after a few stories. When Nathan ran for his train set, Mulder knew he was outnumbered. He sent off a few emails to Byers and Langley, and the next thing he knew, he was waking up on the couch, with Nathan on the floor in full face-plant mode, clutching two of his trains.

"Midnight toy time?" Charlie chuckled as he handed Mulder a mug of coffee.

"Something like that," Mulder muttered.

"Noah did that for a bit," offered Charlie. "He would get up in the middle of the night and play, and we'd find him on the floor the next morning."

"How long did that phase last?" Mulder asked, scowling when Charlie only laughed in response. He picked up his son, placing him gently on the sofa with an afghan, hoping he wouldn't fall off the couch. Something told him that Nathan was going to follow in his footsteps as a frequent flyer in the emergency room.

"Did you talk to her?" Charlie asked, hopefully, as they settled in the den, where Charlie was working off both Mulder's desktop computer and his own personal laptop. The hard drive was perched on the desk, emanating a low noise.

"She's good," Mulder said. "She wants you to be careful."

Charlie rolled his eyes. "She's bossy," he murmured.

"She's worried," Mulder corrected his brother-in-law. "As she should be."

XXXXX

The call from the Gunmen came in late afternoon, just as Mulder was returning home from picking up Kyle at camp. "Muldy?" Langley asked. "Got a second?"

"Sure," Mulder replied. "What's up?"

"We're still working with Charlie on finding the medical records, but when we ran the dates, we, uh, realized something," Langley rushed, making the hair on Mulder's neck stand up.

"Remember when the Spender kid told you that Samantha sometimes went away for weeks at a time? What if those dates matched?" Byers interrupted. "We think you should talk to him."

Mulder sighed. "I really don't want to bring him into this," he protested, knowing that his friends were right. "But I guess I should talk to him. Let me think."

"What's wrong?" Scully asked, her concern growing as she witnessed the tense exchange Mulder was having on the phone.

"They want me to call Jeffrey Spender," Mulder said, chewing on the side of his mouth. "They want me to check out where Samantha might have been that Thanksgiving."

Scully drew a sharp breath. "That's a good idea, you have to admit that, Mulder," she reasoned.

"I wish I thought of it," he grumbled. "I'll call him. Do you mind if he comes up here?"

"No," Scully said. "But if he's anything like my brother, he'll end up moving in and will drink all of your whiskey."

"Doesn't Charlie have a home? And a wife for that matter?" Mulder asked lightly, joining Scully in the living room, where the boys were playing some game that seemingly involved all their toys.

"He does, but since her fifteen minutes of fame began, she's at her parent's house. I can't blame her—they were camped out in front of their house. That reminds me. Preston called while you are out—he's trying to get an injunction to stop the story from airing over the weekend," explained Scully. "The strategy being that he files an injunction, and they'll end up not being able to say where I am living, or anything else about us for that matter."

"The law works in mysterious ways," Mulder flippantly responded.

"You know, Mulder, you're going to end up having to talk to him at some point. It might as well be now," Scully pointed out, trying to be pragmatic and supportive at the same time. "You're just going to drive yourself, and the rest of us, crazy until you do it."

"What if the dates end up matching?" Mulder asked.

"Then at the very least, we'll know," Scully shrugged. "Beyond that, our feelings don't really matter."

"You're right on that count," Mulder snorted, sliding down on the floor, where Will immediately toddled over to him, waving a block in his face. He accepted his son's gift and immediately recoiled, realizing that it was slick with drool. "I know what side of the family you got that from, buddy."

"I'm right here, Mulder," Scully casually reminded him, resisting the urge to throw a stuffed animal in his direction.

"I'll call him tonight. Maybe he can come up this weekend. I doubt he has much of a social life," Mulder sighed, doubly annoyed when he saw the look of bemusement on his partner's face. "Okay, bad choice of words."

XXXXX

For the second night in a row, they sat down to a relatively quiet dinner, the only heated debate being the cause of dinosaurs' extinction. Peter proved to be quite passionate on the subject, and Kyle gushed about his favorite museum exhibit being the dinosaur hall at the Museum of Natural History. "Dad, can you take us?" Kyle asked.

"Sure, but I don't know when," Mulder responded, looking at Scully, who nodded in agreement. "That would be fun, a family trip to New York."

"Can we go soon?"

"Not this weekend, aren't you having your friends over on Saturday? Plus, we're going to have a visitor," Mulder explained.

"A fun visitor? Like Langley?" Kyle asked skeptically. "Or a boring one like Preston?"

"Your Uncle Jeff is coming for a couple of days," he responded. Although he couldn't stand Jeffrey Spender, Mulder knew that his son was close to him.

"That's awesome!" Kyle exclaimed. "Maybe he'll take us to the bumper cars on the Cape. That's what we did when he visited last summer."

"What?" Mulder asked, confused.

Scully worriedly looked at her partner.

"He stayed here with me and mom last year," Kyle explained. "After you had to go back to DC."

"Oh," Mulder said, hoping that his face didn't betray the surge of anger that rose through him. "I forgot."

Mulder pushed aside his plate and sat back on his chair, mindlessly picking Nathan off his seat and placing the squirming toddler on his lap, listening to him babble about farm animal sounds. "I'll bring these guys up to bed," he murmured a few minutes later, picking up both boys.

"Do you want help?" Scully asked, concerned about Mulder. His reaction to Kyle's news was not lost on her.

"I'm good," Mulder told her with a pursed smile. He took his time getting the boys into their pajamas, lingering over their bedtime story and then watching them fall asleep. He knew his feelings towards his younger half-brother were complicated, and that while some of his resentment was justified, his anger about the situation tended to be irrational. He missed out on so much of Kyle's time growing up, and he was jealous that many of the father-son rituals he wanted to participate in with his son instead involved Jeff Spender. The mature part of him was grateful that Kyle had somebody—a positive male influence, nonetheless—but the bigger part of him wasn't so giving. At least he wouldn't have to compete with anyone over the attention of Nathan and Will.

By the time Mulder made his way back down to the kitchen, the table was empty, and the boys were helping Charlie clean up. "Dana walked down to the water," Charlie told him. "You should go join her. Me and the boys are on clean up duty, then we're playing Monoply."

"Count me in," Mulder said as he slipped out the sliding glass door, and made his way down to the water.

"Everything okay?" he asked Scully as he approached her from behind, slipping his arms around her waist.

"I should be asking you that," Scully said, turning around.

Caught, Mulder thought. "Nothing gets by you."

"I'm the eye in FBI," she bantered. "It's okay, Mulder. I know how hard you've worked to accept your brother's place in Kyle's life, but it doesn't make it easy."

Mulder's face fell, and it wasn't until he heard his own sob that he realized the weight of the pain that he had been holding in. He buried his face in Scully's shoulder, practically picking her up. "I just wanted one place with my son," he sniffled a few moments later. "That sounds selfish, I know."

"It's not selfish, Mulder," Scully told him, wiping away his tears, cradling his face with her palms. "You love him, and you didn't have much time with him. But you are his father, no one can take that away from you. And you know what? Kyle adores you. Yes it hasn't been the easiest few weeks, but he loves you and you love him."

"On some levels, I realize how lucky Kyle was to have him in his life. It was like how my grandfather was there for me when I was his age," Mulder said quietly, as they sat down on the beach. "But it just hurts, because I wanted to be there and couldn't."

"But now you are both here," Scully reminded him.

XXXXXX

Mulder knew that his timing had never been all that good, but to have to face playing host to one of his least-favorite people immediately following a tiring afternoon spent chaperoning four incredibly loud pre-adolescent boys and two toddlers who tried to mimic everything they did, had to be one of the worst scheduling decisions of his life. By the time the adults had a chance to sit down together, it was pushing nine o'clock, and Mulder, for one, would have jumped at the chance to postpone their conversation until the next day. But if anything, it was his secret hope that if they wrapped up everything they needed to discuss right then and there, Spender would take the opportunity to leave the next day.

It annoyed Mulder to no end that Charlie was laughing right along with Spender, Scully having to talk him down as they loaded the dishwasher, wafts of their conversation on the porch filtering into the kitchen. "He's always like that Mulder, even with people he doesn't like," Scully reminded him.

"And that makes it all better," Mulder whined.

After bringing Spender up to speed, albeit selectively so, Mulder asked his brother whether he would be able to remember where his family spent Thanksgiving 1977.

"Of course," Spender responded immediately, wondering why the answer to that question warranted an eight-hour drive from DC instead of a phone call. "We were in DC."

"You're certain?" Mulder asked, sneaking a peak at Scully, who had stiffened in her seat.

"I remember because Sam needed to get her tonsils out," Spender shared. "She was in the hospital here because my Dad didn't trust the one where we lived. He wanted to make sure she got the best care possible. Is that good news? Bad news? You all look real worried."

"I don't know the answer to that question," Mulder murmured, his eyes not leaving those of Scully.


	27. Chapter Twenty Six

**A/N: This chapter is a bit of a change of pace-hope you enjoy it! Thanks very much for your encouragement and reviews.**

As much as she loved being cocooned with her family, away from the prying eyes of the Bureau, Scully couldn't wait until they left for DC. Although the Vineyard house would always have a special place in her heart as their first home with Nathan and Will, both she and Mulder were tired of living with ghosts.

When Mulder had first pitched the idea of spending the summer at his grandfather's house, she was skeptical that spending three months on the island where he grew up, where his sister was abducted, was the best decision; but he was insistent that he needed to be in the place where he had spent precious time with his son. There were dozens of moments when Scully caught Mulder wistfully staring out into space, knowing that he had somehow gotten caught up in his past. But it wasn't until after Mulder realized that Jeff Spender had factored into Kyle's memories of previous Vineyard visits that he begun in earnest to talk about going back to Washington.

Even though they were technically moving to another Mulder family property, there were no ghosts—emotional, real, or otherwise, attached to the DC townhouse. While it had been Mulder's initial idea for Scully, him, and Kyle to live there together instead of continuing to lease it out, all subsequent decisions regarding the renovations had been made by him and Scully together. They both agreed that in order to make their (at the time) family-of-three work, they would need to start over in a fresh space, and the days leading up to their departure for their summer on the Vineyard were spent in a whirlwind of paint samples and finalizing plans with the contractors. Luckily the townhouse had plenty of space, so there was not much extra work that had to be done when their family count unexpectedly grew by two.

And so now, weeks later, they were finally home.

Prior to their trip, they had made detailed arrangements about where they wanted their furniture dropped, so when they walked into the house for the first time, the chaos was at a minimum. Over the past week, Scully had begun to realize how stressful everything would have been if she had needed to get back to work immediately, and was grateful to not feel pressured to have to find a new place for everything right away. The only thing she was concerned about finishing before bedtime was getting the boys' rooms ready; the rest of the boxes scattered around the house could wait. Her priority was to make them feel as secure as possible, especially as she had been anticipating that Nathan's nightmares would return as they became acclimated to the townhouse.

"Scully?"

Scully whipped her ahead around when she realized Mulder was calling for her, momentarily puzzled as to what was happening. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she realized that there were two strangers sitting in the living room. "Hi," she said, hoping that she didn't look or sound as far away as she felt.

"This is Coop and Elisabeth," Mulder introduced as she shook their hands. "Coop is Preston's nephew. He is here today to pay off his debt."

"Sorry?" Scully asked with an arched eyebrow as she set Will on the floor. He soon joined Nathan in knocking over the tote bag that held their favorite toys, their mother having the foresight to know what needed to be accessible after a seven-hour car ride.

"Mulder bailed me out of jail freshman year of Georgetown. Youthful indiscretion," smiled Coop.

A side-eyed look from the young woman standing next to him resulted in him finishing, "It may have been more than once. In any case, he's finally cashing in his favor."

"I'm Elisabeth. It's very nice to finally meet you," the brunette smiled, holding out her hand before kneeling down to the. "These guys must be Nathan and Will. And is that Thomas the Tank Engine?"

Scully warily smiled at Mulder, knowing she had been set up.

"Guilty," Mulder grinned back. "I knew you wanted to get the boys' rooms settled. And this way they could get to know some potential babysitters with out you having an anxiety attack."

"And by you I meant us," he corrected as he caught sight of her arched eyebrow.

"That was incredibly thoughtful," she said.

"I'm a thoughtful guy," bantered Mulder.

"I never said you weren't," Scully assured him as she gave him a quick kiss.

"You guys are disgusting," snorted Kyle as he bounded into the room. "Coop! Did you see the ceiling in my room? I'm up on the third floor. I get it all to myself."

"Not really," Mulder reminded his son. "There is a guest bedroom up there."

"Haven't been up there yet. You do know that means your dad's going to be too lazy to check to see whether you really cleaned your room or not," Cooper told Kyle as he followed him back upstairs, Mulder flinching.

"Kyle would have figured it out on his own pretty quickly," Scully pointed out.

"Still, it's nice not to be undermined in one's own home," Mulder sighed, looking at his watch. It was nearing 4:00 PM, and even just setting up two rooms would take some time; they needed to get started immediately if they wanted to get the kids settled. "I just hope that the boxes are in the right rooms."

XXXXX

"Admit that I made the right call," Mulder said that night as they slumped on one of the sofas in the living room. It was just past nine o'clock, and the younger boys were finally in bed, hyped up on all of the excitement brought by a long car ride, new house, and new faces. Nathan had practically attached himself to Elisabeth, and it wasn't until he began to poke his head in all of the rooms after she and Coop had left that Scully realized the two-year-old had thought that the both of them also lived in the house.

She smiled when she recalled Nathan's reaction to seeing his bedroom for the first time. He had squealed when he spotted the bright blue Thomas the Tank Engine comforter on his bed, and then practically threw himself on the walls with the 101 Dalmatian decals. Will's room had been similarly decorated, only with a Lion King theme, and Mulder and Coop had managed to assemble the cherry crib, the only piece of furniture they had brought with them from the Vineyard, before bedtime. Although they still had a ways to go, there were enough toys and books to make the rooms familiar for Nathan and Will.

"We never would have gotten that much done if they hadn't been here," Scully agreed, looking around the living room. There were two oversized couches facing one another, with the TV at end of the room, and a fireplace at the other. It felt homey and lived-in, even after only a few hours of use; the complete opposite of the den in the Vineyard House, in which any evidence of children—toys, picture books, and lost socks—seemed out-of-place. "Were you able to get anything set up in your office?"

Mulder stretched out and yawned. "I just popped in to make sure that the computer was there. Kyle told me that he called the movers to put it in his bedroom instead. I wanted to make sure it was locked up before I could go through everything. After what happened with the police file from your accident, I'm not take any more chances," he explained.

"Does the door lock from the inside?" Scully asked pointedly, licking her lips quickly.

"Um…yes," stumbled Mulder, his heart pounding, clearly caught off-guard before making a quick recovery, inching closer to her on the sofa. "I actually double-checked that with the contractor when we were finalizing the plans."

"Any particular reason?" Scully asked in a low voice, taking a deep breath as she saw Mulder's eyes glaze over.

"We decided to keep my old black leather couch," he said slowly, his voice becoming deeper as he leaned in for a kiss. "And that was the only room where it could fit."

"Good answer," Scully whispered in between their kisses, which were becoming more frantic.

The sound of footsteps barreling down the staircase caused them to break apart, Mulder rearranging a couple of pillows on his lap before Kyle entered the room. "Dad, I need help moving the bookshelf. It's blocking the closet door."

"The same bookshelf that we moved across the room because you said that there was enough space between the wall and closet door?" Mulder asked.

"The tape measure was broken," Kyle argued. "It's not my fault."

"Everyone knows that there are two sides to a tape measure," Mulder sighed, shooting a dirty look to Scully as she chuckled. "Your generation is growing up completely ignorant of the metric system. I'll be there in a minute. And don't run up the stairs."

"Broken?"

Mulder threw his hands up in the air, wincing as his oldest son's footsteps reverberated through the house. "We're never moving again," he muttered as he got up off the couch, nearly tripping on some abandoned blocks that were scattered across the floor.

XXXXX

The first surprise of the evening was when Mulder slipped into the master bath shower with her. "Solved the problems of the metric system so quickly?" she murmured, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Nah, I just slipped some Benadryl in his hot chocolate," Mulder joked.

Scully's eyes flew open. "Not funny," she scolded, as Mulder began to knead her shoulders, careful not to irritate the lingering pain that she had been ignoring since the accident. Although she never complained about it, Mulder knew exactly where

"You'll forgive me," he whispered in her ear, bending down to nip her sensitive spot, the one near her left shoulder.

The second surprise came when she stepped into their bedroom, noticing the lit candles Mulder had spread across the surfaces of the bureaus and night stands, along with the hint of sandalwood in the air. "Like it?" he asked, gently rubbing her dry with a terrycloth towel.

"It's beautiful," she said, surprised to find tears in her eyes.

"I wanted to make our first night in our home special," Mulder whispered, emphasizing the word 'our.' In the beginning of the summer, the Vineyard house had provided them all chance to connect; but as the weeks wore on, he had become all too aware of the temporary nature of the situation. What kept him grounded was the fact that Kyle needed a place to heal and work through his own feelings about everything that had transpired. Any frustration he felt about living in a place that carried both painful and wonderful memories was tempered by the fact that Mulder knew this was the place where his son needed to be.

Mulder also knew that Scully felt the same way, and he was in awe of the patience she had demonstrated over the summer; dealing with him and his mood swings, the awkward beginnings of parenthood, living in a house that didn't feel like her own; not to mention the host of difficulties surrounding the situation with her brother.

He was determined to do everything in his power to make sure that from the start, their new house was their home.

"I would have brought up a bottle of wine, but I didn't want it to go to waste. By my precise calculations, we have about two hours before we are interrupted by either a sobbing child or a demand for a dog," Mulder murmured. "Or did I just kill the mood?"

"No, but we better make the most of it," responded Scully, letting her towel drop to the floor.

XXXXX

As they had feared, Nathan had a nightmare, his cries echoing down the hallway. They stumbled out of bed, Mulder trying to ease the tension with a wry comment about not having gone for round three before they were interrupted.

"I don't know about you, Mulder, but I well passed round three," Scully casually replied as she pulled on one of his old academy t-shirts, throwing him a devastating smile as she opened the bedroom door.

Momentarily stunned, Mulder sat back on the bed for a few seconds. That was the kind of comment he had been longing to hear from her. Even after they first got together, it had taken longer than he would have liked to break down the last of her emotional barriers, to get them to a place where she felt comfortable enough to join him in countering his innuendo. They hadn't engaged in such witty bedroom wordplay since at least February. As they had worked bit by bit in repairing and rebuilding their relationship throughout the spring and summer, he had worried that things would never be the same between them, and that their easy banter was a relic of their past.

Although he knew that things never could be the same, he reasoned that they could certainly be better. One of his worst fears had been that they would only stay together because of the kids, despite the fact that they both swore that would never be a valid reason for them to remain a couple. Although he didn't doubt Scully's intentions, nor her love for him, it sometimes took a little moment, like what had just passed, to serve as a reminder that she was with him because she was in love with him, and that their relationship as life partners was working.

By the time Mulder entered Nathan's room, the boy's sobs had reached fever pitch, and he was clutching Woofy with one hand, with his arms slung over his mother. He immediately melded to Mulder's side when his father joined them on the bed. "Bad dream, buddy?" Mulder soothed, running his hand over Nathan's cheek, sticky with sweat. "You're okay. Nothing bad will happen." Scully took the opportunity to duck into the boys' bathroom, returning with a damp washcloth, hoping to cool Nathan down.

"I think the pull-ups leaked," Mulder pointed out, resulting in Nathan crying even harder. They had been toilet-training him over the past month, and he had been very excited about being a big boy.

"Get him in the bath," Scully ordered, easily sliding into doctor mom mode. "We need to bring down his temperature. He's working himself up into a sweat."

After forty-five minutes, a bath, diaper change, new pajamas, and fresh bedding, Nathan's sobs had finally softened into hiccups. "I wonder if he's sick," Scully fretted, smoothing down Nathan's curls as he slept between his parents in the master bedroom. "He's still warm. And he certainly was dehydrated," she said, motioning toward the abandoned tumbler of water sitting on the night stand.

"He doesn't do well with long car rides," Mulder pointed out. "It might not be a cold-or-flu sick, but he's probably working out some stress. Marathon road trip, new house, not sharing a bedroom. We knew this was going to happen, Scully. Don't overthink it. He's probably going to wake up tomorrow and not remember any of this."

Scully nodded, the concern in her face still apparent. "What was he dreaming about?"

The real question remained unsaid—was their little boy dreaming, or was he remembering something?

"We don't play that game, Scully," Mulder sternly reminded her. "We agreed."

She shook her head more vigorously. "I know," she mumbled. "Does it make me a bad parent that I hope he caught a bug?"

"Not at all," Mulder managed to smile. "Let's give it a few minutes before we bring him back to his room. We should only have a couple of more nights of this."

"Kyle had them too, right?" Scully asked, overwhelmed with the sudden need to be reassured.

"Until he was about six," remembered Mulder. "He never remembered his dreams. Most of the time, he didn't even remember that he had woken up."

"Remember our first night with him?" asked Scully, tracing the outline of Nathan's face.

"I'll never forget it," Mulder told her.

"He looks like a little boy now. The baby in him is almost all gone," she noted.

"He's still Nathan," Mulder responded tenderly. "He's still curious, and silly, and looks up with those wide eyes. He's going to keep us on our toes."

"We just can't let him know that last part," she said with a laugh. "Or we'll be in big trouble."

"I think you mean bigger trouble."

They put him back to bed together, silently looking at their son, who was finally slumbering peacefully, backlit by the nightlight in the corner of the room. They checked in on Will, who was snoring lightly, Doggy next to him on his pillow. "No temperature," Scully whispered as she felt her youngest son's brow.

"We're all safe," Mulder whispered in her ear, tugging her towards the door.

XXXXX

"So which will it be?' Scully mumbled, her back nestling into Mulder, her eyes still closed. They were both sleeping on their sides, spooned closely together. She snuck a peek at the clock. Too early.

"What do you mean?" Mulder asked, his voice wrapped in faux innocence. "Please be more specific."

"Morning run or morning sex?"

Mulder smiled, secure in the knowledge that the previous evening's sparring session hadn't just been Scully testing the waters. "Please elaborate."

Scully let out a throaty giggle. "Well, it depends on whether it's a home day or a work day," she began.

Mulder stiffened slightly. They had been avoiding talking about his first day back at the Bureau, which would take place later that week. Although they were in agreement that if the situation concerning her brother's trial had been different, she probably would have extended her leave to spend more time with the boys and to sort out childcare arrangements, they were both angry that the decision had been made for them.

"What's the difference?" he finally asked, pulling her closer.

"When we're home, sometimes when you wake up, and I feel you move, I know you're looking at the clock and are placing bets as to when Will gets up. If he's still down by 5:45 AM, you usually are in the clear to do what you want. If he's up, then you two go for a run. But when he's sleeping in, you usually stay here. Not always, but usually."

Mulder smiled. "It's 5:43 now," he said. "So I guess that means I have to figure out a new running route in the next two minutes."

Just as the clock flipped to 5:44, they heard rustling through the baby monitor, bracing themselves for Will's cries. He hated being trapped in the crib when he was ready to rock-and-roll. "I'm going to bring him in here," Mulder decided with a smile. "Since we're all up."

Scully grinned when Mulder dropped Will on to the bed between them, the baby reaching for his mother's nose. "Nathan's still fast asleep," Mulder reported. "But this little guy has no time for sleep."

"Did you like your new room, bullfrog?" Scully asked.

"Imba!"

"That's right, Simba is on your wall," she tickled his chin before landing back on her pillow. "I hope you want cereal for breakfast, buddy. I need to run to the grocery store. I don't even think we have any milk."

"Let's go out for breakfast," Mulder insisted as Will climbed up on his chest. "We can get out of here before the brunch crowd hits. Then we can worry about the grocery store."

Scully held her tongue, not wanting to dampen Mulder's excitement with a lecture about how Sunday afternoons were quite possibly the worst time to go food shopping. "I'll go to the store later this morning," she promised in her sweetest voice, looking up at him with an expectant look. "And maybe, if your multitasking skills are up to par, we'll be able to…test the locks on the office door during nap time?" She mouthed the last two words, not wanting to send Will into a tailspin; the mere suggestion of going down for nap tended to send either one of the toddlers into a tizzy.

Mulder gulped. "I'll definitely be able to at least clear the boxes off the couch," he managed to say. "I could even get that done before you go out."

"That's really all you need to do," Scully rushed. "Because you guys will be busy playing while I'm out. Maybe Daddy can help you find the box with the Duplos? And the blocks? Or are you guys just going to unpack the boxes and put everything on the floor?"

"Go boom!" Will chanted.

"That's your favorite part, huh slugger?" Mulder said, kissing the top of his son's head. "Making the blocks fall down. And look who woke up!"

Nathan rushed into the room, bouncing onto the bed. Scully smiled as he snuggled into her, beside Will and Mulder. She loved lazy mornings like this, and she knew that after Mulder went back to work, they would be few and far between. "How are you feeling, monkey?" Scully asked him, quickly feeling his forehead. "Are you sick?"

"No," Nathan smiled as he burrowed his face into a pillow, giggling as his father tickled him.

Scully relaxed, relieved to see him so animated. She settled back, watching the boys jump over each other and Mulder, not realizing that she had fallen back asleep until Nathan shook her awake. "Hungwy, Momma," he whined.

"So I guess that means we have to wake up your big brother," Mulder stage whispered, setting aside the book he had been reading to the boys. "But we have to be very quiet if we want to make it a surprise."

He climbed out of bed, a boy tucked under each arm, leaving Scully alone, relishing the hallway theatrics. Mulder had developed the (rather bad) habit of using his two youngest children to wake up his firstborn by unceremoniously dumping fifty pounds of toddler on the oversleeping pre-teen. Right on schedule, she heard a scream from the third floor, followed by a wail. She winced; the danger of the poke-the-bear game was always someone getting hurt by a flailing limb.

"Everybody okay?" she asked hesitantly as Mulder returned with a slightly sniffling Will in his arms, with Nathan close behind.

"Just a little bit of a kick," Mulder responded. "Will's a tough guy. Told Kyle we have to be out the door in twenty minutes. That gives us time to shower, and for me to clean off the couch."

"You certainly have your priorities straight, Mulder," Scully smirked as she pulled herself out of bed.

XXXXX

Mulder was unable to hide his surprise when Scully slipped her hand into his as they walked along M Street in search of a kid-friendly breakfast place. "Is this okay?" she nervously asked, unsure of how to interpret the deer-in-headlights look on his face.

"More than okay," he assured her, gripping the stroller tightly with his other hand. "I'm just, well, surprised. I think this is the first time you've held my hand in DC, at least in daylight."

Scully looked at the ground thoughtfully as Mulder stumbled through his speech. "I've always wanted to do this," she confessed, keeping her voice low, not quite wanting Kyle to overhear her. "I just didn't want to mess anything up for us by being reckless. Especially for you; everything was always on the line. Now, well, that can't happen."

Mulder felt everything fade away as he dwelled on Scully's words. He had always attributed her discretion to the high premium she put on her privacy; it had never crossed his mind that she was trying to protect him. He squeezed her hand, a gesture she immediately returned.

"This place has good food," Mulder mentioned as they waited to cross the street. "I've met Danny there. I don't think I've been there with you."

Scully nodded, knowing at what Mulder was hinting; her old apartment was far enough away from the townhouse that they wouldn't be apt to bump into anyone who would recognize them as a couple, especially after three months away. "Let's try it," she said, relaxing when she saw that they had a children's menu.

As Mulder predicted, the restaurant was only half-busy; a few couples were scattered among the smaller tables, and only one other family occupied a booth. Scully was impressed with the attentive service—within moments of being seated their orders were taken, crayons and placemats were put out for Nathan and Will, and a plate of toast appeared, tiding them over until they got their pancakes and waffles. She had to admit that this was much less stressful than slipping out to the grocery store before pandemonium broke.

"Are we doing anything fun today?" Kyle asked as he poured a disgusting amount of maple syrup onto his stack of chocolate chip pancakes.

"No," Mulder admitted, trying to be as honest as possible. "You need to make sure your book reports are in decent shape. You only have a couple of days of vacation left."

"So do you," the eleven-year-old pointed out. "That means we need to do something fun."

"If you go to the grocery store with me, your chances of getting decent snacks increases exponentially," Scully offered. "Or if that doesn't thrill you enough, you can go back to unpacking."

"I'll go with you," Kyle shrugged, turning his attention back to his pancakes.

Mulder was surprised that he agreed so readily; by his count, Kyle accepted about half of Scully's offers to do something with him outside the house. He snapped back to attention when he felt Nathan try to climb out of his booster seat in an attempt to reach for the maple syrup bottle. "Nice try, slugger," Mulder told his middle son, gently pulling him back down.

"I do," Nathan insisted.

"Daddy do," Mulder corrected, carefully pouring a minuscule amount of syrup onto the two-year-old's plate, before doing the same for Will, who was more interested in squeezing his waffle pieces instead of eating them.

"So can we do something fun tomorrow instead?" Kyle asked.

"We're going to the outlet mall," Scully remind him in between forkfuls of fruit salad. "Only for the morning. You need dress code clothes that fit, and these guys need some fall clothes."

"You grew about three inches this summer," Mulder commented, purposely leaving out Nathan and Will from his statement; Scully had been sensitive about how quickly they were sprouting up. "So I doubt anything you have from the spring will fit. And you need to get your haircut."

Kyle made a face. "But tomorrow's the last day of summer vacation."

"That was the deal," Mulder told his son. "We talked about this, Kyle. We stayed on the Vineyard until the last possible moment, and you said you were okay with the consequences. If we left last week, you would have more time before school started. Plus, you need to get your summer reading reports in order."

He quickly glanced at Scully, who gave him an encouraging look; a couple of months ago, he probably would have ended up apologizing to his son instead of pointing out that they had arrived at the decision together. Over the past few weeks, he had been very careful about keeping open lines of communication with Kyle, and to involve Scully in their discussions about family decisions. Mulder now knew not to take it personally that Kyle was now sulking, pushing his pancakes around with his fork; at the beginning of the summer, that wouldn't have been the case.

"If you finish your summer reading work this afternoon, we can do something tonight," Mulder suggested, only to be met by Kyle shrugging. Scully threw him a 'don't press it' look, and Mulder turned his attention to Nathan and Will, telling them all about the park in their neighborhood.

"I wanna go to beach," Nathan requested. "Swim!"

Scully groaned; of course, the only time her son had ever requested to go in the water would be when they were no longer anywhere near the ocean.

"Can't do that buddy," Mulder explained.

Nathan looked at his father with a perplexed expression. "Why?" the two-year-old ask, his face crumpling.

"We don't live near the beach anymore," Mulder gently explained to his son.

"Why?" Nathan's hazel eyes pierced those of his father.

Mulder tossed Scully a nervous look. "Because summer's all over, bud."

"Why?"

"How about we go to the park this afternoon? It has a big sandbox," Scully gently redirected the conversation.

"Okay," Nathan sighed rather dramatically, throwing his hands up in the air for a second, and then quickly turning his attention to playing with the maple syrup stuck on his plate.

Scully bit her lip, trying not to laugh. There had never been a question about Nathan's rather vibrant personality, and it was during moments like this that she knew he would always be surprising them with his expressions. As he was approaching his third birthday, his vocabulary was growing, as well as his penchant for mischief. She looked over to right, where Will was happily feeding himself his waffle while playing with some of his plastic farm animal toys, which were of course covered in maple syrup.

By the time they left the restaurant, the line for Sunday brunch was out the door. "We should do this every once in a while," Mulder told her as they stuck the kids in their stroller. Neither of them trusted Nathan where the sidewalks were narrow and crowded. He would be able to tire himself out in the park later. "Not too often, just enough to make it exciting for the kids. Sleeping in on Sunday mornings has its appeal too."

"It certainly does," she nodded in agreement.

"Did you want to go to church today?" Mulder asked her quietly. It was not lost on him that she hadn't gone to Mass once on the Vineyard, while she had made it a habit to attend once or twice a month prior to their trip. She had even gone one weekend when she had visited him and Kyle in New York, although Mulder expected that was more for Kyle's benefit than anything else.

"No," Scully shook her head, chewing her lip. She busied herself by fumbling through the diaper bag. "So grocery store, unpacking, lunch, nap, park, unpacking, dinner, unpacking?

Mulder gave her a long look. Signal sent and received; her abrupt change of subject spoke volumes. "That sounds like a game plan," he mumbled, trying to get a better read on her face. Despite her short answer, she didn't appear to be upset or otherwise stressed by the implication of his question. She must have sensed his hesitation, because she softly touched his elbow.

"It's fine," she said softly; only now, unlike the billions of other times she had uttered those words, she was smiling.

And so this time, he believed her. Relaxing, he entwined his left hand with her right, and together, with the children, they walked home.

Like any other family.

XXXXXX

As she strolled down the vegetable aisle at Safeway, Scully wondered whether she had ever bumped into someone she knew at the grocery store. As far as she could remember, the answer was no, and she immediately wondered whether that meant the odds of that happening now would increase or decrease. The thought of having to explain the rings on her left finger and the appearance of an eleven-year-old stepson caused waves of anxiety to wash over her. Although their marriage had been disclosed to the Bureau as part of Mulder's HR paperwork reinstating his return from leave, that knowledge would only be known to a handful of people, at least until his first day back later that week. Her concern wasn't their reputation; what worried her was Kyle picking up on any sense of conflict between them (especially Mulder), and the Bureau. Although she and Mulder had been eager to get back to DC, the one thing she would miss about the Vineyard was the relative anonymity that came with living there.

Scully knew that Kyle was waiting for them to get to the snack food aisle—or more specifically, whether she would notice the junk food he planned to sneak into the cart. It was the game that Mulder had taught him, which his son had quickly mastered. The perk for her, however, was that Kyle was much better than his father at following directions, at least in those that involved food. She handed him a slip of paper, and he immediately headed towards the dairy section. "I figured if we got done sooner, you would cave on the junk food," Kyle admitted as they stood in the checkout aisle, after she had thanked him for his help.

"Did I surprise you?" Scully drolly asked.

"I wasn't expecting the stuff to make cookies," Kyle told her. "And for the record, I didn't think you would really get ten packages Oreos."

"It was a good move to hide them under the chicken. But next time, don't go for the packaging that has sweepstakes information on it. Anyone could spot those cartoon characters from a mile away."

"Rookie mistake," Kyle shook his head, prompting Scully to laugh. It wasn't until she pulled out of the parking lot that she realized that they were safe; they hadn't bumped into anyone they knew.

XXXXXX

They had certainly made the most of nap time. Mulder had practically shoved her into the first-floor room they had earmarked as a study once she reappeared downstairs after putting the boys down in their bedrooms, immediately pulling her into a searing kiss. While their appetite for sex had always been healthy, it had suddenly grown to borderline insatiable. While Scully tried not to psychoanalyze it death, she did partially attribute it to both of them needing to be constantly reassured that the other was there.

"Is it just me, or has it been getting more intense?" Mulder asked, completely winded, as they rearranged themselves on the couch.

"Are you lodging an official complaint?" Scully joked, tracing random patters on Mulder's side.

He bent down to kiss the hollow of her neck. "Furthest thing from it," he promised with a throaty whisper. "We have a lot of furniture to cover in this place, Scully."

To his delight, she let out a hearty laugh.

"We have time," Mulder promised when he realized she was getting up. "Let's just stay as long as we can."

"What if—"

"He's finishing his book reports. I let him use the laptop," Mulder explained. "We probably won't see him until dinner."

"You bribed him?" Scully scoffed.

"I provided an incentive," corrected Mulder. "And a reminder that if he really wants a dog, he needs to be responsible."

"That line's not going to work for too much longer," Scully told him.

"I know," groaned Mulder. "The timing isn't great."

"It's never great," pointed out Scully. "But if I'm going to be home for a few months, it make sense to get one now, especially if we're adopting a puppy."

"I don't want to walk through the Hoover building without you," Mulder said his tone growing serious.

"Promise me, Mulder," Scully said, wide-eyed. "That you won't go off the rails at work. If you want to get the X-Files back, you need to play by the Bureau's rules."

"I know I've had self-destructive tendencies in the past, Scully," Mulder assured her. "But it's going to be different this time. I have you, and three incredibly important reasons upstairs. I need to be a better role model. I'm not going to do anything that will put any of you in jeopardy. It's going to be hard knowing you aren't in the building, I'm not going to lie. But I know what I need to get done."

Scully nodded, pressing her lips to his outstretched hand. "I'm still going to be here, Mulder."

"I know," he responded intently. "Are you going to be okay?"

"We've been over this, Mulder," Scully sighed. "I'm fine with the fact that I'll be here for Nathan and Will. It's going to take a while to find a preschool, daycare, whatever they're calling it these days. Nathan just missed the birthday cut off, but he's smart and hopefully we'll get the top of a waiting list, and something will open up after the holidays. And I would feel better if they were home instead of at a school when the trial starts. I don't want a repeat of what happened this summer."

"I could extend my leave," Mulder said quietly. "If you want me to, I'll do it."

"Mulder," Scully said, biting her lip. "You don't have to do that. I know that a part of you misses work, and let's face it, you're starting to get bored.""No I'm not," Mulder began to protest before bending down to kiss her. "I'm lying. You're right. But promise me something, Scull."

"What?"

"That you'll tell me when you need a break," said Mulder. "And that you'll take some time for yourself. You get so wrapped up into whatever craziness we're dealing with, that you don't get any rest."

"I promise," Scully said. "As long as you don't feel guilty for the way things have been panned out."

XXXXXX

The rest of the afternoon flew by, as they tried to unpack and reassemble as much as possible with toddlers who were constantly moving things around on them. Mulder took the kids to the park to give Scully some space to get the kitchen in order; they had gotten takeout the night before, and if they wanted any dinner, she needed to clean up. The sunny room included a breakfast nook where she set up some toys for Nathan and Will, including a magnetic board with alphabet magnets. Additionally, one of its walls had been coated with chalkboard paint, all designed so she could keep an eye on them when couldn't wait to see them try it out—she reminded herself to double check that they had chalk stashed somewhere. After forty-five minutes, she realized she gotten as much done as she could, and in much better time than expected, so she decided to meet her boys at the park.

The playground, which included a basketball court and a small field used for little league games, was a block away, and certainly made up for their postage-sized backyard. It had recently been renovated, and had a tot lot in addition to a complicated jungle gym intended for older children. She suspected that neither Nathan nor Will would be content with equipment intended for the under-five set for very long, and she couldn't help but envision an incredible number of accident scenarios that popped into her head.

"You're here," Mulder broke out into a huge grin when he saw her unlatch the gate.

"I missed you guys," Scully said, as he gave a quick kiss, before she tickled both children, who were sitting on swings.

"Dad, can you play with me now?" Kyle called out from the basketball court.

"Go," Scully smiled as she took over pushing the boys.

"More!" Nathan's request was quickly repeated by Will. Their giggles filled the air as they swung higher and higher; despite having rather short attention spans, both of them loved swinging. After twenty minutes, they finally got bored, and made their way to the slide. Soon they were running around with some other kids about their age.

"Okay guys, it's time for some more sunscreen," Scully instructed.

"No!" Will cried.

"It will just take a second. And then you can have some juice and animal crackers," said Scully. She set them both on a bench, ignoring their cries as she smothered them with Coppertone. She hadn't realized how loud they were until she looked up and saw another woman, with a little boy and girl about Will's age, give her a sympathetic smile.

"I don't even hear it anymore," Scully called out as she fumbled through the diaper bag for the snacks.

"It becomes white noise after a while," the other mother agreed. "I'm Kate."

"Dana," Scully introduced herself, before turning to the boys. "Do you guys want to share your snacks with them?"

"No, I want," Nathan said with a worried expression on his face.

"There's enough for everyone," Scully patiently reminded her son.

"Okay," he happily agreed, taking the baggie and toddling over to the other children.

To her relief, the four kids seemed to be getting along, playing in the sandbox while she conversed with Kate. Scully answered her questions vaguely, while trying to be as friendly as possible. She glossed over the details, but explained that they had just moved to Georgetown, hinting that they had previously been in Arlington. When Kate asked what she did, Scully immediately answered that she was a medical doctor, something that she hadn't done since her residency. While she found their conversation to be absolutely boring, she knew that she needed the practice. She couldn't imagine the expression that was on her face, but after making eye contact with Mulder, he immediately stopped his game with Kyle, and walked over to them.

"How bad was it?" Mulder asked as they walked home. After a big swig of Gatorade, he passed the bottle to Kyle.

Scully shrugged. "Okay, I guess. I just hate small talk. She was going on about the preschool that her kids are going to; they put down their deposit once they hit ten months old. She basically laughed at me when I told her we weren't on any waiting lists yet."

"If that's how it went, she must be incredibly insecure, Scully," Mulder pointed out. "It's only our first full day. We're bound to meet more tolerable parents at the park."

Scully snapped her head around, giving Mulder an incredulous look.

"Or not," he grinned.

XXXXXXXX

The next morning, as they all piled into the SUV, Mulder shuddered at the thought of going to an outlet mall on Labor Day. He had tried convincing Scully the night before that she should go with Kyle, and he would hold down the fort, but she pointed out that she needed the boys to at least try on a couple of items so she could get the sizing right. "Ten minutes, Mulder. I have them try on a couple of things each, and once I size it out, you can take them outside and do what ever you want to do. If we leave early, we get there early, and beat the crowd. Remember, I hate shopping as much as you do. It's a small, outdoor mall."

"It's a terrible idea," Mulder had argued, even though he had nothing to back up his statement except for the fact that he didn't want to go.

"I'll bribe you," Scully had countered with a sultry look.

And so he had caved.

Fox Mulder had officially been domesticated, powerless against the prospect of sex…and he didn't want it any other way.

Getting the kids settled in the stroller had been a challenge. While Scully had managed to get them both strapped in, as soon as they split up, so she could get Kyle situated with school clothes, Nathan had managed to jump out of the stroller. Mulder flinched as he saw his son hit the concrete but the two-year-old simply picked himself up and made a run for it, his father in close pursuit. He finally got a hold of Nathan's hand, and directing them to a bench next to the requisite faux waterfall that seemed to have been built into every shopping center in America.

"Out!" Will kept crying, struggling against the stroller.

"Sorry, slugger," Mulder said, bending down to tickle his youngest son. It was during moments like this that made him excited to get back to work. He fished some crackers out of the diaper bag, and gave both boys a snack as his phone began to ring.

"We're done," Scully said breathlessly.

"Already?" Mulder was confused. When he had last taken his son out clothes shopping for school, it had been a tortured, time consuming affair. Granted, he had spent a majority of the time trying to figure out whether khakis were included in the dress code policy, and what exactly was meant by a collared shirt.

"Yup. When you have a system, Mulder, these tasks don't seem like chores," she explained for what she felt was the zillionth time. "Meet us at Gymboree."

Just as she had promised, she got the kids in and out of a few items before sending them back outside with their father. Mulder let the kids out of the stroller, making sure that Will held Kyle's hand, while he tried to corral Nathan himself. Scully had given him directions to the small playground by the food court, but Mulder hadn't quite been paying as much attention as he should have. Although the outdoor mall wasn't large, he somehow managed to lead them around in circles.

"Dad, it's this way," called out Kyle impatiently.

"How do you know that?" Mulder asked. "This is your first time here."

"I'm just following directions," the eleven-year-old retorted, tugging Will's hand. "She said take a left at the Gap."

"But that's what we did," a puzzled and flustered Mulder protested.

"That's Gap Kids. It's different."

Mulder shook his head as he picked up Nathan, who kept trying to slip out of his grasp. Although Mulder hated seeing kids with leash-type contraptions, he now understood their necessity, and wondered where he could procure one. By the time he caught up with Kyle and Will, he could see the play area. He was just about to put Nathan down, when he caught something at the corner of his eye.

He froze. "Kyle," he said softly but firmly. "Go in that store. Now."

"What?" Kyle asked. "Why do we need to go to here?"

"Take Nathan's hand, and go in that store," Mulder instructed, setting the stroller against the building, keeping his eye on a pair of women who had entered the shop opposite. "I'll be right back."

Mulder adjusted his sunglasses and casually walked by the children's shoe store, pretending to make a phone call. Once his curiosity was satisfied, he returned to the stroller, sifting through the diaper bag until the women exited the shop. When he realized that they were walking in the opposite direction of the parking lot, he quickly called Scully.

"Are you almost done?"

"I'm in line now," Scully said. "I got a ton of stuff."

"When you're done, show your badge and exit the back of the store," instructed Mulder.

"What's wrong?" she asked sharply.

"Your mother is here."


	28. Chapter Twenty Seven

**A/N: Here's the next chapter! Hopefully the length makes up for the long length between posts. Hope you enjoy it!**

"What?" Scully was straining to hear Mulder through the muzak blaring throughout the store.

"I just saw your mother," Mulder breathlessly whispered as he tried to keep an eye on the kids through the store window. "She didn't see us…Scully, are you there?"

"I'm still here. I—I need to pay, Mulder," Scully muttered as she ended the call. "I'll meet you at the car."

"Fuck," Mulder cursed as he hustled the kids out of the store.

"What's going on?" Kyle asked, confused, as his father bundled his brothers into the stroller. "Why are we going this way?"

"We're leaving," Mulder said as he pointed the stroller towards the direction of the parking lot.

"But you said we could get lunch here," whined Kyle. He was hot, hungry, tired, and bored, with the dread of the new school year looming over him. All he wanted was food and air conditioning, in that order.

"We'll get lunch somewhere else," Mulder promised, trying to ignore his younger sons' cries; they were clearly unhappy about being trapped in a stroller, especially since they were promised a park.

Kyle stopped short, causing his father to turn around. "We need to get going," Mulder gruffly explained.

"Something's wrong, isn't it?" Kyle asked, a look of panic crossing his face.

"I'll explain in the car," responded Mulder, who kept walking until he realized that his oldest son was not following him. He briskly walked towards Kyle, pulling him back towards the stroller, hoping that Nathan wouldn't try to jump out in the interim. Kyle shoved him away, but thankfully kept walking.

"I saw Dana's mother," Mulder said quietly. "So we need to leave."

"Why?"

"For a lot of reasons. We aren't supposed to have any contact with her before the trial. Plus, Scully—she's not ready to talk to her quite yet. It's complicated."

Mulder looked at his son helplessly; despite the fact that he was trying to choose his words carefully, he knew that his son was probably thinking about his own relationship with Diana. "Let's get moving."

XXXXX

Scully met them at the car, just as Mulder was loading the stroller in the trunk of the SUV. "Are you okay?" Mulder asked her.

"Let's just get out of here," Scully responded, avoiding the question as she wedged the shopping bags beside the carriage.

"She didn't see them," Mulder whispered as he shut the trunk, trying, but failing, to look Scully in the eye.

"Let's go home," Scully told him, squeezing his hand briefly. As much as she wanted to be alone with her thoughts, she knew that she needed to give Mulder some sort of signal that she wasn't completely catatonic about the situation.

She barely spoke at lunch, only somewhat listening to Mulder and Kyle's conversation about the latest attempt to trap the Loch Ness monster, an item that had been mentioned in that morning's newspaper. She busied herself with the younger kids, cutting up their grilled cheese sandwiches, thinking about mundane matters, such as what time she should start making dinner, and how many boxes she could potentially unpack that evening. She pretended to sleep during the car ride home, trying to ignore the nervous glances that Mulder was tossing in her direction.

"What room should we tackle next?" Mulder asked her as she shut the door to Nathan's room, having put both kids down for their afternoon naps.

"Watch the baseball game with Kyle," she protested. "He sounded excited about it, plus it's his last day of summer vacation."

"So I guess you weren't sleeping in the car." His words sounded more like an accusation than a statement of fact.

"Only a little bit," Scully admitted, turning towards the master suite, not ready for a confrontation with her partner. "I'm just going to clear a few boxes from our room."

"Scully?"

"What, Mulder?" asked Scully, hand on her hip, an underlying tone of testiness in her voice.

"Are you okay?"

"No," she honestly answered. "I don't know who I am anymore, Mulder. I never used to be the person who hides—especially from her own mother."

With that, she walked towards the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Mulder stared wordlessly at the closed door before realizing that Kyle was at the top of the staircase, doing the same thing.

XXXXX

Scully wasn't sure whether she had succeeded in cleaning up the bedroom, or if she had instead just moved the assorted piles around the room. The only thing she had unpacked prior to that afternoon was the framed photo of the four children that Mulder had given her earlier that summer, which she had put on her bedside table, just as she had on the Vineyard. She set her attention to clearing out the boxes from her old apartment; mostly sifting through some old papers, putting aside files earmarked for the locked cabinet in the downstairs study, and another pile for shredding. When she noticed the time, she popped her head in the boys' rooms, her heart racing for a moment when she realized that they were both empty. Instinctively, she ran downstairs, relieved to find Nathan on the floor of the living room, playing with his train set, and Will playing with his blocks.

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear them," she explained as Mulder left his perch on the sofa, walking towards her.

"Don't apologize," he shook his head, cocking his head towards the kitchen. "Kyle can sit with them for a bit."

"Mulder, you know I'm angry at the situation, not at you, right?" Scully asked after seeing the expression of concern plastered on his face.

"I know," promised Mulder. "I'm just worried about you. Scully, for what it's worth, I don't think that you are hiding. Preston advised us to not put ourselves in a situation in which we have any contact with her, at least before the trial ends."

"But even if she walked through that door right now, Mulder, I don't know whether I would be able to say anything," protested Scully. "And that bothers me."

"And that's alright," he quickly responded, clasping her shoulders. "Seriously, Scully, it's okay to not know how to feel in this situation."

She nodded, pressing her forehead against Mulder's. "I better get dinner started," she said. "I thought I would make Kyle's favorite."

"Roast beef with your creamy mashed potatoes?"

"Yeah," she smiled. "I don't think he's too thrilled about going back to school tomorrow. I thought it would be a nice surprise."

"I won't tell him," Mulder vowed, kissing the top of her head. "It might make up for the hair cut that he's getting. I'm pretty sure that he thinks I forgot. Do you want me to bring Will and Nathan?"

"They could use cuts too," Scully said. "We could all go. Just give me some time to get the meat in the oven."

"Sure," Mulder responded. So much for his plan to give Scully some time to herself—he should have known that the last thing she wanted to do was to be alone with her thoughts.

XXXX

Scully would never admit it out loud, but a certain sadness swell over her when she saw Nathan's curly locks shorn to a more closely cropped look. After watching his father and older brother get their hair cut, he announced that he wanted to be just like Daddy. She knew her feelings were silly, and that Nathan's hair would grow back rather quickly, but it was for her hard to wrap her head around how fast all of three boys had grown over the past few months.

"You made my favorite?"

Scully turned around from her position at the stove, where she was finishing up the mashed potatoes. "Of course, you have your first day of school tomorrow," she smiled, even though she knew her statement didn't make much sense. Making a big meal was something her own mother always did, and based on that experience, the connection between Sunday dinner and the beginning of the school year made perfect sense to her; however, saying it out loud reinforced how silly it sounded—and served as a reminder of the rift with her family. Perhaps she had been thinking of her parents more than she wanted to admit.

"Thanks," Kyle shyly smiled. "Can I help?"

"Of course," Scully said, a little taken aback; while he had often loaded the dishwasher without being asked, the only time Kyle had ever expressed interest in cooking was the one time they had made pancakes together. "Do you want to mash? It's kind of fun."

"You're only doing that because you don't want to set the table," Mulder joked as he entered the kitchen. "Everyone abandoned me."

Scully looked around; Nathan and Will were in the breakfast nook, uncharacteristically quiet, occupied with the alphabet magnets. Scully noticed that Mulder frowned as he caught his reflection in the microwave. "It's going to take some getting used to," she commented.

"I look like a goddamned FBI agent," Mulder muttered, playing with his hair.

"You still have two whole days, Dad," protested Kyle. "I have fourteen hours."

"But you don't have to deal with Kersh," Mulder called out as he began flipping through the cabinets, trying to find the plates, before Scully directed him to the correct place. "Or human resources."

"We can trade."

"Not on your life."

Their banter continued throughout dinner, and unlike lunch, Scully fully participated in their conversation, shooting down Mulder's theories about the Loch Ness monster, which led to a vibrant conversation about Queequag's demise in Georgia. "When are we getting a dog?" Kyle quickly asked, closely watching the looks Mulder and Scully were exchanging as soon as they realizded that they had been tricked into talking about her dead pet.

"Let's get settled in first," Mulder said carefully.

"We won't be able to bring the puppy home until it's old enough to be separated from its mother, so we need to start looking now," argued Kyle. "So that means you need to set up the internet."

"Oh does it?" playfully scoffed Mulder.

"You said yesterday that you needed to get it up before you went back to work."

Mulder sighed—he had been caught. "Langly's coming by tomorrow to do some work on that and the cable," he explained. "So we can start searching, but schoolwork comes first."

Kyle let out a triumphant smile. "Puppy!" he cheered.

"Puppy?" Nathan repeated quizzically.

Scully slid her face in her hands as all three kids began to chant.

"No puppy if you keep this up," Mulder finally bellowed, prompting Will to burst into tears.

"You made him cry. That's mean!" Kyle called out. "You're taking a puppy away from a baby."

"Dishes, now," muttered a defeated Mulder, giving Scully a forlorn look. "I guess we walked into that one."

"We?" Scully asked, eyebrows arched, as she pulled Will out of his highchair and onto her lap, wiping the tears off his face.

XXXXX

Scully let Mulder calm the toddlers down, despite his protests that he was happy to clean up the kitchen instead. "Do you want me to make you a sandwich for lunch?" she asked.

Kyle looked at her, surprised. "Okay," he shrugged. "There's a cafeteria, so I figured I would just buy. That's what I used to do."

Scully knew that Mulder gave Kyle some sort of allowance, but she had never asked about the specifics. "Save your money," she said. "Or if there is something you see that looks good, get it, and you'll have this as backup. The sandwich will keep with the icepack."

"But I don't have a lunch bag," protested Kyle.

"We have a few," Scully said, fumbling through one of the cabinets. "Do you want the red one, or the blue?"

"Red," Kyle decided. "Is it really okay?"

"Of course," Scully told him, trying to figure out why he was so hesitant. "This one is insulated, so the icepack will keep the food really cold all day. And it folds up so it won't take up too much room in your book bag coming home from school."

Mulder, with a now calm Nathan and Will in his arms, stopped in the doorframe of the kitchen, watching Scully help Kyle pack his lunch for the next day. She looked up and caught his gaze, and he mouthed 'thank you.' He knew that Scully had no idea that this was probably the first time in years that someone had done this for the eleven-year-old. Diana had never been very domestic, and she hated to cook. When Kyle was younger, he had a nanny who took care of his meals; although Mulder thought she had been a wonderful caregiver, he knew first hand that it was different than doing something with a parent.

He stood back from the doorway, not quite wanting to leave the scene, but also wanting to give his partner and son some time alone.

"Dana?" he heard Kyle say in a small voice. "I'm glad you aren't sad anymore."

Scully bit her lip, her face crumpling. "I can never be sad for long when I'm around you and your dad and your brothers."

Mulder blinked away the tears that were forming in his eyes, and quietly turned to go upstairs, not wanting to intrude on their moment.

XXXXX

"I think you're more nervous than he is," Scully told Mulder the next morning, after he had dropped Kyle off for the first day of school.

"Me? I'm never nervous," Mulder joked, pouring himself another cup of coffee.

"What do you want to do for your last day of summer vacation?" Scully asked him as she poured more Cheerios in Will's bowl. "Just keeping in mind that nap time is at least six hours away."

Mulder pouted as she continued, rolling her eyes at her partner's downcast face.

"Would it be too weird to go to the zoo without Kyle? I thought it would be fun for the kids, but I wanted to test drive the trip with you," Scully suggested.

Both boys were in their element at the Washington Zoo; Nathan loved seeing real monkeys, and spent quite a bit of time (at least in Nathan terms) picking out which one was Curious George. Will was amazed by the giraffe, and cried when they had to leave. Mulder had wanted to get them the balloons they kept pointing to, but Scully had warned him if they did it once, they would expect it the next time, and she was hoping to visit fairly often. When Mulder excused himself for a moment, claiming to go to the bathroom but walking in the opposite direction of the nearest restroom, she knew that he was up to something. Her suspicions were confirmed when she spotted a not-so discreetly placed bag in the trunk of the SUV as they were packing up to leave. "We can't be spoiling them," she hissed quietly, eyeing him with a stern look.

"Relax, Scully," said Mulder defensively. As soon as he had spotted the stuffed animals through the gift shop window, he decided to buy them, even though he knew that she might not be completely on board.

"Let me have some fun, Scully. It's my last day of summer vacation."

"Mulder," Scully complained. "We can't spoil them."

"This isn't spoiling them, Scully," he argued, his voice growing testy. "They really just have the basics—for crying out loud, we had to go out and get them long sleeved shirts yesterday because they didn't have any. I really don't need your permission to get things for my own kids. And if I really was going to give them to the boys today, I wouldn't have hid them in the trunk. "

Scully was 95% sure that his last line was bullshit, but she hesitated in replying, needing to weigh her options on calling him out on it, right then and there, in the zoo parking lot of all places. Mulder held her gaze, not wanting to back down either. "Fine," she sighed, turning on her heels and climbing into the car.

XXXXX

"We need to talk," Mulder said as he entered the kitchen, where Scully was cleaning up lunch. He had just put the boys down for their naps, and was determined to clear the air between them before the kids woke up.

"I guess we do," Scully agreed, putting the last of the plates into the dishwasher. "Mulder, I feel like I'm always the bad guy."

"This isn't about being the bad guy, or even the good guy for that matter," explained Mulder. "I get the balloon thing. But I don't think that either of us are very materialistic, if that is what you are worried about…What exactly are you worried about, Scully?"

Scully leaned back on the kitchen counter, gripping the edge so tightly that her knuckles were turning white. "I just worry that we'll fall into this trap that I see so many other parents fall into," she mumbled, her thoughts disjointed.

"What trap?" Mulder asked quietly, knowing that she was having a hard time expressing her thoughts. Their rhythm had been off since the near-miss with her mother the day before; he wasn't sure how much of the tension between them actually had to do with different parenting philosophies.

"I love Charlie, but I see him do this, and it drives me crazy. He gets caught up into his work without a second thought, and the kids miss out, so he buys them stuff. I just always swore to myself that I wouldn't do the same," she said, looking down at the floor.

It wasn't until he noticed that her face flushed red, the telltale sign that she was embarrassed. It took a moment for him to process, but once he did, he immediately realized why she had held off on saying anything at all: She didn't want to imply that she was actually talking about his relationship with Kyle.

"I'm not—" she cut herself off before trying again.

"Scully, we both want our kids to get their sense of love and security from us, not their things," Mulder reasoned. "But there is a difference between spoiling them and giving them things that express our love. I know we grew up with different backgrounds, but I know that even though I never wanted for anything materially, I only ever really wanted to spend time with my parents, my dad especially. He got me a baseball bat and glove for my birthday one year. I was so excited, I slept with the glove under my pillow for weeks. I thought it meant that me and my dad would play together more often, and while that didn't pan out, my favorite memories of him are definitely when we played catch together."

Scully smiled, happy that despite everything that happened to him as a child, he still had positive memories of his father. "When I was three or four, I kept asking my Dad why he had to go away," she shared quietly. "I was having a hard time with it. So he got me this teddy bear, and he told me that if I needed to tell him anything, I could tell the bear, and he would get the message."

"Did you believe him?" Mulder asked teasingly, picturing a three-year-old Scully toddling around with a teddy bear, whispering to it when she was supposed to be sleeping instead.

"For a little while," Scully shrugged. "But then my brother laid it all out for me one day. Maybe I have him to thank for being a skeptic."

Mulder's heart broke a little, as he added that memory to the list of things for which he wanted to hurt Bill.

"I'm sorry that I snapped at you earlier," Scully said. "I should have trusted your judgement. I don't want this tension between us, especially when we really want the same thing."

"I do tend to get carried away," admitted Mulder, pulling her into an embrace. "But I also take advantage of the fact that I know you'll keep me in line, and I'll try and be better about that."

"As long as you remind me to let go a little," she murmured as she sank into his chest, relieved that they got through their discussion in one piece.

"I know that this wasn't easy for you to talk about," he whispered into her ear. "And I want to do whatever I can to help you with that."

"You don't make it harder," insisted Scully. "That's all on me, Mulder. I do it to myself."

With that, she gave him a little squeeze, and wandered out of the kitchen, leaving a slightly stunned Mulder in a daze.

XXXXX

"You didn't have to get up early," Mulder protested as he entered the kitchen with Will on his hip, dripping with sweat. They had gone on a four mile run despite the lingering DC humidity. After a restless night, he had finally gotten out of bed at five, taking the baby with him. The streets were surprisingly empty at that hour, and he had no trouble maneuvering the narrow sidewalks with the jogging stroller.

"It's really not that early," Scully explained, as she poured two cups of coffee, trying her best to pretend that she wasn't anxious about her partner's first day back at work. "And I wanted to. I even got to read the first couple of pages of the newspaper. Nathan's still asleep and Kyle hasn't made an appearance yet."

By the time Mulder re-emerged downstairs after a long shower, all three kids were at the table eating breakfast, as Scully was cutting up some apple slices by the sink. She audibly gasped when she first glimpsed Mulder in his suit—it was one of his Armanis that she hadn't seen in months; that, along with his yet-to-fade tan and fresh haircut made her weak at the knees. And judging by the saucy grin he had thrown in her direction, he knew it too.

"I wanna go," Nathan pronounced as he saw his older brother and father get ready to leave fifteen minutes later.

"Sorry, buddy," Mulder told him, kneeling beside him. "I'm going to work. You wouldn't like it."

"I wanna go," he stubbornly insisted, pouting.

"We'll do something fun when I come home, okay?"

"No!" the toddler wailed.

Scully and Mulder exchanged nervous glances. Although Nathan hadn't had a nightmare the previous evening, he was clearly still adjusting to all of the change and excitement from the past several days.

"I'll be home right before we have dinner," Mulder promised the two-year-old. "And you know what? I want to show you something."

Mulder led both boys to the window seat in the front entryway of the house. "Just wait here, okay?"

A couple of minutes later, Mulder had pulled the car out of its space in the driveway in the back of the house, and had swung out front, slowing to a stop. He hit the horn and both him and Kyle waved, with the boys pointing and waving in return. Nathan's tears had stopped, but he uncharacteristically stayed sitting on the window seat with Woofy, his chubby hands and face pressed against the glass.

XXXXXX

Ken from security flagged Mulder as he entered the Hoover building for the first time since May. "AD Skinner wants to see you immediately."

"Not Kersh?"

Ken shrugged.

Mulder wallowed in his unease as he made his way to the assistant director's office. It was early enough that most of the bullpen would be grabbing their morning coffee, so he only met a few people, returning their nods while self-consciously slipping his left hand deeper into his suit pocket. He sighed with relief once he reached the relative safety of Skinner's office. While he was in no way ashamed of his marriage, he needed to buy some time before the water cooler gossip began.

"He's in," Kimberly smiled. "And you are on time for a change. Quite impressive for your first day back."

"I'm a new man," Mulder deadpanned as he entered Skinner's inner sanctum, flopping onto one of the chairs opposite Skinner's desk.

"Don't look so thrilled, Mulder. You are still technically working in AD Kersh's division. He, however, is at a conference, so I have the distinct pleasure of welcoming you back to the Bureau."

Mulder nodded. "So wiretap duty?"

"Violent crime," corrected Skinner, leaning into his desk, pen in hand, as Mulder grimaced. "Hear me out, Mulder. I'm doing this as a favor to you. I know that on a good day, the rumor mill is spinning. By getting you away from the bullpen, that will at least slow it down. And if you play your cards right, I might be able to do something about the X-Files come January 1."

Mulder mulled Skinner's words, considering the possibility of working with Scully on the X-Files in a few short months. It wouldn't be the same as it had been before, but it would be better than watching Spender and whoever the poor soul he was currently partnered with drive his work into the ground.

"You will have a temporary partner," Skinner continued, forcing Mulder to abandon his thoughts. "Christopher Addison."

"He's back at HQ?" Mulder asked, surprised. He and Addison and started out together at Quantico, and both had been assigned to Patterson's unit in Violent Crimes; while Mulder had flourished as a profiler, Addison had burnt out after a couple of years, finally requesting a transfer. The last Mulder knew, Addison was out in the Chicago field office, climbing the administrative ladder as its acting special-agent-in-charge. Things could have been a lot worse; they had always gotten along, and for a long time, Addison had been his only ally besides Reggie Perdue. "What happened?"

"I'm sure you'll hear it straight from the horse's mouth," Skinner continued. "You have quite a bit of paperwork from human resources to sign before you get your service weapon back. To keep the water cooler chatter to a minimum, Holly from records will be stepping in to work with you to get all of that sorted. She's discreet, so you'll get a few days before your personal information becomes public knowledge."

"I appreciate that, sir," Mulder said, his tone sincere.

"I know the trial is in a few weeks," began Skinner, still twirling his pen in his hand. "How is Agent Scully holding up?"

"Her name's been kept out, that's enough for us," Mulder guardedly told the AD, wondering whether Skinner was fishing for information, or if he was trying to offer it instead.

"I'll let you get to it," said Skinner, standing up. "Kersh is back in two weeks. Try and stay out of trouble until then. And Agent Mulder? This change in assignment came straight from Senator Mathison's office."

As head headed towards Holly's office, Mulder wasn't as lucky in avoiding the whispers and stares of his other agents and secretarial pool. He self-consciously kept his hands in his pockets, practically slinking towards the elevator. However, his mind wasn't focused on the possible gossip; something larger was at play if Mathison had a hand in his return to casework from the death valley that was wiretap detail.

He groaned as he saw the mountain of paperwork that emerged from Holly's desk. She patiently walked him through everything, flagging those forms that would require Scully's signature. Between the medical, dental, and life insurance policies, there would be dozens of papers laying out the boys' names and dates of birth. Holly assured him of her discretion multiple times, and although he had no reason to doubt her, his anxiety was still apparent. "Take all of these home tonight," she told him as their meeting broke. "That way you'll have the only copy with you until Agent Scully looks everything over. Just don't lose them, or else we'll be doing this again tomorrow."

He nodded his thanks, knowing that her suggestion was a breach of protocol. "She can call me with any questions," Holly said, sliding her business card into the manila envelope.

XXXX

Mulder's first thought was that his Academy buddy looked old, and not just in the hair thinner and greyer manner-of-speaking. Christopher Addison looked exhausted, and must have known so, judging by his greeting. "You were always the beauty pageant winner, Mulder," Addison said with a laugh, clasping his shoulder.

"What brings you back to these parts?" Mulder asked, trying to be as casual as possible. "I heard you were on the assistant director track."

Addison tensed for a split second. "Divorce," he finally shrugged.

"You and Olivia?"

"You and Diana?"

"Touche," Mulder murmured.

They eyed one another with mock suspicion until they both broke out into laughter, the tension having immediately dissipated.

XXXXX

Nathan moped on the window seat until it was time for them to leave for the local library story hour. He was back to his chipper, boisterous self by craft time, and he insisted on decorating his pirate hat by himself, pushing his mother's hand away. During their walk home, they passed by a local preschool, where students were eating at a picnic table in the fenced-in yard. Scully stopped the stroller, and stood next to Nathan, pointing. "Do you think you want to go to school like these kids? And have a backpack and lunchbox? You'll make some new friends."

Nathan looked at the scene in front of him wild mild interest. "Woofy?"

"I'm sure Woofy can go too," Scully smiled. As much as she wanted Nathan to get used to the idea of preschool, she wasn't quite ready to see him go yet. In the corner of her eye, she noticed more than a few stuffed animals sitting with their owners, so Nathan should have nothing to worry about in that department.

After settling the boys into their naps, Scully began to start calling neighborhood daycares and preschools when the phone rang. "Hi Preston," she said after looking at the caller ID. "Mulder went back to work today."

"It's actually you I needed to speak with," Preston responded. "An old colleague of your father got wind of the case, and wanted to speak with you. Your brother's attorney referred him to me."

"Who?" Scully asked suspiciously.

"Admiral Thomas Maxwell," continued Preston. "Name mean ring a bell?"

"No," Scully frowned. "Did he say where he knew my father from?"

"Just that they worked together in Annapolis, which concerns me, because as we discussed, your father was never actually stationed there. He checks out on paper, at least. He retired about six years ago. The Gunmen are doing some background work, just to be on the safe side. I didn't tell him where you were living or anything, but keep an eye out, okay? Think about it, we'll see what Byers and Langly come up with, and if you want, I'll put you in touch."

"I appreciate the call," Scully said, lost in thought. "I'll let you know."

"And one other thing," Preston rushed. "We're filing a pre-trial motion tomorrow for a gag order on the case—no more media interviews. Even if the judge doesn't grant it, your name will still be kept out of anything that runs on air or in print. I don't expect a ruling until early next week, but I'll keep you informed."

Scully grimaced as she hung up the phone. In August, Preston and his team successfully won an injunction, preventing the press from disclosing her name and occupation,with the argument that otherwise, her work with the Bureau could become compromised. The ruling came down only hours before a news magazine interview with her mother had been scheduled to air, forcing the network to make extensive edits. During the interview, Scully had only been identified in passing as a civil servant who was estranged from the family. While middle America may not be able to recognize her face, she knew that in the greater DC area, her identity would really be more of an open secret, but as long as the children were safe and kept from prying eyes, she really didn't care what was said behind her back.

Preston's trial updates always resulted in a slow-churn of anxiety that she was mostly able to keep at bay, although it did usually take her a few hours to process before successfully compartmentalizing it from the rest of her life. She tried to focus on her to-do lists instead, taking her frustration out on the boxes that littered the basement floor, managing to organize them by the time Nathan woke up from his nap. To her relief, he was the perfect picture of a happy toddler, not showing any traces of his morning tears. Will, however, after reorienting himself to the waking world, kept running between the kitchen and the living room, calling out to his father. To Scully's amazement, he wasn't upset when he didn't get an answer—instead he giggled; she hoped he was thinking they were playing hide-and-seek.

It was close to six when Mulder called, and she pulled the away boys from Sesame Street and helped them up to the window seat. "Daddy!" Nathan called when he recognized Mulder's car in front of the house. The two-year-old made a beeline to the back door, with his little brother close behind, both throwing themselves at their father as soon as he entered the house.

The drive back home from the Hoover building had been surreal; emerging from the Bureau parking lot, Mulder experienced a moment of confusion as to which direction he needed to drive, and once he made it to Georgetown, he almost headed to Scully's old apartment. In any case, it had been a surreal experience when he realized that the townhouse with the newly painted trim, complete with two little boys pressed against the front window were in fact his home and his sons. He hadn't expected to be so lovingly ambushed the minute he walked into the door; he was home.

Scully smiled at the scene; it was obvious that Mulder was taken aback by the warm reception he had received by the boys. "In case you couldn't tell, they missed you," she told him. "And so did I."

"Of course I missed the little monsters. And you know I missed you," Mulder told her, giving her a deep kiss. "You not being at HQ takes the fun out of wearing the Armani."

Scully blushed, ignoring his comment. "How did it go?"

"VC," he said.

"What?" Scully's eyes widened in alarm—that was the last place she wanted to see Mulder assigned, especially when she wasn't there to back him up.

"Mathison's orders. But I got a good partner—a guy I started out with. I think I told you about Chris Addison," continued Mulder. "He's a good guy. He's been in Chicago the past ten years or so."

Scully nodded, noting the signal that Mulder sent; he wanted to continue their conversation later, when the kids weren't around. "And I got you a present," Mulder finished as he handed Scully the accordion folder in his hand, and picked up Will in order to shake him upside down as Nathan continued to tug his jacket.

"Thanks," she sarcastically said as she flipped through the paperwork. "And I'm assuming you need me to do this tonight?"

"I guess," Mulder shrugged, setting down Will to give Nathan his turn. "I didn't really get into specifics with Holly. She said you could call her if you had questions."

Scully set the folder down on the kitchen counter as she ran over to the oven to check on the leftovers she was reheating.

"I need to get new school clothes," Kyle said breathlessly as he clambered into the kitchen.

"Didn't you just get some yesterday?" Mulder asked, confused, trying to settle Nathan and Will with their magnets in the breakfast nook.

"Yeah but they got messed up," the eleven-year-old explained, putting the shopping bag from the outlet mall on the table.

Scully went over to look at it. "These have marker and paint stains all over them. We won't be able to get these out. How did that happen?"

Kyle shrugged. "I knocked over the stuff for my art class box yesterday, and I didn't think it was that kind of broken, and I just saw it."

"So does this mean you need new art supplies too?"

"Oh, I didn't really think of that part," Kyle looked up at her and Mulder with a slightly goofy, slightly guilty look that Scully knew all too well.

So a half-hour later she found herself in the parking lot at Tysons Corner, ready to do battle with other procrastinating families in the quest for back to school shopping. Kyle was quieter than usual, chastened after a mini-lecture on responsibility. Scully could tell that he really did feel bad about the situation; he was just like his father—he never intended for disaster to strike at inopportune times, but was in some ways utterly clueless as to his role in laying the groundwork for a sticky situation. He promised up and down that he would be more careful in the future, no doubt that his wish for a dog of his own might be jeopardized by his actions.

"How are you liking school so far?" Scully asked Kyle as they made their way into the mall.

"It's okay," Kyle said. "Some of the kids at my lunch table are playing basketball, and this one kid, Colin, who likes video games too, he lives in our neighborhood, but on the other side of the park. And my history class, we have a group project on the Revolutionary War, and Colin's on my team. There are four of us."

"Do you want to invite them over to work on it?" Scully asked.

"Okay," Kyle shrugged. "But it's not due until October."

"Who else is in the group? Is there anybody else in the neighborhood?"

"I think Chloe lives in Arlington," answered Kyle. "But she said her almost-mom lives in Georgetown, but she didn't know our street."

Before Scully could ask any questions, Kyle continued going on about school. She didn't want to interrupt him, as he hadn't said much the night before. She was relieved that he had seemed to have a good first few days, and that his silence was due to being tired instead of having a bad day. In fact, Kyle couldn't stop talking, which heartened her, as it was always a sign that the eleven-year-old was in a good mood.

They made good time, Kyle having realized from his experience earlier that week that clothes shopping was much less of a tedious task if he held back on the whining and complaining. Scully suspected that more than anything, his cooperation resulted from his wish to get a dog; her feelings were confirmed when her stepson asked if they could stop at the bookstore so he could get a book on dog training. "I already did my homework," he promised.

"Okay but we need to leave in fifteen minutes," Scully agreed. She wasn't so much concerned about homework as she was about Mulder's supervision of bath time duties, and its resultant (lack of) cleanup. She was pretty sure that the floor was still wet from the previous evening's tub theatrics, and didn't relish the thought of trading her now-limited time spent with Mulder in order to mop up the mess.

As Kyle thumbed through a shelf of books, Scully wandered through the stacks to see if anything that might interest Mulder jumped out at her. His birthday was approaching, and she had no idea as to what to get him. As she tried to remember whether he had mentioned anything in passing, she nearly bumped into an older man who was leaning on a cane, examining the display of hardcover best sellers. She didn't realize he was speaking to her until she nearly tripped over his cane.

"So you are hiding in plain sight," he said quietly. "Just listen."

Scully looked at him warily, a chill running down her spine. She immediately glanced over her shoulder until she caught a glimpse of Kyle flipping through a book. Assured that he was safe, she looked over at the elderly gentleman, who kept staring ahead at the shelf directly in front of him. He spoke like ventriloquist's doll—his mouth was moving and sound emanated from his lips, but it was as though they were not quite in sync. "We only have a moment, so I won't repeat myself. Check the basement safe."

With that, he stiffly left. Scully tried to get another look at his face, but wasn't able to catch another glimpse before he slipped out of sight. She once again made sure that Kyle was occupied, and slipped her phone out of her bag, hitting speed dial one. She began to speak as soon as she heard Mulder pick up. "Check the basement safe," she quickly whispered.

"What happened?" Mulder answered, alarmed. "Are you okay?"

"We're fine, we're leaving now," Scully said. "We'll be home soon. Do you know what that means?"

"I don't know, I mean I think so," Mulder's mind raced. "Just get back. Be careful."

In a daze, Scully hung up, somehow managing to calmly tell Kyle that they needed to get going. He didn't protest, even though his fifteen minutes weren't exactly up; usually he kept a close eye on the time. "I found two books," he said excitedly, holding up two paperbacks. "Dad said we can't visit any dogs until I read them."

When they got home, Kyle promised to put to his clothes away, and went up to bed without complaint, no doubt wanting to get started on his books immediately. It took a minute for Scully to figure out where Mulder was hiding out, the study empty and the living room television off. Scully approached the door leading to the basement carefully, hearing some clinks and clanks. She opened the door as quietly as possible, only relaxing when she glimpsed the baby monitor at the bottom of the staircase. "Mulder?"

"Down here," he panted.

Once she reached Mulder's side, she saw what he had been doing. The boxes she had neatly relabeled and stacked on the shelving unit of the wall that abutted the townhouse next door were once again scattered around the floor, covered in dust and bits of plaster. The unit itself had been pulled to the center of the room, and Mulder was leaning against it, sledgehammer in hand.

"Growing up," he said between puffs of breath, "My grandfather had meetings in the basement. I was only allowed down here a few times. This basement technically extends about a third of the way down the length of the building next door. There was a huge walk-in closet type construction along this wall. The contractor explained that the integrity of the building structure would be compromised if we knocked it down, and it would just be easier to seal it off."

Scully coughed, waving away dust from her face. "Did you find anything?"

"I hit some metal," Mulder explained, pointing to a cluster of cracks.

Within minutes, an old-fashioned safe came into view. "How come the contractors never said anything about this?" Scully asked.

"I don't know," Mulder shrugged. "Maybe they assumed I knew about it when I told them to go ahead and seal it off." He vaguely remembered the phone call, which came at an inopportune time. It had only been a few days after they had returned from South Carolina, and he was still adjusting to having to calm down crying toddlers. He cursed himself for having been so distracted at the time.

"Do you have any idea on how to open it?" Scully asked.

Mulder thought for a moment, grateful for his photographic memory. It took nearly an hour of trying different permutations, but a combination of his grandparents' wedding date and his father's birthday opened the safe, which contained papers, some jewelry, and a moleskin notebook. "This is definitely my grandfather's diary," Mulder said as he carefully flipped through the book, frustrated that the script was difficult to read. He set it back in the safe, taking a moment before opening the large envelope.

He slipped out the papers, which were thin and curling at the edges; they looked to be carbon copies instead of original documents. They had obviously been damaged before they had been placed in the safe. A whiff of mold swept through the room, as Mulder held the pages up to the overhead light. "The print is fading," he complained. "Scully, I think these are Samantha's medical records."

Scully took the folder from him, straining to read the print. "That's what it says," she agreed. "I—the man I saw at the bookstore. I think I know where I recognized him from. Do you have a copy of that photo we found on the hard drive? The one where Charlie recognized the British guy?"

XXXX

As they settled into bed, Mulder struggled with his frustration that Scully hadn't told him about Preston's phone call. "Mulder, we agreed that we should limit our contact when you are in the Hoover building," Scully pointed out. "And that was all your idea." He knew that she was right; they barely exchanged two words before she had to run out with Kyle; but still, the fact that he hadn't known ate away at him

"I wouldn't keep something like that from you intentionally," she continued, feeling the need to defend herself when faced with his silence. "Especially where the safety of the boys are concerned."

"I know," Mulder sullenly commented. "I'm just not used to this. Not being home."

Scully relaxed a bit, realizing that Mulder wasn't annoyed with the situation, not with her. "Do you want to extend your leave?" she felt that their conversation about his return to work was a never-ending cycle.

"I don't feel that I can," he admitted, turning on his side to look straight at her. "Mathison—he tapped me for VC. Skinner said if I play my cards right, we might be able to have the X-Files back soon."

"I'm not trying to rain on your parade, Mulder," Scully gently said. "But when I get back to work, it can't be like the old days. We can't both be traveling, working crazy hours."

"I know," Mulder said, sounding like a little boy, excited about the prospect of Christmas presents. In fact, it was nearly identical to the expression on Kyle's face whenever he talked about getting a dog.

Scully sighed, wondering if he was just deluding himself and worrying that he would be disappointed when the time came and she wouldn't be able to run out to Iowa at four in the morning to search for werewolves during a full moon. "It's not going to be what it was."

"But it could be better. It is better already," he promised her.

"I'll begin to read through the files," she said, purposely changing the subject. "As soon as Byers is able to scan them." They had decided that the pages were too delicate to be jostled around too much, and as much as they both wanted to start reading them, they knew that the safest thing to do would be to try and see if the Gunmen could digitize them.

"Do you think the guy you saw was Maxwell Thomas?" Mulder asked.

"Thomas Maxwell? Maybe. Probably. But why would he go through Preston if he knew how to find me?"

"Plenty of reasons for that," Mulder opined, bending down to press a kiss against her collarbone. He quickly glanced at the bedside clock; it was after eleven—so much for sleep, he mused, as he traced his lips down lower.

XXXXX

When Mulder came home at noon the next day, announcing that the only had a few hours to pack before flight to the West Coast, Scully wasn't surprised to hear that he had been put on a missing persons case involving the daughter of a prominent member of the House judiciary committee. The local field office hadn't made any headway, so Mulder and his new partner were to report to San Francisco immediately.

"A friend of Senator Mathison?" Scully guessed, eyebrow arched.

"I spent the morning at his office," Mulder said. "He apologized for sending me across the country on my second day back."

Scully stayed silent. She had nothing against Senator Mathison personally; she had only met him twice, and he obviously had stuck his neck out for Mulder more than once, for which she was appreciative. Mulder, too, benefited form their relationship; she just couldn't help but worry about the price of her partner's loyalty. "It involves a child, doesn't it?" she asked instinctively.

He nodded. "Seven-year-old girl," he said quietly, looking in Nathan and Will's direction.

By the time he finished packing, Scully was carrying a sleepy Will up the stairs, with Nathan toddling behind her. The boys tended to get drowsy right after lunch, and although they both fought their naps, they were usually fast asleep before she was even able to finish a book. She usually read to them in Nathan's room, and then carried Will into his crib; when she passed by the youngest boy's room, she saw a stuffed giraffe in his crib. When she heard Nathan give a little cry out from his room, she knew that his monkey must have been waiting for him as well.

"This monkey, Nathan," Mulder told him as he jumped into his bed. "Is a present from me. I have to go on a trip for a few days, so I won't be here. So when you have to tell me something, you tell George here, and he'll tell me. Okay?"

"Woofy too?"

"Of course, Woofy too. You guys are a team, aren't you?" Mulder smiled, ticking the two-year-old. Nathan was hugging the monkey as he snuggled into bed, ready for his father to read him a story. Scully hung back in the doorway; when Mulder noticed her, he motioned for her to join them. Will managed to stay awake, and when Mulder brought him to his crib, he introduced him to the giraffe, who would also be able to send messages to him.

"I'm so glad you did that," Scully said as she joined him standing over Will's crib, watching him drift off into sleep.

"I realized that I haven't given them anything," Mulder admitted. "And I wanted to do it while I still had the chance."

"You're coming home, Mulder," implored Scully. "You promised you would take care of yourself in the field."

"I'm not saying anything will happen," he said sternly. "I'll be home in a few days. I just saw the toys in the closet when I was packing, and just wanted to give them to the boys. And I haven't forgotten about what you told me the other day. I lied when told the kids that they were from me. They are really from both of us; I might have thought to buy the stuffed animals, but I never would have thought about their telepathic capabilities if it weren't for you. You brought the magic, Scully."

"Please be careful," Scully whispered. "Promise me that you will come back in one piece."

"I'll be sitting in a conference room at the field office most of the time," Mulder said. "They need me to profile."

Scully grimaced, for that was what she feared the most.


	29. Chapter Twenty Eight

The blare of the alarm clock startled Scully awake. Usually she woke up three minutes before it was set to go off, but her inability to get to sleep before two o'clock am was taking its toll. She allowed herself the luxury of a few minutes spent staring into space, reorienting herself to the waking world. But as soon as it became 6:03, she pushed herself out of bed as she readied for day three of solo parenting.

Showering under a stream of hot water, Scully's thoughts immediately drifted to Mulder. Over the past few days, they only had the chance to speak in spurts; he was across the country, working around the clock to track down a seven-year-old girl, the daughter of a Californian Congressman. He had promised her that he was eating, and even managing to get some sleep here and there; when he called right before the boys' bedtime, he talked to the kids directly. Other than that nightly ritual, she would hear from him several times a day, but they were usually interrupted after only a couple of moments. Sometimes she would answer the phone to a question about forensics, or a previous case; other times it would be purely personal, and knowing that their time was short, Scully would do all she could to pay attention to Mulder's breathing rhythms, the tone of his voice—anything that would clue her in to how he was handling the case and his separation from his family.

A wail over the baby monitor signaled that she wouldn't have time to blow dry her hair. She quickly toweled herself off, finding a pair of jeans that she hoped were clean, or at the very least, didn't smell; at least she had the sense to throw in a bunch of her t-shirts with the boys' laundry the previous evening. As she entered Will's nursery, she was met with a piercing stare and a pout. It had been the first morning that Will hadn't woken just after five, expecting his father to rescue him from the confines of his crib and to go out for an early morning run.

"I know, bullfrog," Scully sighed as she picked up her youngest son. "I miss Daddy too."

She peeked into Nathan's room, the toddler fast asleep; the peaceful look on his face betrayed no evidence of the nightmare he had endured the previous evening. It had taken her much longer to settle him down than in the past, and she was certain it was because Mulder hadn't been there. While she would normally let him sleep uninterrupted, she would have to wake him up when it would be time to take Kyle to school.

As soon as they got downstairs, Will made a run for the kitchen, no doubt in search for his father. He looked stunned when saw that there was no coffee brewing, no newspaper strewn over the kitchen table. With two fingers in his mouth, his face crumbled. "Dada," he cried, looking helplessly at his mother.

Scully's heart faltered. Will had not only inherited his father's physical looks, but also his faith and optimism. "He'll be home soon. We'll call him after we bring Kyle to school, okay?"

Downcast, with Doggy in hand, Will toddled over to his alphabet magnets.

XXXX

Generally, mornings and bedtimes were the hardest. For the past couple of days, once they got past the early morning routine—breakfast, school run, a quick errand—the boys were in good humor by the time they made it to whatever morning activity Scully had planned. The afternoon would be less flexible for them, as there was only a small window between nap time and picking Kyle up from school.

Packing up to go to the park always took longer than she anticipated, even though she kept sunscreen, hats, and toys for the sand box in their own tote bag, those things always seemed to migrate. She had caught Nathan hiding the dreaded bottle of Coppertone in the kitchen cabinet with the tupperware—the only one not baby-proofed—more than once. She was trying to tune out the boys' whining as she filled a couple of water bottles to bring along, when she saw Will tugging his ear out of the corner of her eye. She turned off the tap and walked over to him, settling on the floor. "Is your ear hurting, Willster?" she asked tenderly.

As soon as he saw her hand extend towards his ear, Will burst into tears, clutching it. "I need to take a look, buddy," Scully patiently said, although she could tell from Will's resistance alone that it must be another ear infection.

The rest of the day flew by—pediatrician, pharmacy, lunch, nap, school run—and by the time dinner rolled around, she was dealing with three incredibly cranky kids. When the phone rang just as she was trying to wipe tomato sauce off of Nathan's hands, face and hair, Kyle snatched it up, knowing that it was most likely his father. To her frustration, he ran out of the room with the phone. Although Mulder had called her three times that day, each time they hadn't managed to exchange more than a handful of words before being interrupted.

"Dad wants to talk to you," Kyle said a few moments later, running up to her with the phone.

"Mulder?" Scully asked. "What's going on?"

"How's the patient?" Mulder asked, full of concern.

"He's in less pain now, I can tell that much," Scully said, relieved. "But I think he's going to need tubes in his ears."

"Ouch. Can I talk to the furry little monsters?" Mulder asked.

Scully grinned, noting the affection in his voice. She turned the phone on speaker, and settled Will on her lap, motioning for Nathan to stay close. "Do you guys want to talk to Daddy?"

She settled back as Mulder conversed with the boys; while they both lit up at the sound of his voice, their attention span was rather short, especially with no visual cues. "Did I bore them enough yet?" Mulder quipped.

Scully turned the handset back on and let Will off her lap. "They really miss you. I do too," she said.

Mulder sighed. "I don't know if we're any closer to finding this girl, Scully. And we're running out of time," he explained. What was left unsaid was the unofficial rule that after seventy-two hours, abductions became much more difficult to solve, and generally had less-than-happy endings.

"You'll do it," Scully responded assuringly. "Are you eating? Sleeping"

"I just finished a hamburger," he promised. "And I slept five hour last night."

Scully could hear some noise in the background, and could faintly hear out someone shout "Muldy."

"Sounds like they need me out there," Mulder said. "I'll call you when I can."

XXXXX

The lingering summer weather ended that night; a chill ran through Scully when she stepped outside to take out the garbage. When she got back to the kitchen, she thought about scanning the newspaper for the weather report, but didn't have the energy to rip open the plastic bag in which it was still encased. "Do you think it got colder today?" she asked Kyle, who was sitting at the table, doing his homework.

"I guess," he shrugged. "But our science teacher said that happens before a hurricane."

"Hurricane?" Scully asked quizzically as she began to load the dishwasher.

"Yeah, we're supposed to get a hurricane on Friday," Kyle said in a tone that he usually reserved for Nathan after having asked 'why' for the dozenth time.

"Anything else that I should know?" Scully asked, hoping that Mulder would be home by then.

"The difference between X-Men and the Avengers. That's important," the eleven-year-old replied sardonically.

"Or do you mean the difference between mutants and superheroes more generally speaking?" Scully retorted, prompting a look of grudging approval from her stepson. "Unfortunately, I think that you'll need to finish your homework before we rehash that debate. It's getting late."

After checking in on the toddlers, Scully retired to the study, determined to spend some time looking through Samantha's medical records. So far, there hadn't been anything that had jumped out at her—just information about her broken collarbone, ear infections, and a few cases of strep throat. She knew that she was missing something, but was too tired to think straight.

She settled back in the chair, her thoughts wandering to her father, and his involvement in the entangled events of the early days of the Syndicate and the coverup of her brother's crime. Had Ahab ever attended a meeting in the basement of this very house? Had he known Mulder's father? Although the Gunmen had determined that the photo of him and Krycek had been doctored, she couldn't help but wonder if the two had actually met at some point through the years. She could no longer take anything about her parents' past at face value.

She pulled a manila file folder from the lower drawer of the desk, and found a pen, getting to work on her research.

She paged through the notes she had pulled together—she had drawn out a timeline in Sharpie marker, and had written in notes for key events, using green ink for those involving her family, red for political events, and blue for those items discovered on the hard drive and other pieces of evidence she, Mulder, her brother, and the Gunmen had unearthed. She was trying to find a connection, or at least some overlap among the three colors littered over the pages.

Soon there would be a fourth layer to the project—those discoveries that would emerge from the banker's boxes that were sent to Preston from Bill's defense attorney, information owed to him by virtue of representing Charlie as a defense witness. Scully hadn't decided when she would start looking through the files; she kept waffling when trying to determine whether she was ready to unearth new information about her father. With the trial date fast approaching—it was now less than five weeks away—she needed to figure out whether she wanted to learn at least some of this information before it was reported on the news.

"Dana?"

Scully startled when she heard Kyle's voice. "Sorry," she murmured, looking up from the desk. The wall clock read 9:30 PM—had she really been sitting there for over an hour? "What's going on?" she asked as she wrapped up her work, sticking the folder back in its drawer.

"Colin's mom wants to talk to you," he explained, thrusting the phone into her direction.

"I didn't hear it ring," she said, yawning, as she extended her arm over the desk to grab the handset from Kyle.

"I called him about our history homework," Kyle shrugged, leaving the room.

"Is this Dana? It's nice to finally speak with you!" an energetic voice filled Scully's ear. "I'm Vanessa Belkins, Colin's mom. We actually live in the same neighborhood."

"On the side of the park, right?" Scully asked, hoping that she sounded friendly. As much as she didn't feel like speaking to anyone except Mulder, she was desperate for adult conversation.

"Exactly! I was wondering if you would be interested in carpooling," Vanessa rushed. "The boys will be on the same basketball team, and they'll be practicing every afternoon starting next week. I feel like I spend enough time in the car as it is, and I'm hoping that you feel the same."

"That would be great," agreed Scully. "How do you think we should divide this up?"

"I'm fairly flexible, but it would be easier for me to pull afternoon duty," Vanessa explained. "What about you?"

"Mornings would be great for us," Scully held in a small sigh of relief. Even with Mulder out-of-town, it would be easier to pop the boys into the car before their day began, rather than having their afternoon routine interrupted.

After hammering out the logistics, and exchanging addresses and cell phone numbers, she could hear some hesitation in the other woman's voice. "Is there anything else?" asked Scully.

"I don't mean to sound out of place here," Vanessa stammered. "But is there anyone else we need to um, coordinate with here?"

"We have sole custody of Kyle," said Scully firmly, not knowing whether Colin's mother was trying to be sensitive or was implying that she wanted some sort of confirmation from Kyle's biological parent.

"That's what I thought," Vanessa cheerily answered. "You know what they say about assuming."

"I understand. These things can get complicated," responded Scully, deciding to give Vanessa the benefit of the doubt in that she was at least trying to be considerate. "We'll see you tomorrow morning."

She locked the study door behind her, and made her way to the kitchen, where Kyle was putting his textbooks into his bag. "So we're going to try carpooling with Colin's family," she announced. "But I'm guessing you already knew that."

"Yeah she asked Colin to ask me to tell you but I forgot," Kyle said. "But at least I remembered to tell you now!"

Scully returned a lopsided smile, thinking about how the elven-year-old had inherited his father's sense of humor.

XXXX

She had no trouble sleeping that night, the sheer exhaustion from running around all day having hit her as soon as she crawled into bed. The alarm woke her the next morning, but both boys were still sleeping. She had enough time to dry her hair, making her feel a bit more like Dana Scully the adult versus Dana Scully the mommy. The luxury of a near-full night's sleep gave her some perspective as she planned out the day, making the decision to let the kids sleep in as long as possible, and just bundle them into the car in their pajamas. Luckily they were both in much better moods than the previous day, and they happily munched on Cheerios in the car as they picked up Colin on their way to school.

When they finally did get dressed later that morning, Scully pulled out two hoodies with dog ears on top and little tails on the back, sweatshirts that she had purchased at the outlet mall. She pulled the hoods onto their heads and brought them to the bathroom mirror, where the boys could see the full effects of their outfits. "Puppy!" Nathan pointed to the mirror, prompting giggles from all three of them.

"I'm a puppy," Nathan announced, pulling the hood over his ears.

"Just like Woofy," Scully agreed, holding his hand as they approached the staircase.

"No," Nathan resisted, dropping down on his hands and knees. "I'm a puppy."

"Nathan, you need to hold my hand down the stairs. Those are the rules," Scully patiently explained for the zillionth time. While neither boy had trouble walking up the staircase, they both needed assistance in climbing down.

"Woof," Nathan sternly barked.

It was a standoff at the head of the staircase. Nathan crawled up to the edge, but Scully stopped him before he could begin to make his way down. "You'll get hurt if you go that way," she told him. "You can be a puppy downstairs as long as you hold my hand and walk down the stairs carefully."

"Woof."

"Nathan," Scully warned her son. "Time out for five minutes if you don't take my hand right now."

Finally, she was able to say something that both Nathan the two-year-old boy and Nathan the puppy dog understood. He bolted upright and took her hand.

XXXX

Somehow, they came to the understanding that as long as Nathan ate at the table and held her hand when going up or down the stairs, he could be a puppy the rest of the time. He crawled around the floor, which confused Will, who kept tumbling over him, and took his nap on a blanket in his room, refusing to take off his hoodie. Scully knew that pretending to be an animal was common for children his age, and that an extended game of pretend was a sign of high intelligence. Still, the whole exercise was exhausting, especially since he was constantly at her feet, and she was constantly worried that she would trip and accidentally hurt him.

Scully had forgotten that she had invited Vanessa to stop in for a few moments when dropping Kyle home from school, so when Kyle's key scraped the front door, she was a bit taken aback by the arrival of the visitors. Once again, the prospect of adult conversation for longer than three minutes outweighed Scully's lack of sociability, so she put on some hot water, and made tea for the adults and hot chocolate for the kids.

Luckily, Vanessa ended up being more easy going that Scully had anticipated, barely batting an eye when Nathan announced he was a puppy. "Colin was a penguin one summer," she mentioned in between sips of earl grey tea. "Be sure to take pictures. They make for great blackmail."

Scully flinched when she heard Vanessa's words; she could only hope that kind of blackmail would be the only type that they would face.

"I have to say," Vanessa continued, oblivious to Scully's concern. "My curiosity was piqued when I noticed the renovations begin in this house, when was it, April? I'm in real estate, and when I noticed, I tried making some inquiries about whether the owner was interested in putting it up on the market, but I was stonewalled. Told there was no way that the owner would be selling."

Aah, Scully thought. Real estate: The real reason why Vanessa Belkins was so eager to carpool with a family she had never met.

"And so here we are," Scully smiled.

"Dana, we want to play with Nathan and Will," Kyle said, popping into the kitchen. "We'll be careful."

"As long as your lego sets aren't around," Scully agreed, a little surprised by Kyle's request.

"No small toys, I promise," Kyle said as his younger brothers scampered after him, Nathan of course, still crawling. "Will likes to stick legos up his nose."

It was nearly an hour before Vanessa and Colin left, and Scully knew that she needed to figure out something quick to make for dinner. "Would you be able to keep playing with them so I can get dinner made?" Scully asked Kyle.

"That's fine," Kyle said with a smile. "We're busy anyway."

A half-hour later, Scully was finished, and when she wandered back into the living room, she was impressed to not only see the boys still interacting with no tears involved, but also that the television was still off. "Dinner's ready," she said. "Want some food?"

Will ran over to her, hugging her knees, but Nathan stayed in place, looking up at Kyle expectantly. "You can go now," Kyle said to his younger brother, as Nathan began quickly crawling towards the kitchen.

"What is this about?" Scully asked suspiciously, knowing something was brewing as soon as Kyle gave her an innocent look.

"Nothing," Kyle shrugged.

"Kyle," Scully warned.

"Okay," Kyle sighed. "We were working on dog training. You know how Dad told me I had to read those dog training books we got last week? Well, I practiced on Nathan."

"That's terrible," protested Scully as she rolled her eyes. "He's a little boy, not a dog."

"But he listened, Dana," Kyle argued. "That says something about the book. Anyway, I'm practicing to show Dad when he comes home so we can get a real dog."

"By training your little brother to act like a well-behaved dog?" Scully asked lightly. "Nathan's not even three, Kyle. He needs help when it comes to explaining when playing pretend has to end."

"But do you think it will work?"

Scully cringed when she saw the hopeful look plastered on Kyle's face. "You might want to make sure that you do your chores and clean up your room," she responded. "Just to be on the safe side."

"Good idea," Kyle said.

"Okay Nathan pup," Scully said, scooping the two-year-old from the floor. "Remember you have to be little boy Nathan for dinner."

XXXX

Kyle must have backtracked a bit on his position on dog-training his younger brother after their conversation, because as Scully cleaned up the kitchen, she could hear the eleven-year-old reason with his younger brother. "When I'm not around, you HAVE to listen to your mom," she heard Kyle plead, a hint of nervousness on his voice. "Or it's bad news for both of us."

She held back a chuckle as she lingered for a moment, being sure to call out the boys' names before she entered the living room to announce bath time. While she was trying to decide whether Nathan was being more cooperative than usual because of Kyle's lecture, she heard the phone ring. "I'll get it!" Kyle shouted from his room, clambering down the stairs. They both knew that it was probably Mulder calling.

She was helping Nathan pull on his pajamas when Kyle handed her the phone. "He sounds weird," he said softly, obviously upset.

"Okay," Scully told her stepson. "Why don't you pick out a bed time story for them, okay?"

Kyle nodded, downcast, as she took away the portable phone and slipped into the master bedroom. "What's going on?" Scully asked, hoping she would be able to figure out where Mulder's headspace would be, both emotionally and in terms of his investigation.

"Long day," mumbled Mulder, his voice scratchy. "I'm losing hope."

Scully's heart sank. For Mulder to admit that so readily was not a good sign. "For Christ's sake, Scully, she's just a little girl. I don't know why the fuck I can't figure this out."

For the first time in months, she slid into special agent mode, and found herself asking Mulder some probing questions about the case, hoping that one of his answers would help jog his thinking. She wished she could be there in person, even if it weren't within her capacity as his Bureau partner. After a half-hour, she knew she had to turn her attention back to getting the kids to sleep, but she didn't want to be the one to end the conversation. Luckily, Mulder was pulled off the phone before she needed to do so, and she made him promise to call her the second he was able.

When she got to Nathan's room, she saw the two-year-old asleep in his bed, clutching his stuffed monkey and Woofy, while Will was sleeping on the floor. "Thanks for watching them so much today," Scully said to Kyle after she put Will down on his crib.

"What's wrong with Dad?" Kyle asked in a tone that told Scully he was fighting back tears.

"He's tired, Kyle," Scully responded seriously as he curled up on the couch, barely looking at her. She sat down next to him, continuing, "He's been out there since Friday, and it's Tuesday night. There's lot of pressure when you work on a case like that, especially with the press."

"What kind of case is it?" Kyle asked quietly.

Scully bit her lip. She and Mulder hadn't talked about what to tell or not tell Kyle about the case; sometimes it was the most obvious questions that fell by the wayside. While a part of her wondered how annoyed Mulder would be if she ended up oversharing, she shook those thoughts away as she reminded herself that Mulder had trusted her to make those tough calls when he wouldn't be around. "Are you up for some more hot chocolate?" she asked.

"Only if there are marshmallows."

"Lucky for you, there are plenty."

XXXX

"Your dad is helping find a kidnapped girl," Scully explained as she stirred the Swiss Miss mix in both their mugs. She popped two marshmallows into Kyle's, handing him another couple to snack on, before stashing everything away. They walked back into the living room, where they sat opposite one another, each on a sofa. "What's complicated is that her father's in Congress. Kidnappings are usually complicated, and remember you said in August that you end up reading slower when your dad keeps asking you about how much summer work you got done in a day?" She waited for Kyle to nod before she continued. "Well it's kind of like that. The more pressure different people put on you, especially when they don't know much about how you do your job, the harder it is to get things done."

Kyle nodded as he blew over his mug.

"Your father and the rest of the agents working on this case need to interview a lot of people, and that takes a lot of time."

"Why?"

"Think of when you came home after camp, and Dad would ask you about how your day was, and you would say nothing happened? And then a few hours later, usually when you didn't want to go to bed, you would say 'the funniest thing ever happened at practice,'" Scully answered.

Kyle smiled. "Like, every day?" he answered bashfully.

"That's what it's like when you are an FBI agent," Scully promised him. "So people don't think they know things that are helpful, or are so overwhelmed with what's going on, that sometimes we have to interview people again and again in order to figure out what really might have happened."

"Plus people lie," Kyle offered.

"Plus, people lie," Scully repeated.

"What happens if Dad can't find her?"

"There's a whole team of people out there, Kyle," Scully said. "And they are working together to find her, and they are all working really hard. These cases aren't closed until we know what happened."

"What about Aunt Samantha?" Kyle asked sharply.

"Her file is still open, Kyle," Scully said gently. "And your Dad does everything he can to make sure it gets the attention it deserves. Do you know what the term 'cold case' means?"

Kyle shook his head.

"It's used to describe a case that doesn't have any new leads. Your dad knows how important it is to make sure that attention is still paid to cold cases. He knows that there are a lot of families that are suffering because they don't know what happened to their child or spouse or sibling. And your dad gets asked to look through the files of cold cases because he's really smart and he picks up on things that most people don't see," Scully explained carefully, with pride brimming in her voice.

Kyle nodded thoughtfully. "Does he have to stay in California until someone decides that he's working on a cold case?"

Scully shook her head. "No, they don't let agents out in the field on the same case for too long, because they know that they get tired and burnt out, and that they have families who miss them very much. Everyone does better after a few days off anyway."

"When's the longest you were out on a case?"

"That's a good question," Scully said thoughtfully. "I think it was technically when your Dad and I had to go to this forest, and we ended up getting sick, and we had to go into quarantine in a hospital for a few weeks. But I don't think that we travelled to a place just for casework for more than ten days."

"So if that happens again, he'll be back in time for my first basketball game next weekend, right?" Kyle asked hopefully.

"That what it would look like, bud," Scully responded with a smile. "I know that he'll do whatever he can to make sure he's home by then."

"Do you think he sounded sad?"

Scully nodded as she finally took her first sip of hot chocolate. "He misses home," she agreed, a thought suddenly flying through her head. "So why don't we send him something?"

"I'm too old to being drawing him pictures," Kyle exclaimed, a look of mock horror crossing his face.

They spent the next hour packing a small box for Scully to mail to Mulder's hotel the next morning—Scully found some pictures that that the younger boys had colored earlier that day, and Kyle had fished out a graded copy of one of his summer reading assignments out of the rather crumpled confines of his backpack, with a post-it note that sarcastically proclaimed "see I told you I did my homework." Scully threw in a pack of seeds, and remembered that she had picked up some developed photos that she had picked up at the pharmacy along with Will's antibiotics the day before. She thumbed through them, settling on a photo of Mulder, Will, and Nathan during their trip to the zoo, and another shot, this one of all three boys, taken at the park the previous weekend.

As Kyle finished his homework at the kitchen table, she sat with him, working on her own note to Mulder, not knowing at all what to say.

When the phone did ring, Kyle picked it up, and Scully felt a wave of relief rush over her when the eleven-year-old broke out into a grin. After a few minutes, Kyle hung up, saying that his father had promised to call right back. She wasn't too concerned when there was no return call by the time Kyle packed up his things and trudged to his room, but as soon as he made it up the stairs, she began to watch the clock more closely. She kept the bedroom extension on the bathroom vanity as she took a quick shower, and by the time it did ring, she managed to answer it as soon as the red light at the end of the antennae began to flicker.

"Did it even ring, Scull?" Mulder asked with a throaty laugh.

She wasn't sure what had changed over the past three hours, but she didn't care—she was just grateful that it had.

"Did I completely traumatize Kyle earlier today?" he asked.

"He knew you weren't yourself, and he was worried, but he was feeling completely better about everything after your last conversation," Scully promised. "He's just hoping that you'll be home for his first game next weekend."

"I hope so," Mulder sighed. "I want nothing more than to be back with all of you."

"I know," Scully said. "How are you holding up? You sound like your old self again."

"I gained some perspective in the last couple of hours," Mulder explained.

"How so?" Scully asked, lying down on her side, intrigued. Short of solving the case, she wasn't sure what had brightened his mood.

"Addison kicked my ass," responded Mulder. "Apparently I'm much more agreeable and productive when I sleep and eat at regular intervals. I had been doing okay the first few days, but I lost it last night, Scully. I got frustrated things weren't moving fast enough, so I pulled an all-nighter and then just crashed this afternoon."

"Oh, Mulder," Scully tenderly whispered.

"Addison managed to get through to me before I did something incredibly stupid."

"Did you have anything in particular in mind?"

"I had it in my head, if you can believe it, Scully," Mulder chuckled. "I threatened to insinuate to a group of agents that they were purposely trying to slow down the investigation."

Scully cringed. "Had you verbalized those thoughts, Mulder?"

"Luckily only to Addison," Mulder admitted. "I'm lucky that I have such a good partner."

"You are," Scully mumbled, trying to tamper feelings of jealousy towards this old mystery friend of Mulder's who had so easily replaced her out on the field.

"But Scully?"

"Hmmm."

"Let me finish before you get all jealous, although I admit, that is a turn on," Mulder half-joked. "What I really meant to say was that I'm lucky I have someone out here who makes sure that I don't become my own worst enemy."

"I am too," Scully responded, truthfully, tears pricking her eyes. "Just get back to us safe, Mulder. That's all I ask."

"I'm trying, Scully," promised Mulder. "I'm trying."

XXXXXX

Scully woke up early the next morning, suddenly realizing what she wanted to write in her note to Mulder, managing to finish it up when Will began to wail from his bedroom. As soon as she glimpsed his pudgy hand covering his previously non-infected ear, she realized that they were probably dealing with a double ear infection. She called as soon as the pediatrician's office opened, being told to bring him in as soon as possible. Luckily there was a Fed-Ex office in the same building as the doctor, and grudgingly forked over an outrageous amount of money for a next day shipment, fairly confident that Mulder wouldn't be on his way home that day. She knew it would devastate Kyle if the box didn't reach his father in time.

When the phone rang just after she put Will down for a mid-morning nap, Scully dreaded the possibility that it would be a call from Vanessa Belkins, flaking out of that afternoon's car pool duty, but was instead surprised to hear from Holly instead. "Is this a bad time, Agent Scully?" Holly asked.

"No, it's actually the quietest it will be all day, probably," Scully tittered, making sure that Nathan was still occupied with an episode Thomas the Tank Engine on the living room television.

"I know that Agent Mulder had given you that paperwork to look over, and that he's on the West Coast right now. I was hoping if it would be alright if I stopped by at some point today to pick it up. I need to start getting things processed on our end so everything's all set before the open enrollment period ends on October 1."

"Of course," Scully said, rushing into the study to see whether she had even started filling out the forms; to her relief, she had finished everything. She couldn't remember how or when she had completed it all, but at least she had done it. "Do you mind coming all the way over here?"

"I have dinner plans in Georgetown tonight," Holly assured her. "I'll stop by after I leave the office, if that's alright with you."

While the kids went down for their afternoon naps, Scully barricaded herself in the study, managing to get Will an ENT specialist appointment for the next week, and signing up for another daycare open house. Her tasks completed, she turned her attention to Samantha's medical records. A quick look at the clock told her she had about forty-five minutes to make some headway. She focused on the lab work, and began to re-transcribe Samantha's blood tests onto an Excel spreadsheet, hoping that a pattern would emerge. She didn't get as far as she would have liked before the boys woke up, but she felt encouraged that she at least accomplished something all the same.

The afternoon flew by; between Will's crankiness and Nathan's boundless energy, she felt as though she had been torn in two. Taking advantage of his mother's distractedness, Nathan decided to try climbing the up the kitchen counter, using the cabinet handles as footholds. While she was busy supervising Nathan's time out, Will tried to copy his brother, but ended up falling down, igniting an eruption of chaos. Scully found herself close to tears herself, not knowing how much more she could take.

She needed help.

XXXXXX

Luckily Elisabeth was free, and was more than happy to take Nathan to the park, an activity that Scully hoped would help him exert all of his pent-up energy. She hadn't realized how much she had relied on their mini-excursions out of the house until their routine changed over the past couple of days. She would have loved some fresh air herself, but was concerned about Will, wanting to monitor his tolerance of the new antibiotics the pediatrician had prescribed earlier that day. He was still reluctant to blow his nose, and she knew that his congestion was probably exacerbating the pain of his double ear infection.

By the time Elisabeth returned Nathan a couple of hours later, the little boy was practically a different person, chattering and smiling and of course, dirty with grass and sand stuck all over his clothes. "There was a big game of Simon Says going on," Elisabeth explained. "Nathan got a little silly."

"I don't know what I would have done if you weren't around," Scully thanked the babysitter as she paid her.

"My classes are all in the morning this semester," Elisabeth explained brightly. "So if you ever need someone to watch the kids in the afternoon while you run errands, go to the grocery store, that kind of thing, just let me know."

"Maybe we can set up something steady," Scully suggested, unsure of why she hadn't thought of using a sitter in order to get her errands run. She realized that was what Mulder must have been getting at when he introduced them. She had assumed he was thinking of something along the lines of them sneaking out to get a late dinner, or to catch the occasional movie. Maybe it was the lack of sleep and the other constant distractions that had arisen in setting up their life in DC that had blinded her from the obvious. "I'll call you over the weekend."

Both boys were much more agreeable than they had been earlier in the day, and since Nathan was resembling Pig Pen more than Snoopy, she brought them upstairs for baths. He didn't fight her as he usually did, and even played a bit with the bath toys, which he normally reserved for making big splashes. When Holly stopped by to collect the paperwork, she remarked on how well-behaved the toddlers were, as they played with some toys in the breakfast nook. "Let's just say it was a different story earlier today," Scully smiled tactfully.

XXXXXX

"Did Dad solve his case?" Kyle asked after she returned to the living room after putting the kids to bed.

"I don't know," Scully said. "I haven't talked to your father since this morning. Why?"

Kyle pointed to the television, where the scrawling ticker on CNN announced that there had been a break in the kidnapping. Scully inwardly sighed; she wasn't thrilled about the habit of the wider Mulder-Scully clan finding out information about one another through cable news. "That could mean anything," Scully shrugged, flopping onto the empty sofa. "And your dad might not even be able to let us know what's going on. He'll call when he's able."

Kyle shrugged in response, flipping the channel back to the baseball game he had been watching, muttering that he had finished his homework. When the phone rang, he was sure to answer it first, disappointed that the call was not from his father. He handed the phone to Scully, rolling his eyes, not even bothering to protest when she sent him upstairs to bed.

"Hello?" Scully asked.

"Dana?" the gruff voice asked. "Addison here, Mulder's partner."

Scully sat up, the hairs on her neck standing on end. "What's wrong?" she immediately asked, her stomach dropping. In the split second it took Addison to answer her, flashes of the last through months flew through her mind.

"Mulder's been shot."


	30. Chapter Twenty Nine

**A/N:** Happy holidays to everyone! Thanks for reading, and I hope you are enjoying your year-end festivities. Let me know what you think.

XXXXX

_Mulder ran towards the light, calling out for Scully. As his eyes adjusted to the faint yellow glow, he sensed another presence. Turning his head, he caught sight of a boy with unruly dark hair. "Nathan?" he whispered. But how could that be? The child in front of him looked to be about eight years old._

_"Hi, Dad," Nathan casually stated. "We've been waiting for you."_

_As he took a step back, Mulder realized that Nathan was not alone. _

_"Samantha?" he gasped._

_"Fox," the woman smiled, her dark hair shining and her eyes sparkling. She squeezed Nathan's shoulder, and walked towards her older brother, giving him a hug. "It's been far too long."_

_Mulder relaxed as he embraced his sister. "I never stopped searching for you."_

_"I know," Samantha tenderly smiled. "I always knew you would find me. And that's what I told my little girl. You were always the hero in her bedtime stories."_

_After they broke apart, Mulder realized that Nathan was talking to an older girl, who resembled her mother, with her raven hair and high cheekbones. "Uncle Fox," she smiled, with a little wave._

_"Hi," Mulder said, still puzzled as to what was happening. He turned to his son once more. "Where are your brothers, Nathan? And your mom?"_

_"Which one?" Nathan blankly responded._

XXXXX

"I think he's seizing," an emergency room doctor shouted over the din, his words reverberating through the crowded hallway.

"Stay with us, man," another doctor pleaded with the patient. "We don't want to lose you. Too much paperwork."

"He'll rather stay in this condition, than listen to your bad jokes, Ken," grumbled the doctor. "Did you ever think about that?"

XXXXX

After Addison ended their call, Scully set down the phone. She wasn't sure what to do with the minimal information she had received; all she knew was that Mulder had been shot and rushed to the hospital. As she settled back, her fingers fluttering along the arms of the chair, half-smiling at the memory of making love with him right where she sat. Thinking back, she wasn't quite sure how they had managed it, but somehow they had—defying expectations, as usual.

Her eyes wandered to the framed photos that sat on the desk. They couldn't lose him—they had both experienced childhoods with absentee fathers, and were determined to make sure that circumstances would be different for their sons. It wasn't fair, she thought. They had only one week together in this house, as a family. She tried to think more positively, reminding herself that it was just as likely that Mulder would be fine after some stitches and painkillers—but it was of no use. She looked at the clock: it was approaching ten pm, and she knew that it would be at least an hour before she received a call from the special agent in charge of the case, officially informing her of Mulder's injury.

She hated playing the waiting game. A part of her wanted to pack everything up so she could take the boys to the airport for an early morning flight to San Francisco, school and ear infections be damned. If Mulder's injuries were severe, he and the kids needed an opportunity to see one another. Or should she just take Kyle, and leave the younger boys home, praying that the Gunmen, perhaps with Elisabeth's help, would be able to keep them fed and safe and clean for a few days? How quickly could Hannah get to DC? She was working out the logistics of these possibilities when the shrill sound of the phone rang from her lap.

"Dana, I just heard the news about the shootout," Karen chirped. "Charlie told me he was working the case. Was it him? What's going on?"

"I don't know. I mean, it was him, but I don't know how bad," Scully sighed, grateful to hear her sister-in-law's voice.

"Are you sworn to secrecy?" prodded Karen.

"No, I really don't know," insisted Scully, the frustration in her voice growing. "I haven't even gotten official word yet. Mulder's partner called me on the sly. A bullet hit his shoulder, at least that's what he thinks. But it was speculation."

"Do you want us to fly down? Or do you want to come here?"

Scully found herself welling up at her sister-in-law's offer. She and Karen certainly had their differences, and despite the residual tension from the events of the pat summer, they were still family, and had to stick together. "I don't know," Scully finally responded. "It could be nothing, but it could be really bad."

There, she thought. She had said aloud her greatest fear, with the hope that it would never become true.

After finally disconnecting Karen's call, promising within an inch of her life that she would relay updates, no matter the late hour, Scully busied herself. More than anything, she needed a distraction. She opened the desk drawer, fumbling through the folders that contained her ongoing, slow-moving projects—the timeline of events surrounding that fateful Thanksgiving so many years ago, and Samantha's alleged childhood medical records. She tried to continue analyzing the bloodwork, but was unable to concentrate. She pushed it aside, drowning in the feeling of failure.

More than anything, she had wanted to be able to meaningfully contribute to Mulder's search for his sister. Instead, she felt that she was holding him back, distracting him from his lifelong crusade. She was a scientist, a doctor; at the very least, she should have been able to make sense of the lab work and medical notes they had discovered in the basement safe. But instead of solving the puzzle, she had only succeeded in moving around the pieces.

But before she could dwell on things any further, she was interrupted by a piercing cry from the second floor.

XXXXX

_"My brothers are around," Nathan shrugged. "They are over there."_

_Mulder looked in the direction where Nathan was pointing, and he could barely make out two figures in the distance._

_"Where's your mother, Nathan?" Mulder asked, his tension palpable. He could feel his hands begin to sweat, his arms beginning to slightly shake as he cradled Nathan's face in his hands. _

_"Which one?" Nathan repeated._

_XXXX_

Nathan was kicking and screaming on his bed, tangled in his blue Thomas the Tank Engine comforter and matching sheets. He was clutching Woofy the dog so tightly his knuckles were turning white. "Nathan, wake up, honey," Scully cooed, making sure that her voice remained soft and soothing. "You're just having a bad dream, monkey. Mommy's here."

She gently shook Nathan until his eyes opened; his screams died down, and his sobs slowed into hiccups. "What were you dreaming of, monkey?" Scully asked her son, smoothing down his damp hair as she scooped him into her lap.

"Daddy," Nathan sniffled.

Scully slightly stiffened, reminding herself that Nathan regularly had bad dreams, and this incident wasn't necessarily connected with his father's injury. "Daddy will be home with us soon," she said quietly.

"I want Daddy," Nathan insisted, his face scrunching up as he burrowed into his mother's neck.

"So do I, monkey," agreed Scully.

XXXXX

"What's our ETA for an open room?" Ken yelled to a surgical nurse.

"Three minutes," she shouted back, jumping out of the path of the gurney flying down the hall.

"Make it two," the attending barked, glancing at the blood on his patient's chest. "This one's getting messy."

XXXXX

_Mulder stepped back, stunned. "I'll be right back, buddy," he promised Nathan as he ran after the distant figures, who he hoped were his other children. "Kyle? Will?"_

_"Dad!" Will ran right to him, giving him a hug, wrapping his arms around his father's waist. _

_"How are you doing, slugger?" Mulder asked Will, who he guessed was around six years of age. He was accompanied by a husky dog, who stood intently at his side, his tail thumping. _

_"Having fun," Will grinned. "Do you want to play with me and Bandit?"_

_"I sure do," promised Mulder, dropping a kiss on Will's head, taking a hard look at his grass-stained clothes. It certainly looked like he had been having fun-getting dirty, with a loyal dog at his side. "But I need to find everybody else first."_

_"Oh," Will pouted, looking down at the ground. "But then you'll play?" He looked back up at his father hopefully._

_"Of course, Willster," Mulder crossed his heart. "I promise."_

XXXXX

Before she headed to her bedroom, Nathan in her arms, Scully looked in on Will, who had kicked off his blankets and was fidgeting in his sleep. Scully stood over his crib, ignoring the dead weight in her arms. She shifted the two-year old onto her left hip, using her newly-freed right hand to touch Will. As soon as her fingers slid over his chubby cheeks, the baby jerked awake, letting out a fierce wail. "I'm here, bullfrog," she assured her youngest child, rubbing his back until he quieted down. Somehow she managed to pull up his blankets without dropping Nathan, who was beginning to once again sniffle.

She only left Will's room once she was assured that he had fallen back to sleep. Toting Nathan in her arms, Scully made her way to the master bedroom. Although she and Mulder were in the habit of putting the kids back into their own beds after waking up overnight, she needed to keep Nathan close. After settling the two-year-old in bed, she left to retrieve his monkey. "Remember what Daddy said?" she asked the boy. "Give Curious George here a hug and you'll feel better, sweetie."

Nathan nodded, reaching out for the oversized stuffed animal, as his mother stretched out next to him, helplessly watching him drift off to sleep before she went back downstairs to wait for more news.

As expected, the call from the San Francisco ASAC came just after eleven, during which Scully was assured that Mulder was currently undergoing minor surgery to remove the bullet from his shoulder. "The actual injury wasn't too bad, but there was lots of blood. Took them awhile to figure out where he was hit. Agent Mulder was taking shots behind a dumpster, and for whatever reason that didn't provide enough cover. We think the bullet ricocheted, and got lodged in his clavicle."

"No vest?" Scully asked, alarmed. Why, in the middle of a hostage situation, wouldn't Mulder have a bullet proof vest?

"No time," the ASAC, whose name she had already forgotten, responded. "He and Addison got a lead, and they went for it before backup arrived. And it was a good thing they did, for that little girl's sake. She might not have made it if they waited another hour."

"Damn it, Mulder," she muttered as she tossed the phone on the couch once her call ended. The mix of emotions swelled over her: anger that he went in without backup, without a bullet proof vest, without _her_; gratitude, awe, and pride that he had followed his gut instincts and saved the life of an innocent child; and relief that he would be fine, physically speaking.

Scully paced around the living room, fingering the photos that stood on the mantlepiece, above the fireplace. She blinked back tears, reciting a silent prayer of thanks that Mulder would be coming home to them.

XXXXX

_All of a sudden, Will disappeared. Mulder looked back, and saw the figures of Samantha, the children, and the puppy frolicking, which gave him enough peace of mind to continue on his quest to find the rest of his family. "Scully?" he called out again, fumbling as the light dimmed._

_Once again, he was met with another burst of light. "You're all grown up," Mulder swallowed, taking a hard look at his oldest son, who looked much like he did as a teenager. _

_"That's what happens when you get older," shrugged Kyle._

_"Where's Scull—Dana? " Mulder asked. "I found your brothers, but I haven't seen her."_

_Kyle's hazel eyes pierced his own. "She's been waiting for you," he answered tersely. _

_Mulder suddenly noticed that Kyle was holding the hand of a baby, a little girl with reddish-blonde locks of hair framing her face, fiercely clutching a teddy bear. She was unsteady on her feet, and looked ready to plop right down on the ground._

_"Emily?" he whispered, even though he knew that it was impossible; while his boys had all aged, this child was considerably younger than Emily had been when they met._

_"Seriously, Dad?" Kyle impatiently interjected._

_"Dada?" The baby's blue eyes were wide as she looked up at him, continue to babble._

XXXXX

Mulder's eyes flew wide open as he drew a deep breath; he felt as though he had been drowning. Beads of sweat slid down his forehead, and he felt the tug of IV needles on both arms.

"Agent Mulder, it looks as though you finally decided to join us," a doctor dryly noted as he fidgeted impatiently. "Although consciousness is a state of mind, you are physically in California."

"What happened?" Mulder asked, barely able to speak, his parched mouth making his jaw feel heavy.

"A bullet landed between your clavicle and left shoulder," continued the doctor, obviously bored. "We were able to fish it out fairly easily, but we did have to do so surgically. I'm sure your partner will be able to fill you in on the who, what, why, where, when and how, but we're not letting you have visitors for another hour or so."

"Day?" Mulder croaked.

"It's been Thursday for a couple of hours, and it will continue to be Thursday, all day, even," the humorless surgeon continued, scribbling a few notes on the chart before placing it on the rack at the end of the bed. "I'll be back in a few."

"Lay back down," a nurse instructed Mulder, as she adjusted the bed. "You should be out of here tomorrow. I heard through the grape vine that you are a bit of a pain in the ass, so that might even speed things up for you."

Mulder cringed. Everyone was a comedian.

"Your wife has been calling every half-hour," the nurse continued. Mulder tried to look at her ID badge, but was only able to get a glimpse of her name. Col—Cai—something to that effect. "Once we get you hydrated, you should be able to speak to her. You'll be dealing with dry mouth for the next couple of days.

Mulder sighed. He knew the drill.

"I think you might have some kids, huh? I could hear them in the background."

Mulder lifted up three fingers, ignoring the stiffness in his wrist. His head ached as he tried to remember the strange dream that had seemingly run on loop in his head while he was unconscious. All he could really recall was that he was trying to find Scully. He attempted to cat nap as the medical staff bustled around the room, alternately hushing him to get some rest, and then pulling him out of his daydream in order to take blood, switch out his IV, or take his blood pressure. He was really hoping that his bad reputation would guarantee him that early release. He wanted to go back home.

XXXXX

Scully could tell that the medical staff at the hospital did not appreciate her checking-in so often, but she didn't much care. Mulder was out of surgery, but was not yet awake. There was no need for her to travel to the West Coast; barring any complications, Mulder could be released as early as Friday—or was it later that day? Between the time difference and the late hours she was on the phone, she could barely remember what day it was.

Somehow, she had managed to sleep between phone calls, but she felt far from rested. Neither Nathan nor Will had stirred from their slumber after their nightmares, so she hoped they wouldn't be too cranky when they got up for the day. Yawning, she went about making coffee. It was almost 5:30 AM, close enough to her wakeup time to start the morning grind.

"What's going on?"

Scully jumped, startled by Kyle's rare early morning appearance. He looked as though he hadn't gotten much sleep himself; his pajamas were rumpled and he was rubbing his eyes.

"Your brothers got pretty loud," Scully began, hoping to buy herself a few more seconds before having to explain everything to the eleven-year-old. "Nightmares again."

"That's not it. You know what I mean. What's _really_ going on?" Kyle challenged her. He had a resolute look in his eye that signaled to his stepmother that he knew something was wrong.

"Your dad got hurt last night. But I just spoke to his surgeon, and he's fine and should be coming home in the next couple of days," Scully reassured him before launching into a full explanation of the events in San Francisco from the previous evening.

"But the girl is okay?" Kyle asked.

"She'll probably be in the hospital for a while, but she'll be okay," Scully cautiously explained. "And that's because your dad and Agent Addison found her in time."

Kyle looked down at the kitchen table. "What would have happened if Dad wasn't working on that case?"

"I don't know," Scully honestly answered. Although she was used to Kyle asking the hard questions, she was still caught off guard by his perceptiveness. She knew that Mulder had done his best to explain his work as a profiler in terms that his son would understand, and it seemed that Kyle had certainly picked up on what his father had conveyed. "But the important thing is that everyone is okay now."

Kyle stifled a yawn. "Did you have trouble sleeping last night?" Scully asked.

He nodded. "I had weird dreams," he mumbled. "I know I slept, but I feel really tired."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"It was weird," Kyle repeated after a moment. "I was looking for Dad. I think I was in high school. I was just trying to find him."

"Were you scared?" Scully asked gently, noting how Kyle was fiddling with a napkin, one of the nervous gestures he always swore he never made.

"Not really," answered Kyle as he continued to shred his napkin. "I think I was mad. Like I knew it would take a long time to find him, and I was really annoyed."

"Did you find your Dad by the time you woke up?"

"Yeah," nodded Kyle, his voice becoming more cheerful. "It was one of those things where he didn't realize I was looking for him, like he was totally surprised I was trying to find him. But we did have a dog named Bandit."

"Your hint is duly noted," smiled Scully, relieved that Kyle's dream wasn't quite a nightmare.

XXXXX

It wasn't until after Chris Addison entered the room, and Mulder instinctively held out his hand to his partner, that the pain in his shoulder hit him with full force. He bit his lip hard, trying not to convey any sense of discomfort to the nurses still in the room. "She's okay, Muldy," Addison told him as he flopped down on the uncomfortable visitor's chair. "Thanks to you, Sarah Webster is back home where she profile saved her life. I don't think any other agent working the case would have made the connections you did. We were lucky to have found her when she did. She was in rough shape, but she'll pull through."

The case. The kidnapping of a seven-year-old girl. The reason why he was in the hospital in the first place.

"That's good," Mulder nodded, hoping that his confusion wasn't as apparent as he feared. He needed to fake it, at least until he was cleared to travel home.

"I've been updating your family," Addison continued, speaking rapidly. "I know that you wouldn't have wanted them to find out about this on the news, so I kind of broke rank and called them when you were being transported. There were lots of television cameras, and we didn't know how bad you were at the time, so I probably caused some unnecessary distress. But they know you are okay."

Mulder nodded. "Phone?"

Addison handed him his battered mobile. Mulder awkwardly dialed Scully's cell phone. "Sc—"

He could barely get out his first word before Scully responded. "Mulder? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he wisecracked.

"That's not funny," Scully protested. "I want to talk to you but we're leaving for school now, and Kyle needs to say hi."

"Hey buddy," Mulder tried to sound as sunny as possible.

"When are you coming home?" Kyle asked.

"As soon as they throw me out of here, buddy," Mulder assured his oldest son. "But don't tell Dana that I'm going to try and sneak out, okay? That's our secret."

"Well you better do something really soon because we're supposed to get a hurricane tomorrow night, and you have to be here," Kyle chirped.

Mulder strained to hear his son over the voices of the surgical team on rounds echoing in from the hallway, and the background noise from the kitchen in Georgetown—he could practically make out everything Nathan was shouting word-for-word—and he had a difficult time trying to piece together what the eleven-year-old was saying. "I'm getting out of here as soon as possible," Mulder promised. "Don't worry."

XXXXX

"Do you think they'll cancel school tomorrow?" Kyle asked Scully during their drive to school.

"No, the storm is supposed to start tomorrow night, at the earliest," Scully answered with a smile. They weren't even a full week into the school year, and already Kyle and his friends were wishing for a vacation day. She didn't want to dash their hopes with the news that there was a possibility the storm would move out to sea. Since Kyle had first told her about the impending hurricane earlier in the week, she had made sure to catch up on the weather.

"So maybe they'll let us go home early?" added Colin hopefully.

"Probably not," Scully responded as she double-checked that the student drop-off placard was properly displayed. She had been scolded the day before by the so-called parking warden for not having placed it on the correct side of the dashboard.

"You'll tell me if something important happens, right?" Kyle asked quietly as Colin bounded out of the car. "Even if it's bad?"

"I'll always be honest with you," promised Scully. "Don't worry about that. Have a good day."

She ignored the violent honking from the minivan behind her, only pulling out of the drop-off zone after Kyle looked back, giving her a shy wave.

XXXXX

Mulder stared at the phone, wishing that it would ring. He was disappointed that he hadn't had the chance to really speak with Scully earlier, although he knew that it was only because Kyle needed to be reassured that he was okay. He imagined what Scully might be doing back in DC—getting home directly from the school run, or maybe after having squeezed in a couple of errands. He could picture the boys running around as soon as they entered the house, wiggling impatiently as Scully slipped off their sneakers and sweatshirts. Will would toddle around the living room, playing his version of hide and seek by running around the couch, while Nathan would make a beeline for his train set. Once they were settled with their toys, Scully would certainly pick up the phone and give him a call.

He fell back asleep as his mind went through a morning in the life of the Sculder household, and when the phone did ring, a smile spread across his face. "Believe it or not, they both went down for a morning nap at the same time. So we can only hope that it will last for a few minutes," Scully nervously said. "But that's it from me. How are you feeling?"

"I'm good," Mulder sleepily responded. "I can't wait to be home."

"Neither can we," Scully whispered.

XXXXXX

By the time Friday afternoon rolled around, the mood in the townhouse was somber at best. Kyle moped in the kitchen, half-heartedly completing his weekend homework, mostly to appease his stepmother, who had suggested that he might want to get it out of the way. He sighed as he pulled his math textbook out of his book bag; he worked on three problems before looking up at the clock, then the window, and then the phone. He worked through a similar pattern with his other subjects, and by the time he smelled the homemade pizza in the oven, he had completed his assignments.

"All done?" Scully asked as Kyle messily shoved his folders and textbooks back into his book bag.

"Yup," Kyle answered shortly, not meeting her sympathetic gaze. She had already explained to him that the chances of his father making it home before the storm hit was slim; by the time Mulder had been discharged from the hospital, he had missed the flight he intended to take home.

"Now you can do whatever you want for the rest of the weekend without having to worry about it," Scully said.

The glowering look she received from her stepson indicated otherwise. "Or not," she mumbled.

Although she felt terrible about the circumstances, she hoped that his mood would improve; three hours of a grumpy eleven-year-old were taking their toll on her sanity. She had tried to do whatever she could to cheer Kyle up a bit—making homemade pizza, picking up a couple of movies from the video store that she knew he had wanted to see, purposely putting a couple of sodas from her basement secret stash into the fridge. Still, nothing seemed to have worked.

"Do you want to watch _Men in Black_ or the Bond movie tonight?" Scully asked as she cut up some slices for Nathan and Will.

"Dad wanted to watch them more than me," Kyle answered, staring out the window.

Scully had expected that Kyle would retreat to his room after dinner, but he continued to lounge about the living room and kitchen, only running up to the third floor to change into pajamas. By the time she got back downstairs after putting the younger kids to bed, she noticed that Kyle had settled into a movie. While cleaning up the kitchen, she made a batch of microwave popcorn, which was the only other gesture of peace that she could think of; all summer long, Kyle and Mulder rather vocally proclaimed how much they hated the stovetop popcorn she preferred.

"Thanks," he mumbled as she handed him the warm bowl. "Are you going to have some?"

"If I do, you and your dad will never let me forget it," Scully quipped. "I do have a reputation to uphold."

"I promise I won't tell if you have some," said Kyle, extending the bowl towards her.

"I'm holding you to it," Scully warned as she took a handful.

An hour into _Men in Black_ (Kyle claimed he was only watching it to see if his father would like it), there was a rattling at the back door, prompting Scully to sit up stiffly. Kyle glanced nervously in her direction. "Did the wind knock something over?" he asked.

"Let me check it out," cautioned Scully. "Stay here." Judging from what she could see out the window, the storm wasn't strong enough to knock anything over. She carefully approached the backdoor, where she saw a sopping wet Mulder struggle with the key.

"Dad!"

Kyle bounded out from behind her; she should have known that there wasn't a chance in hell that the boy would stay in the living room as instructed.

"I knew you'd get here," Kyle cried as he clung to his father, who ruffled his hair with his good hand.

"I missed you, bud," Mulder replied, all while maintaining eye contact with Scully. "I missed all of you."

Scully waited impatiently for Kyle to unlatch himself from his father. She needed to feel Mulder, to touch him, to make sure that he was real. She had spent the past two days convincing herself that he wouldn't be home with them until Sunday, and all of the feelings she had compartmentalized were bursting at the seams. It wasn't until after Mulder asked Kyle to get him something to drink that the boy let go. Within seconds, Mulder crossed the hallway and Scully felt his tongue probing her mouth, his good hand running down her side, then squeezing her hip.

"I can't believe you're really here," Scully whispered as they reluctantly separated, burrowing her face in his chest. "Do I want to know how?"

"It's better if you aren't aware of the details," Mulder chuckled. "Plausible deniability and all that."

XXXXXX

The three of them sat through _Men in Black_, which Kyle rewound to the very beginning. Scully could tell that Mulder was exhausted, but was determined to watch the movie in the company of his son. He teased Scully over her choice of microwave popcorn, and bantered with Kyle throughout the film. By the time the closing credits scrolled down the screen, even Kyle was sleepy, and voluntarily sent himself up to bed.

The two adults soon followed suit. As Scully locked up, Mulder looked in on both of the younger boys, lingering over them as they slept. He kissed the tops of their heads, and rearranged their blankets as best he could, still a bit clumsy with his left hand. "They look bigger," he remarked to Scully as he closed the door to Will's room.

"They missed you," Scully said quietly. "Every morning, Will looked for you downstairs. And Nathan asked for you every night. And both of them a dozen times a day."

Scully led Mulder to bed, disappearing into the bathroom to find her stash of gauze pads, medical tape, and rubbing alcohol, rambling a bit about the importance of keeping a wound dry; both of them knew this was how she distracted herself from thinking about more serious maladies, like blood clots and infections. Mulder had prepared himself for a lecture, but needlessly so. "Why are you smiling?" Scully asked as she broke her cascade of medical jargon.

"You're cute when your nervous," Mulder said after peeling off his jeans. He sat up on the bed, adjusting the pillows along his back.

Scully rolled her eyes as she set the medical supplies on the bedside table. She sat next to him, helping him peel off his shirt. She drew a deep breath when she saw the patchwork of bandages on his right chest and shoulder.

"I've found that this is only fun when you pull the trigger," Mulder quipped, wincing as Scully removed the bandages.

"When was the last time you changed these?" Scully asked; one quick look confirmed that she didn't like the answer.

"These need to be changed three times a day, at least," she continued, gently dabbing the area with disinfectant.

Mulder shifted slightly, tugging Scully's left hip with his good arm. "Good thing my personal physician is on call," he murmured. "She does good work-her patients never complain."

Scully shot him another eye roll, trying to resist the urge to chuckle. He was always quick with a pathologist-themed joke.

"You know, Scully, this might be easier if you moved a bit to the left," Mulder continued, his voice dropping.

Scully didn't know how he had the strength and dexterity to do it, but within seconds she found herself straddling him. "This is good," she admitted. "But things will be even better for both of us if you don't distract me for the next two minutes."

Mulder pouted, turning his attention to unzipping her jeans.

"_Mul-der,_" Scully protested as she wiggled on his lap. "Neither of us are going to get any if I don't tape this up correctly."

"There won't be a problem if you can get it done in ten seconds," he promised.

He sat still long enough for her to cover his wounds, and as soon she tossed the half-used roll of medical tape, Mulder was tugging off her shirt with his good hand. "You are overdressed," he commented as she proceeded to strip while remaining seated, which was no easy feat.

"I've been picturing this moment all week," he said gently as they quickly found a rhythm. His words trailed into silence as his mouth became otherwise occupied—on her neck, her shoulder blades, her breasts. It was almost too soon when he began to feel the tell-tale flutter that she was close. "This exact moment, Scully. I love you so much," he whispered slowly, in gasps, as she finally brought him-them-over the edge. He sat back on the pillows as Scully slumped on his chest.

After a few seconds of silence, Scully finally spoke."Mulder, I was so scared. They said you went in without backup, without a vest. You promised me that you would be careful."

"I had to make a choice, Scully. I knew that girl was in there," Mulder explained. "All I could think about was if the situation had been reversed. If I knew that our boys were trapped in a house, and whether I would want a fully-trained officer milling around the property, knowing that they were near death and not opening the door."

"And that's what makes it so hard, Mulder. You followed your instincts, and you were right, and you saved that girl, but you still got hurt," Scully said, tears pricking her eyes. "It's not fair. It's never been fair for us."

"We're okay, Scully," Mulder assured her as he continued to hold her close. "We're both here, we're safe, and we're going to be okay."

XXXXXX

Despite the wind and rain that battered the windows, all three boys slept through the night. When they heard Will babbling through the baby monitor, the next morning, Mulder moved to get him, but Scully pointed out that he shouldn't be lifting him in and out of his crib. After a diaper change, they returned, and Scully's heart fluttered at the sight of the grins that crossed the faces of both father and son. Will climbed all over his dad, and all three of them even managed to get some more sleep. It wasn't long before Nathan ran into the bedroom in full force, clutching Woofy and immediately trying to joing his father and brother.

While Mulder spent some quality time with the boys, Scully slipped downstairs to start making breakfast, pulling out the waffle iron. Somehow Kyle's sixth sense for food kicked in, and he appeared at the breakfast table much earlier than usual, at least for a weekend morning.

"Hey Scully, where's the mail?" Mulder asked later that morning. They were both in the living room, sitting in the middle of a pile of toys with Nathan and Will; Kyle was sprawled on the couch, playing video games.

She looked at him blankly. "I think I tossed it in the study," she said, standing up. "Are you looking for something in particular?"

"Just curious," Mulder said. "Don't get up."

"No, it's fine," replied Scully, returning with a pile of envelopes and a magazine, which Mulder tossed over to Kyle. He mindlessly flipped through the small stack of bank statements, credit card offers, and junk mail, until he came across an envelope, with no return address, scrawled in familiar handwriting.

"What is it?" Scully asked as she settled down on the floor, accepting some blocks from Will, who had just knocked over a tower he had built.

"I don't know," Mulder murmured, as he carefully slit it open. The bonded paper felt heavy in his hand, and he immediately thought of his parents, who always kept a supply of expensive stationery on hand. It was folded into thirds, and when he finally read it, he stiffened.

"What is it?" Scully asked quietly, not wanting the kids to pick up on her sense of alarm.

Mulder handed the paper to her, awkwardly getting up from the floor, ignoring Kyle's cries that he was blocking his view of the television screen. Scully scanned the handwritten note, which only read _I am safe but I need you to find me_. The cursive was loopy, and almost juvenile—Scully was no handwriting analyst, but from her experience, it looked like something that had been ripped out of an adolescent's diary. She saw a faint watermark on the bottom right of the envelope—SCD.

SCD. Sandra C. DePrens. _Samantha_.

"Where was it sent from?" Scully asked after following Mulder in the kitchen. She glanced at the clock; it was early, but if she got the boys settled with lunch now, they might start the afternoon with a long nap.

Mulder threw the envelope onto the kitchen counter, and Scully could see traces of anger in his movement. She reached over the granite countertop and snatched it.

It carried no postage stamp.

Fuck, Scully thought. "I have no idea," she started, half-apologizing. "I haven't looked at the mail all week."

"That's interesting," Mulder pushed. "Considering you are usually a Type A when it comes to these things."

"Mulder, I honestly don't know when this arrived," she explained. "I've been more than a little busy with ear infections, school runs, and shit, Mulder, I don't owe you an explanation."

Scully soaked in the guilt that came from Mulder's outburst. She had not only failed at making any headway with Samantha's medical records, but she had also apparently failed at doing basic chores.

"I didn't mean to lash out like that. I'm not angry," Mulder apologized, looking out the window, looking anywhere but in her direction. "Langly can go through the security tapes. He set up the street-side cameras before I left."

"The handwriting—do you really think that could be her?" Scully gently prodded, afraid to say Samantha's name out loud.

"She has a nine-year-old daughter, Scully," Mulder testily answered. "I'm not—I just need a minute. It's not you, I promise, I just…"

Scully watched helplessly as Mulder kicked the kitchen counter and wandered off.

XXXXX

Maybe what Mulder had needed was lunch and a nap, Scully surmised. He ignored her all throughout lunch, not speaking until she brought the boys upstairs, telling her that he was taking over. When she had checked in on them twenty minutes later, the three of them were fast asleep in the master bedroom, a Winnie-the-Pooh book lying on the floor. By the time they woke up a couple of hours later, they were all in much better moods.

After waking, when Mulder, complete with rumpled bedhead and dry eyes, first saw Scully, he immediately apologized, this time looking straight in her eyes. "I shouldn't have done that," he said. "I didn't mean to accuse you of anything. I just reacted, and I want you to know that I didn't mean to imply anything. It was a low blow."

Scully nodded. "It hurt," she admitted. "Even though I know you were blowing off steam, it still hurt. This week hasn't been easy."

"I know," Mulder said solemnly as he bent down to kiss her. He sincerely felt bad for what he said and for how he said it. When he saw the envelope, his mind immediately led to the mystery surrounding Samantha—the note, the handwriting, what it meant, the lack of postage, how it had been delivered.

But most of all, he was angry at himself for having reacted by mentally shoving aside the family time he had so desperately craved all week, in favor of mulling over his sister's reappearance. Months ago, Scully had asked him whether they—she and the kids—would be enough for him. At the time, he had been shocked by the question, but now, he understood why it had been warranted in the first place.

"We'll figure it out," Mulder continued as they broke apart. "But let's get back to dinosaurs and blocks."

XXXXXX

Afternoon playtime was a bit more boisterous than it had been in the morning, and judging by the amount of laughter that emanated from the living room, it was also much more fun. "You take a shower," Mulder told Scully as she fussed over the beef stew that had been simmering in the slow cooker all day. "I can handle occasionally stirring a pot with my left hand. We're good down here."

"Okay," Scully said, grateful for the break. "I won't be long."

Will busied himself with his alphabet magnets, while Nathan disappeared under the kitchen table. "What are you doing down there, buddy?" Mulder asked his middle child.

"Shhh," Nathan theatrically whispered.

"Generally you have to be a bit quieter when you say that," instructed Mulder with good humor. He knew Nathan was up to something; the two-year-old was entirely too quiet for his own good.

Within seconds, Mulder had it figured out. "No, buddy, that's a really bad idea," Mulder sighed as he did his best to pull the toddler from his hiding space. The innocent look that Nathan displayed gave his away his guilt. "You can't draw on the walls."

Nathan looked down at the floor, and then gave his father a sly grin before giggling.

"Time out," Mulder warned, Nathan's face immediately crumpling.

Mulder faced his second moral dilemma of the day, and immediately decided to take the coward's way out. Judging by the amount of artwork on the wall, Nathan had been up to his mischievous behavior all week. At least it was mostly hidden from view. Not wanting to see Scully beat herself up all over again, Mulder decided not to expose their budding Picasso quite yet. "This is our secret, Nathan, at least for today. But no more. No."

"Yes!"

"No."

"Yes!" Nathan argued as he continued to giggle.

Mulder managed to distract Nathan with his farm animal puzzle before Scully returned downstairs, keeping the boy busy until dinner was ready.

As they finished eating, Mulder glanced over at Scully, flashing her a special smile, which she returned with a wink and a nod. "Kyle, guess who emailed me this week," Mulder casually stated as he stirred his stew.

"Your boss?"

"Smart ass," Mulder chuckled. "No, it was someone named Beth Powers."

"Oh my God," Kyle shouted, dropping his spoon, splattering stew over the table. "She's the taysia blue siberian husky breeder."

Scully couldn't help but smile; this was the moment Kyle had been waiting for over the past several months.

"She has some puppies for us to look at next weekend," Mulder explained. "They won't be ready to bring home for another couple of weeks, but you might be able to meet your new dog next Saturday. I was thinking we could drive down there after your first game. What do you think?"

"Yes!" Kyle nodded. "I'm finally getting a dog."

Nathan and Will both perked up, catching on to their older brother's excitement. "Doggy?" Nathan asked.

"My dog," Kyle immediately argued, albeit good naturally.

"Mine."

"Mine."

"Mine."

Scully and Mulder smiled one another as all three boys began to chime.

"Bandit is going to be my puppy," Kyle insisted.

Mulder suddenly dropped his spoon on the floor, his face ashen. "Mulder?" Scully asked, touching his shoulder. "Are you sick?"

"I'm okay," he slowly said. "I just, um, I just felt a sharp pain all of a sudden."

"Let me get your painkillers," Scully offered as she picked up the cutlery. "Will needs his antibiotics anyway."

"Did you talk about the name Bandit this summer at all?" Mulder asked his son."You and Peter came up with a long list."

"No, I had a dream the other night that I had a dog named Bandit," Kyle chirped. "that's where it came from."

With that, Mulder slumped to the floor; his entire dream came rushing back—trying to find Scully, Nathan with Samantha, Will with the dog, Kyle with the little girl who wasn't Emily.

He remembered.


	31. Chapter Thirty

The next thing Mulder knew, Scully was at his side, trying to help him sit up. She managed to prop him against one of the kitchen cabinets, instructing Kyle to find some Gatorade and a straw for his father. "You didn't hit your head, but I think your right shoulder is bruised up now too," Scully said to him as he checked his pulse.

Have you been feeling light headed all day?" Scully continued, cradling Mulder's face, looking for any signs of confusion. Mulder let out a low gasp as he felt Scully's feather light touches run down his face, neck, then shoulders. He began to focus as he reoriented himself to the world.

"Daddy boom!" Will cried from his high chair as he banged his spoon on the plastic tray.

"Can you help me up?" Mulder moaned, still in a daze.

"I don't want you trying to stand yet," pleaded Scully as she kept her hands on his shoulders, trying to keep him sitting still.

"I just got dizzy," protested Mulder.

"And that's all the more reason for you to stay where you are," Scully instructed. She took the Gatorade from Kyle, and held it towards Mulder. "Just sip this, okay?"

"Let me hold it at least," Mulder grumbled. "It's bad enough you are making me use a straw."

"You probably haven't been drinking enough," she said, annoyed at herself for not monitoring his fluids more closely. "Just sit here for a minute, okay?"

Before throwing out a sarcastic response, Mulder stopped himself, as he looked up and realized how exhausted Scully looked. Her head was half-turned as she moved towards the kitchen table, and despite the reassuring smile he saw her give Nathan, all he could think was that she was practically dead on feet.

Mulder felt a twinge of guilt as he slowly sipped his drink, thinking about how he had snapped at her earlier that day. Although he had been frustrated by the hand-delivered note, and frightened for his family's safety, making a crack about her type A personality had been a low-blow. It was the kind of asshole move he made early on in their partnership, excusing his behavior by convincing himself that it was a way to test her loyalty and resolve. As he sat there on the hardwood floor, blankly looking at the chaos their sons made at the dinner table—Will clearly more interested in wearing his food more than eating it, Nathan chatting loudly while trying to stand up on his booster seat, Kyle digging into his third helping of stew—he realized that it was only a small piece of what she had been doing, by herself, for a week straight.

"Daddy go boom!"

Mulder blinked, realizing that Will was now standing next to him. How had that happened? He looked back at the table, where Scully was now trying her best to hose Nathan down with a washcloth, which the two-year-old was resisting with full force.

"I sure did, little monster," agreed Mulder as he gathered Will onto his lap.

"Let Daddy finish his drink," Scully gently called out to Will.

"We're doing fine," Mulder waved her off, holding Will closer. "I'm feeling a lot better."

Scully looked approvingly at the empty Gatorade bottle. "Do you think you can make it to the couch?" she asked. "I don't want you climbing the stairs just yet."

"I'll help," Kyle offered. Mulder could tell that he was eager to do something.

"Make sure he stays on the couch," instructed Scully. "I'll be down after these guys get their baths. Let's go, Willster. It's time for some splash-splash."

"No bath," Nathan whined, wrapping himself around his mother's leg and sitting on her foot, his surefire method of prolonging the inevitable.

Scully good-naturedly rolled her eyes—it was all part of their nightly, post-dinner ritual. "Let's get moving, monkey. Baths are more fun than time out, right?"

Nathan pouted, releasing his mother's leg in order to roll around the floor. "Nathan," Mulder called out, only to be ignored by his son.

"He's tired more than anything. We've been playing this game all week. He gets it out of his system pretty quickly," Scully explained. "Nathan, time out for three minutes."

"No!" Nathan got himself off the floor and made a beeline for the staircase.

Scully flashed Mulder a knowing look as she herded the boys upstairs.

"Are they like this every night?" Mulder asked Kyle as he helped him to his feet.

"Just for a little while," Kyle shrugged, patiently waiting as Mulder caught his breath. "Dana says they get cranky when they are tired."

"Fuck," Mulder swore under his breath as he caught sight of something on the table.

"What's wrong?" Kyle asked, a look of alarm crossing his face.

"Nothing," Mulder muttered. "Just remembered something, that's all."

The relatively short walk from the kitchen floor to the living room couch winded Mulder more than he would have liked to admit. He settled in on the sofa, and upon realizing that Kyle wasn't leaving, he decided to bite the bullet head-on. "So tell me about this dream you had the other night," he said to his oldest son.  
XXXXXXX  
Somehow, even without having left the house that day, both boys were dirty from head to toe, with crumbs, dirt, dust, and bits of crayon and chalk falling to the tiled floor as she helped them into the tub. "How'd you get so dirty?" she asked them, knowing that the answer probably had to do with the fact that they were the children of Fox Mulder.

"Dewrty!" Will repeated.

"Scully smiled. Since the antibiotics had kicked in, Will had been talking up a storm, using an increasing number of new words. She hoped that they would be able to get tubes in his ears sooner rather than later. She could only imagine the discomfort that the eighteen-month-old was battling, all while maintaining his cheerful nature.

"What color is the ducky?" Scully asked Nathan, who was holding the toy tightly as Will splashed beside him, chewing on a tugboat.

"Yellow," Nathan responded with a pout. Although he hadn't dissolved into another temper tantrum, he was still quite put out that he needed to have a bath.

"Good job, monkey," smiled Scully. Just as she was about to quiz him on another color, the room suddenly plunged into darkness, prompting both boys to burst into tears.

"Let's get you guys out of here," Scully said, more to herself than to them, carefully picking up Will and setting him on a terrycloth towel before doing the same with Nathan. Just as she got him out of the tub, Kyle ran into the room. "Dad told me to come up here and see if you need help," he said, a tad out of breath. "I looked out the window and I think everyone lost power."

"Can you get a couple of flashlights from the laundry room?" Scully asked. "They should be in cabinet above the washer and dryer. Get one for your dad too. And tell him to stay in the living room." The last thing she needed was for a dizzy Mulder to fall down a flight of stairs during a hurricane.

Nathan sniffled and crawled into her lap, soaking wet. "Want Daddy," he said between hiccups.

"We'll be down there once we get you in your pajamas," she promised. "Kyle's going to get us a flashlight, okay? And then we'll be able to find Woofy, and get your Thomas PJs, and then Daddy can read you a bedtime story.

Kyle bounded up the stairs, shining his flashlight directly into his little brothers' faces. Will immediately stretched out his arms, letting out a squeal when Kyle moved the beam of light. "Me too!" Nathan whined.

"Can you keep them distracted while I try to clean them up for bed?" Scully asked.

Kyle nodded wordlessly. Will, clad in Big Bird pajamas, toddled over to him, eager to touch the flashlight. Once it was in his grasp, Will moved it around quickly, giggling as the light danced around the room. As soon as Nathan was dried off and in his own sleepwear, he ran towards the other boys, reaching for the flashlight. Will emitted a gruff "no" along with a worried look, which prompted Kyle to laugh and hand Nathan his own flashlight.

Scully smiled as she saw the three of them play. It didn't happen too often; it was clear that both toddlers adored their older brother, and whenever she tried to tell Kyle, he would just deflect the compliment and change the subject, reminiscent of how his father oftentimes refused to take praise for his work. Still, Scully worried that Kyle was having trouble accepting all of the changes that had occurred over the past six months. His first appointment with his new psychologist was set for the next week, and although she personally found it difficult to open up to therapists, she was impressed that he insisted on meeting with her and Mulder as well.

Armed with flashlights, books, and stuffed animals, the trio headed back downstairs, where Mulder was sprawled on the couch, playing around with his own flashlight. "I was wondering where you guys were. Did you go to the zoo?" he asked the boys, prompting them a round of protests. "Or did you go to the beach?"

Scully smiled as she helped Will onto the couch, as Nathan pulled himself onto his father's lap. Kyle was lying down on the floor, his head propped up by a throw pillow, flicking his flashlight on and off, swirling it around so the light bounced around the ceiling. "There's room for you right here," Mulder said, patting the sofa cushion, as he noticed Scully standing aimlessly, lost in thought.

"I'm soaking wet," she shook her head. "I need to get changed."

"But you're coming right back?" Mulder trailed.

Scully couldn't see his face, but she sensed a trace of anxiety in his voice. "I'll be back in five minutes," she promised, bending down to squeeze his knee. She felt him tug at the hem of her shirt, as though he needed to confirm her excuse for himself.

"They got you good, partner," he said softly.

"They have unusually good aim," Scully responded breezily. "Are you okay to sit with them?"

"I'm feeling great. I just—just hurry back," Mulder whispered. If Scully didn't know better, she would guess that he was whining.  
XXXX  
Kyle inwardly groaned upon overhearing his father's conversation with Dana. She was just going upstairs; why did he have to be so mushy? Mulder hadn't acted like that when she had left to give his brothers their baths a few minutes earlier. Everything had been great until the power had gone out; he was telling his father about his dream, and they started talking about the dog. But as soon as the lights went dead, his father immediately stopped their conversation, and instructed him to go upstairs and check to see if Dana needed anything.

Kyle wanted to keep talking to his father, just the two of them. Now he would have to sit through bedtime stories and listen to his brothers try and talk. He didn't know why his dad and Dana always asked his brothers questions when they didn't know too many words. It was slow and boring and he would rather sit through one of his math teacher's lectures instead. He could always go up to his room, but he was afraid that if he did that, then his father would end up talking to Dana, and they wouldn't finish their conversation about their new dog. The best case scenario, Kyle mused, would be if his brothers fell asleep really soon, and Dana decided to go to bed early. Maybe she would make his dad sleep in the living room so he wouldn't have to try and climb the stairs, and then he could get his sleeping bag and it would be like a camping trip. He wondered whether the fireplace worked, and if so, whether they would be able to make s'mores.

"Hey, bud?"

Kyle sat up, snapping to attention. "Yup?" he asked hopefully. Maybe his dad wanted him to walk his brothers upstairs.

"Can you clean up the kitchen a bit? Just make sure that the food is in the fridge and dishes are in the sink?"

He frowned. "Okay," he said quietly, hoping that he was able to hide at least some of his annoyance. The last thing he wanted was his father to get mad at him, and send him to his room, or worse yet, threaten to cancel their trip to find their new puppy.

It wasn't that he hated his chores; it was just that there was no point in doing them when Dana always cleaned anyway, so it didn't really matter whether he cleared the table or swept the floor. Kyle dragged himself to the kitchen, and quickly gathered the soup bowls and utensils, dumping everything into the sink. At least he didn't have to hear his brothers' baby talk and listen to his father quiz them about colors and shapes and letters and numbers.

"Thanks for doing that."

Kyle suddenly turned around, mumbling to his stepmother that it was no big deal.

"They'll be asleep soon," Dana promised. "So what do you think about the plan for a new puppy?"

"It's good," Kyle half-heartedly replied, before realizing that he should at least make an effort to be more chipper. "I'm excited."

Scully frowned. She knew that Kyle had been yammering to spend time with his father all day, and that Mulder had been focusing most of his energy on the younger boys. Still, she thought the eleven-year-old would have brightened at the thought of their new dog. "You know, your brothers are pretty tired," she assured him. "I'll bring them upstairs after their story."

Kyle reflexively smiled, hoping that he wasn't giving himself away; at least Dana couldn't see his face. "Do we need to throw anything out from the fridge?" he asked as he saw her pilfer through it.

"Not quite yet," Scully answered, still rooting around the fridge, doing her best to not knock anything over. "I'll do a clean-out in the morning. We'll probably have to toss the dairy, at least. I thought I would try and use up the yogurt now."

"So that means we should eat some ice cream so it doesn't go to waste, right?" Kyle asked.

"Go for it," Scully said, her french vanilla yogurt finally in hand. As soon as she pulled a spoon out of the drawer, she heard Mulder call her name from the living room, leaving her to abandon her snack on the counter.

She returned to the kitchen a moment later, toting Will on one hip. "Medicine time, Willster," she said quietly to the cranky baby.

"Can you hold him?" Scully asked Kyle.

Kyle shrugged, sitting down at the kitchen table. Once his stepmother placed Will on his lap, the one-year-old quieted. Kyle instinctively tightened his hold on his brother, and felt the baby lean back into his grasp, tapping his arms with his chubby hands. "He's going to squirm when he sees the medicine," Scully explained. "Just keep holding him like that."

Will yelped a little as he swallowed his penicillin and scrunched up his face afterwards, shrieking when his mother tried to lift him up. "Are we playing the bad mommy game?" Scully asked wearily.

"It's okay, Will," Kyle told his younger brother, keeping a firm hold on him. "Your mom isn't too bad."

Scully looked on, observing the two brothers. She wasn't offended by Kyle's comment in the least; in sixth grade terms, emtoo badem in reference to an adult was as good as it was ever going to get. She watched Will sleepily settle against his brother, holding Doggy with one hand and just being uncharacteristically quiet. Kyle was always very patient with Will; with Nathan, on the other hand, not so much.

Scully had always chalked it up to Nathan's age more than anything; she was sure that once Will picked up a few words and grew into the terrible twos, Kyle would lose patience with him as well. Still, she wondered how much of it had to do with personality, then chided herself for getting so morose. Sibling dynamics were always complicated; hell, her relationships with her three siblings were all extraordinarily different. She just hoped that they grew to emulate some combination of the dynamics she shared with Charlie and Melissa.  
XXXX  
Sure enough, the toddlers fell asleep fairly quickly, and Kyle helped Scully bring them upstairs to bed, leading the way with his flashlight. After changing into his own pajamas, Kyle bounded back down to the living room, his enthusiasm waning when he saw his father and Dana lying down on the couch, wrapped up in that Navajo blanket that his father loved so much.

"Hey, bud," Mulder called out upon seeing his oldest son enter the room. "Are you up for some ghost stories?"

When he finally went up to bed a couple of hours later, Kyle had to admit to himself that he had fun, even though Dana was there. It wasn't the same as spending time with his father one-on-one, but it wasn't terrible either.  
XXXX  
Mulder held his tongue when Scully insisted that he drink some water once he finally made it up to their bedroom. His no longer felt light-headed, but at the same time, the throbbing in his shoulder was getting worse. He was hesitant to request pain medication, fearing that Scully would start to hover more than she already had that evening, but when she pressed two capsules in his palm along with his glass, he let out a small sigh of relief.

"What happened, Mulder?" Scully asked him. He could practically see the frown in her face, the one that reflexively accompanied that particular sound in her voice. She settled into bed on her side, facing him. "I know it was something more than feeling faint."

"How could you tell?" he gulped, wondering if Scully sensed the nervousness in his voice.

"That glassy stare," responded Scully. "It was the same one you gave me when we were in that room with Modell."

Mulder shivered. The time he almost killed her, he remembered. Was that really only two-and-a-half years ago? "Stay with me on this one," he said softly. "I think I had the same nightmare—dream—vision—whatever you want to call it, as Kyle."

"How so?" she asked shakily, her eyes wide. Mulder could feel her trembling.

"I was looking for you, and the boys," he began. "I saw Nathan with Samantha and her daughter. Will was playing with a dog named Bandit. Kyle was there too. They were all a little older."

He decided not to tell her about the little girl who had been holding Kyle's hand. It would be too heartbreaking, for both of them. He might have decided otherwise if Kyle had mentioned a younger sister when talking about his own dream, but since that did not happen, he pushed those thoughts away. One step at a time, he old himself.

"When did you have this dream?" Scully asked slowly.

"The night I was shot," Mulder finished, reaching over to play with a lock of her hair. "I know—you told me that all three kids had trouble sleeping, especially that night."

"Mulder, no," Scully sternly responded, holding a hand onto his. "You said it yourself—Kyle talked about a zillion different puppy names all summer. Your dreams have always been sharper, more vivid, when you're hyped up on an anesthetic or painkillers. How do you even know if you actually had that dream on Wednesday night? You were in and out of consciousness, you could have just been remembering an older dream any point in time. It was just a coincidence that both you and Kyle remembered that dream. I'm sure at any other given point in time, you've both had that dream, or one similar to it."

"Nathan and Will, they've both been bad sleepers this week—you said it yourself," Mulder continued.

"Don't even...please, Mulder, they're babies. Keep them out of this, please," Scully rushed, her voice tense and pleading. "They missed you, Will was sick, we haven't gotten into a routine yet—there are dozens of reasons for them not to be sleeping soundly every night. Don't even try to figure out what they dreamed. They're too young, they're-"

"I didn't mean to upset you," responded Mulder defensively, with more than a hint of exasperation in his voice.

"I'm not upset," Scully said defensively. "I'm just—It's just been a long day. I'm tired, and hungry, and—"

"Then maybe you should have eaten dinner," Mulder shot back, before cringing. He didn't mean to let that factoid slip out as an accusation.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Scully asked, stiffening, raising herself up.

He inwardly groaned. Hours earlier, when he had first spotted her nearly-full bowl of stew on the kitchen table, all he could think about was how she had been running herself ragged all week, and she had so deftly hid her exhaustion. She had played the role of supermom and life partner extraordinaire without anyone realizing how new she actually was to the role. He had intended to bring it up subtly, and carefully—maybe by pushing her out of the house to have a few hours to herself, or by convincing her to take a long soak in the tub, even if it meant locking her in their bathroom.

But instead, he had flung it in her face, and not too nicely either. Instead of acknowledging what she had been going through, he had cheapened her actions.

"That didn't come out right," he lamely defended himself. Even though they were in the pitch dark, he could see her eyebrow arch. "I just meant that I know you've been running around all week, and if you didn't get the chance to eat dinner when I was here, you most certainly haven't been able to get much to eat when feeding the boys all week."

"So I can't handle feeding myself, along with not being able to open the mail," Scully huffed, her voice wounded. "Would you like to lodge any other complaints?"

"Stop it," Mulder snapped. "You know I didn't mean it like that."

"Actually, Mulder, I don't know how meant it." Scully challenged him.

"Parenthood—this isn't easy, Scully. And it's okay for you to want a break, or to say that this has been rough," Mulder said evenly, cupping her chin. "You haven't had it easy this week."

"No," Scully quivered. "I'm not going to be like those mothers at the playground, or the parents at the pediatrician's office, who complain about the children all the time. I wanted this so badly, Mulder. I'm not going to waste this. This is what we signed up for—good day or bad day not withstanding. But I'm not going to do that—I'm not going to complain about the people I love most in the world. Every tantrum, every timeout, every hug, every bedtime story—I treasure it. I'm not taking any of this for granted."

So that was it, Mulder mused. It wasn't so much a week of non-stop Sesame Street and Richard Scarry and carpooling that got to her, but navigating the other parents.

"Come here," he softly said, relieved when she immediately rolled to his side, practically tucking herself under his chin. "I'm not asking you take this for granted. I just want to let you know that we are doing this together, and it's okay to need some time for yourself. I shouldn't have brought it up like this, Scully…I love you."

"I love you too," she faintly replied before closing her eyes.  
XXXXX  
When he woke up early the next morning, he could hear the pitter patter of rain drops splashing against the windows. Although his conversation with Scully technically hadn't been resolved, he still felt that they had at least both aired some of the things on which they had been dwelling. Her reaction to his theory that he and the boys shared the same dream wasn't completely unexpected; however, the rest of it, most notably her reluctance to talk about the challenges of parenthood, were still somewhat worrisome. Not unsurmountable, but it weighed on him all the same.

After a visit to the bathroom, and poking his head down the hall to make sure that the kids were still asleep, Mulder slipped back into bed, accidentally-on-purpose waking up his partner. "The power's still out," he whispered in her ear. "And the boys are down for the count."

"So what are you suggesting we do?" Scully whispered a bit saucily, rubbing against him. "Or are you still sleepy?"

"We haven't had makeup sex in awhile," Mulder throatily suggested, nipping at the nape of her neck.

"So that was the plan all along?" Scully asked.

"Not necessarily. An intended consequence for sure, though," he murmured, capturing her lips into a deep kiss, rolling her onto her back and untangling her from her tank top. She wordlessly lifted her hips so he could tug off her pajama pants. She had missed this while he was gone. Although they had made love the other night, it was completely different. While she loved how they could be slow, lingering, and gentle while together, she thrived on their heated, needy, intense lovemaking. She felt his hands everywhere, and all of a sudden, his knees were parting her legs, which then bent up to her ears, and she felt him, deep, hard, pulsing, and then everything was shaking. Her, him, the bed, the door.

_The door?_

Mulder's head snapped back when he heard the commotion, forgetting all thoughts about his state of undress.

"Chaos. Yelling. It took a few seconds for him to register that he and Scully were not alone, and that two of his sons were staring at him. Well, one was staring with a look of horror on his face, immediately shielding his eyes from the scene in front of him by hiding behind his waving hands, while the other was busy looking at the toys in his hand, talking loudly, seemingly oblivious to the scene around him.

"Out!" Mulder yelled.

"This is gross!"

"But I want—"

"Get out!" Mulder attempted to get out of the bed, only to be met by screams of horror from his oldest son, who fled the room.

"Daddy has no pants," Nathan chirped unhelpfully, staring his father down, who was motioning for him to leave. "My train—"

"Wait for us in your room, monkey," Scully called out, mortified. She could feel her entire body go red with humiliation as she sank deeper into the bed, throwing a pillow over herself.

"But my train—" Nathan wailed.

Mulder picked up the two-year-old, placing him in the hallway before slamming the door shut and locking it. Down the hall, they could hear Will's startled cries, as well as Nathan's incessant thumping on the door.

"I guess I forgot to the lock it," Mulder grumbled, banging his head against the wall.  
XXXXX  
Scully knew she had the easy job in calming down the younger boys, and didn't envy Mulder one bit. While Nathan and Will could be a lot to handle before her first cup of coffee for the day, she at this point was an old pro on parenting sans caffeine. For Mulder, however, it was a completely different story. By the time he joined her and the boys downstairs, Scully had boiled water for English Breakfast tea, the best they could do, caffeine-wise, without any electricity. Three mugfuls later, Mulder sullenly slumped in his chair, occasionally taking a peek under the table to make sure Nathan wasn't adding any more artwork on the wall. He figured he would put off on mentioning that, at least for the day.

"Now you're just procrastinating," Scully finally said, pouring some more Cheerios into Will's bowl.

Mulder sighed, listening to Nathan blabber to his trains, wondering whether he would be able to sneak some painkillers with his tea without Scully noticing.

"You're going to have to talk to him eventually," she pointed out as he continued to debate whether he was willing to sacrifice a midday Vicodin under the circumstances. "You might as well get it over with. Then you can have your painkillers."

"I knew the day was coming that I would have to have The Talk with him," Mulder mumbled, a bit put out that Scully had figured out he was contemplating delivering said conversation while under the influence of a narcotic. "But not quite like this."

"One day, we'll find this very funny," Scully offered, biting her lip. At least she had been mostly hidden by the comforter, pillows, and, well, Mulder. The same certainly could not be said for him.

"Not any time soon," grumbled Mulder. "I do get the satisfaction of giving a lecture on the importance of knocking on a door before entering a room, right?"

"A lecture is warranted," agreed Scully. "But it might not make you feel any better.

Nathan crawled out from under the table, making a beeline towards the tumbler of juice he had abandoned on his booster seat.

"Nathan, put your pants back on," Scully pleaded. He had already taken them off twice since she had brought him downstairs for breakfast.

"No pants," the two-year-old sternly said to his mother, before crawling back under the table.

"I know, I know, it's my fault," Mulder groaned as he got up to retrieve Nathan. "Timeout for both of us, right, little critter?"  
XXXXX  
"Did you actually talk to him, or were you just hiding upstairs?" Scully asked Mulder when he reappeared nearly two hours later. The sullen look on his face indicated to her that the answer was both.

"Good thing I'll have about ten years before having to do that again," he quipped as he lowered himself to the floor, while Nathan shoved some slobbery toys in his hand.

"Did he say why he wanted to talk to you in the first place?" Scully asked as she watched Will knock over a tower of blocks.

"Something about how Nathan was pestering him to play with him," Mulder said. "To be honest, I don't think he remembers."

A few minutes later, they heard thuds emanating from the staircase, some slams coming from the kitchen, and a pair of feet bounding back up to the third floor.

"Something tells me that he'll be keeping a low profile for the next couple of days," Mulder explained.  
XXXX  
Kyle didn't make eye contact with either of them until Tuesday morning, and even then, it was only for a few moments at breakfast; Scully guessed it was too early for him to remember the absurdity—and awkwardness—from Sunday's fiasco.

That night, Mulder, still unable to drive, caught a ride home from work with his partner, arriving just as the toddlers were finishing their early dinner. "You sent me a package?" he asked Scully without preface, holding up a battered box as he entered the kitchen.

Scully whipped her head around from her perch at the stove. "I completely forgot," she said, abandoning the chicken she was sautéing.

"The hotel forwarded it to the San Francisco office, and they sent it to me," he explained, placing the package on the counter. "Andnow I have some monkey and bullfrog artwork in my office.

Scully couldn't help but smile; she wasn't sure what had come over Mulder. Even just the previous evening, he talked about his intent to keep a low-profile at the Bureau, bragging to her about how he kept his left hand hidden during a meeting. He found out through Holly that there was a pretty large wager riding on whether he had indeed married Scully, and he was going to milk it for all that it was worth.

"We wanted to let you know we were thinking of you," she grinned. After the rather chaotic weekend, she had found herself falling into a routine that included a regular naptime for the boys, which had allowed her to progress with her timeline and analysis of Samantha's medical records. She felt as though she had accomplished something, which had improved her mood greatly. "I guess you liked it?"

"It blew me away," he replied, giving the toddlers high-fives. "It wasn't until I saw the pictures that these guys made that it really clicked. I used to go into other people's offices all the time, and see their kid's artwork, and I would barely give it a second thought. And now I have my own," he said. "And I know that will be inviting questions, but you know what? I don't care."

"You got the notes and the seeds, too, right?"

"The seeds, and Kyle's book report, and his note, got all that," recounted Mulder, who began to hover over the stove, poking at the chicken with a fork before turning his attention over to the green beans that were boiling.

"And my note?"

"What?" Mulder turned around, giving her a hard gaze. "There wasn't a note from you. Just stuff from the kids, and the seeds."

"Seriously?" Scully asked, her anxiety apparent.

"I'm not joking, Scully. There was no note from you," he said. "The box was still sealed when I got it. What did it say?"

"Nothing important," she shrugged, downplaying whatever sense of fear she may have been conveying. "Just saying hi, I love you, that sort of thing."

Mulder eyed her with a slow nod, not wanting to press the issue further, at least not with the toddlers present. He made a mental note to double-check with Addison that the package had arrived unopened.

"The Gunmen called this afternoon," Scully said, changing the subject. "They sent me a still photo of the person who dropped off the letter from your—from Sandra."

"Finally," Mulder impatiently whined. "Who was it?"

"The same man who approached me at the bookstore a couple of weeks ago," Scully explained as she flipped the chicken.

"Thomas Maxwell?

"We don't know that for sure, but that's our best guess," she continued. "He had a cane, and a fedora that obscured his face. We can talk to them about it tomorrow.

"Tomorrow?" asked Mulder.

"Will's ENT appointment is in the morning. You said you wanted to go," Scully reminded him. "The Gunmen offered to spend the morning here with Nathan, and they'll also fix the security system damage from the storm."

"Didn't we have this same conversation last night?" Mulder asked. "It's like deja vu all over again."

"There's no door to the kitchen, so I couldn't knock," Kyle sarcastically announced as he entered the kitchen, heading straight to the refrigerator, pulling out some orange juice.

Mulder grimaced and bit his lip, doing his best to ignore his son's comment. He knew that it would be a long time before Kyle would be letting this one go, and he didn't want to add fire to the flames.  
XXXXX  
The next morning, Nathan was perfectly content playing trains with Langley, barely giving his parents a wave goodbye. Scully had left detailed instructions on how handle any Nathan-related crisis, including hiding his pants, which the two Gunmen took in stride.

""Daddy has no pants," Nathan announced proudly as he handed one of his trains to Langley.

"You don't want to know the details," Kyle had rolled his eyes as he stuffed his lunch in his schoolbag.

"I'm sure we'll find out later," Byers commented politely before trailing off, noticing the weak looks that father and son were changing. "Or not."

When they got to National Children's Medical Center, Mulder insisted, over Scully' s half-hearted protests, on carrying Will to the specialist's office. Scully tried to remember how lucky they were that he was only there for a consultation for tubes in his ears, and she hoped that the families they passed in the hall would be just as fortunate. She felt Mulder squeeze her hand as they passed by a corridor that housed the pediatric oncology ward. "He's going to be fine," Mulder said softly.

"I know," Scully told him.

Mulder occupied Will while Scully filled out the stack of forms the practice assistant had handed her; she was thankful that the medical records she and Mulder had been sent back in June were so comprehensive. She was almost finished when she was interrupted by the aide. "Dr. Scully? It seems as though there was a mix-up," she said.

"How so?" Scully asked, alarmed. "Did the pediatrician's office not send the office notes from last week's appointment?"

"We have Will's notes—they are all in order," began the aide. "But I just opened his file, and found this file."

Scully accepted the blue folder, quickly flipping through its contents. "Mulder," she whispered, her fingers trembling. "These are my medical records."  
XXXXX  
Scully managed to push all thoughts regarding the blue folder away as they met with Will's ENT specialist, who agreed with his pediatrician's assessment that he needed tubes in his ears. They were even able to schedule an appointment for the procedure, which would coincide with the beginning of the trial.

"I think the timing is a good thing," offered Mulder after they settled into the car.

"Me too," Scully agreed, without adding anything else to the conversation. She felt nervous as they drove through the DC traffic; although it was long past rush hour, they still hit congestion at Dupont Circle. Once headquarters was in sight, Scully felt strange driving past the garage entrance, and instead dropping Mulder off by the main entrance.

"Let me know what they say," Mulder told her, giving her a quick kiss before exiting the SUV.

She nodded, relieved that Mulder hadn't suggested that she wait to look at the records until after he got home that evening. Depending on the state of the house upon her return, she might not even have the opportunity to look at them before dinner.  
XXXXX  
When he arrived home that evening, Mulder was surprised to see Langley and Kyle playing video games in the living room, where Nathan and Will were playing. The two younger boys immediately clambered over one other to get to their father. "Where's Scully?" he asked.

Neither Langley nor Kyle looked away from the television set. "Office," mumbled Langley as he began to punch the buttons on his controller more firmly.

Mulder rolled his eyes, and made his way down the hall, where Scully was sitting on the floor, papers strewn around her. "What's going on?" he asked, a little alarmed.

"Mulder," Scully stammered. "I'm still trying to get through everything, but when I had the infection, when I had the second trip to the hospital, after Thanksgiving..."

"What?"

"It was the same as with Samantha," she continued. "It was on purpose, Mulder. We were both given those infections. They experimented on us."


	32. Chapter Thirty One

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! I hope you like this chapter.**

Mulder knew that there was nothing he could say to Scully that would ease her anxiety. Although it was hard enough for him to watch Will's eyes begin to droop as the anesthetic began to take effect, it was watching Scully's face when the surgical nurse unceremoniously pried his partner's hand off their child that set him off. "Give us a minute," he gruffly instructed before running his hands along Will's back, giving his son one last squeeze.

"We'll see him in a half-hour, Scully," he whispered in her ear. "We'll be with him when he wakes up. He won't get scared."

She nodded blankly, pressing a kiss onto the boy's forehead. "Make sure his dog stays with him," she said to a nurse, her voice slightly cracking, as Mulder pressed his hand onto the small of her back, leading her out of the room.

Mulder let out a deep breath as the cool air in the hospital corridor washed over him. Scully folded her arms in front of her, staring at the floor, clenching her jaw. He had never seen his normally boisterous nineteen-month-old son look so fragile as he lay on the small hospital bed, being prepped for his ear tubes surgery, which his specialist had rather unhelpfully referred to as a 'procedure requiring anesthetic,' a phrase that prompted much eye rolling from Scully.

They sat on the bench in the hallway in silence, hands entwined, watching the wall clock slowly tick away. Scully's posture tensed as soon as it hit the twenty-five minute mark. It was a routine procedure, Mulder kept repeating to himself. One that Scully herself had observed multiple times during her residency. However, he knew that it wasn't so much the physical complications with which she was worried; instead, she was being haunted by the emotional ghosts of hospital visits past: Emily. Her abduction. Her cancer treatments. The experimentations that she barely remembered from a few years earlier, and the ones she just learned about from her childhood. Their extended hospital stay after their so-called nice trip to the forest. The numerous other times they had wound up in some hospital in the middle-of-nowhere.

"All I can think about," Scully murmured. "Is how any parent would ever _choose_ to see their child like this when they didn't have to."

"I don't know," he honestly answered, pulling her closer to him. "And it doesn't really matter right now."

She leaned into Mulder even further, closing her eyes. Neither of them had been getting much sleep over the past few weeks, and Mulder hoped that she would be able to rest easy that night, with Will's surgery behind them. She would need the break; in the morning, they would be hitting the ground running. Their long weekend would be a busy one, between Kyle's schedule, his birthday, and Charlie's arrival for his appearance as a witness in the older Scully brother's trial.

Mulder sat back, breathing in the faint scent of her shampoo, his lips brushing the top of her head. Scully had refused to talk about anything related to the case against Bill, focusing her energy—and her anxiety—on everything else: Will's surgery, pre-school enrollment for Nathan, training the new puppy, Kyle's adjustment to their new family life, examining the medical records they had found in September. Their own time together had been limited over the past few weeks due to his erratic travel schedule. Although he had been owed time for working the past couple of weekends, he had found it difficult to justify taking the day off from work, having left his partner a backlog of paperwork from their latest case. Addison hadn't complained, or had even asked for an explanation, which relieved Mulder, who was overly sensitive to the fact that the other man was going through a painful divorce, and had limited visitation with his daughters.

But this long weekend was going to set things right. Mulder wouldn't be on Bureau time until Tuesday; he knew that Scully and the kids were planning some sort of birthday celebration on Sunday, but other than that, he was going to enjoy spending a lazy few days at home. Even though they would have errands to run, and a group of Kyle's friends to entertain the next afternoon, it would be quiet. He could take the boys and the dog out to the park and maybe even a trip to a museum; ideally they would be doing something which would guarantee an early bedtime. He was also counting on his brother-in-law to hold down the fort one night, so he and Scully could go out to dinner.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden appearance of the surgical nurse, who shared that everything went smoothly, and they could now sit with Will, who should be waking up shortly. Still, it wasn't until Will woke up smiling fifteen minutes later that they truly began to relax. "You were brave, bullfrog," Scully softly said to Will as they waited for his discharge papers.

"Cookie?"

Mulder laughed. "I think that can be arranged, slugger," he said, exchanging a bright smile with Scully.

Will held that promise to his father, practically jumping out of his arms once they got into the kitchen, pointing to the cabinet which held the Oreos. "I guess he's feeling better already," pronounced Scully, as she stashed the diaper bag in the laundry room. While normally she would give Mulder a particularly special look that was reserved for junk food served before lunch, she didn't bat an eye when she saw father and son partaking in cookies. Within seconds, Will's face was covered with creme, and an impressive chunk of crumbs fell onto the collar of Mulder's sweater. Both of them gave her identical surprised stares when they realized that she was witnessing their snack.

"Me too!"

Nathan barreled into the kitchen, immediately sensing that something fun with Daddy was happening without him, Bandit the puppy on his heels, followed closely by the babysitter. Mulder ruffled Nathan's hair, handing him a cookie, while Scully tried to distract Bandit with a toy. At least, that was what she hoped it was; the boys and Bandit were in the habit sharing most things, making it difficult to discern what belonged to who.

"How's the patient?" Elisabeth asked, waving at Will, who was lying his head on his father's shoulder, and in the process, smooshing bits of Oreo everywhere.

"It was definitely more traumatic for the parents," Mulder responded, looking down at his youngest son. "But this little guy will be needing a long n-a-p pretty soon."

Not only did both boys need afternoon naps, but their mother did as well. After putting Will down in his crib, Mulder found her sleeping on Nathan's bed, a picture book next to her. "Shh!" Nathan theatrically whispered as Mulder entered the room.

Somehow, he managed to pick Scully up without waking her, carefully transferring her to their own bed, pulling a comforter over her. After settling Nathan down, Mulder returned to their bedroom, kneeling next to her, just watching her sleep. He knew that she had not just hit a wall physically, but emotionally as well. While he had wanted them to catch-up during the boys' afternoon lie-downs, he knew that she needed the sleep.

XXXX

Scully didn't usually nap for long, but once the two hour mark approached, Mulder knew that he had to get her up before she destroyed any chance of having a decent night's sleep later. He softly rubbed her shoulders until she jerked awake, a panicked look spreading across her face as she realized what had happened. "Did I fall asleep? How long?"

"Shh," Mulder soothed her. "It's almost three thirty. You've been down for a couple of hours now."

"I need to get up," she sighed, rubbing her eyes. "How's Will?"

"He's great," Mulder promised. "No fever, he's playing in his room. He's okay, Scully."

She nodded. "It was harder than I thought it would be," she confided, pulling herself out of bed. "It wasn't until I was in the hospital, that it hit me. I think it was the smell of the disinfectant in the room. I was back in my residency, and I just started thinking about all of the things I've seen go wrong."

"It feels strange when things work out the way they are supposed to," Mulder agreed, pulling her into a hug. "But he's okay, Scully. All three of them, you and me. We're all okay. We can breathe now."

Scully nodded. "I'm so thankful," she said. "And I'm sorry for sleeping through the afternoon. I was looking forward to us making the most of nap time."

Mulder chuckled. "So that's what we're calling it?" he joked. "I'm sure we'll find a way to make up for it."

XXXXX

When Bandit first came home, Scully was nervous about how he would interact with the toddlers, the boys tending to be a bit rambunctious. When Kyle was home, Bandit was by his side at all times; but when Kyle was out of the house, Bandit turned his attention to the younger brothers. While he was an excitable puppy, he was also gentle, and never nipped or snapped, and when he sensed someone was drowsy, the husky would curl up next to him as he slept.

Bandit was only skittish when the three boys were in the same room, not exactly sure where he should be focusing his attention. While he sat on Kyle's lap when the eleven-year-old played video games, or read, he sometimes perked up upon seeing the younger boys toddle around and point to him, calling his name. If Kyle told Bandit to stay, he would settle on Kyle's stomach, but sometimes, if those magic words weren't spoken, the puppy would take a little leap onto the floor and wag his tail, making his way to his other playmates. Scully could tell that Kyle was never thrilled about those occasions, but he never voiced his displeasure.

"That was Charlie. He just landed, and is wrapping some stuff up with Preston," Scully said as she walked into the living room after dinner, the phone still in hand. "He'll be here later than expected."

Mulder nodded, mulling over how that would affect his plans with Scully for the evening.

"Do you mind if I run out? I have an errand that needs to get done," continued Scully vaguely. "And I only have tonight."

Mulder cocked his head, lowering his eyes shut for a second, chewing his lower lip. "Can I ask—"

"No," Scully cut him off, giving him a side-eye glance herself, suppressing a smile. "It would be in your best interest if—"

"Go," he immediately replied, waving her off. "Take as much time as you need. Please."

Scully chuckled as she left the house, walking towards her destination. While living in the city didn't give them much space, she loved not having to rely on her car for everything, especially when she just needed to clear her head. During the day, it was easy enough to walk to the park, or pop the kids in the stroller to cover longer distances. At night, especially when there was a cool breeze, being able to spend a few minutes outside in order to run to the market, or pick up dry cleaning, was a luxury onto itself.

The previous week, she had come to the conclusion that she was having trouble adjusting to a relationship with Mulder that didn't involve them being together for 85% of the day. She missed him terribly, whether he was a few miles away at HQ or out-of-town on a case. She kept the loneliness at bay by filling her hours with projects: activities with the kids, research on the medical files they had found the previous month, pre-school open houses, and making herself available for homework questions and conversation to a stepson who was still figuring out her role in his life.

But still, she missed working with Mulder during the day. She would take anything—a case file or a home improvement project or even just picking out books for the boys. So she was using his birthday as an opportunity to introduce something they had never done before, a small way to bridge their past and present: a haunted Georgetown walking tour.

She was excited, and was almost certain that he would love it. It didn't matter how campy the tour guide would be, or whether the retellings of the mysteries would even be accurate. It would perfectly blend together the things in their life that up until now, had remained pretty separate.

Scully had learned about the tour from a bulletin board announcement at the library. It was a mom-and-pop operation, and ran only on weekends. Tickets were limited, and were only available on a weekend-by weekend basis. So she had to queue up in front of the post office, and hope that two Sunday night tickets would still be available. She was reluctant to push it off, having Charlie lined up to watch the kids, and Mulder guaranteed to not be called away on a case.

Luck was on her side, and within ten minutes, she slipped the tickets in her pocket and headed back home. She had a small box ready in which to wrap, and a long note to include as his card. She was still a little upset that he had never received the letter she had written to him when he was out in San Francisco, and had spent the better part of her free time during the last few weeks figuring out what exactly she wanted to say, and how she should say it.

Mulder's other gifts were wrapped and ready; a framed photo of the kids, a tacky tie that Nathan had picked out (having definitely inherited his father's sense of style), and sneakers and an extra cell phone charger to replace those items he had lost when his suitcase was damaged on his last flight.

"No bag?" Mulder asked suspiciously when she returned home in time to help settle the boys into bed.

"I don't know Mulder, maybe there is," she bantered while pulling the a load of laundry from the dryer.

"I'm going to have to conduct a thorough investigation," Mulder told her as he changed, peeling off the t-shirt and sweater that had been soaked during bath time, dumping it in the washing machine.

"I'm not going to stop you," Scully said, standing on her tip toes to give him a kiss. Mulder immediately trapped her against the machines, and as soon as their exchange became more heated, the doorbell rang.

"Goddamn it, Charlie," groaned Scully. "I'll get it. You start the spin cycle."

XXXX

Based on the look his sister gave him upon opening the door, Charlie knew that he had interrupted something, but for once he held his tongue, ceding the opportunity to tease her in favor of a hug. "Everything okay?" Scully asked, concerned. Charlie only went the sentimental route when things were serious.

"It's going to be a long few days," responded Charlie after a few minutes. "Did you know that I was on CNN? I'm not supposed to watch court coverage, so I didn't know, and then three people come up to me at the airport and just flat out ask me about the case. Apparently they've been running that footage they taped when I was down here to meet with Preston last week."

"I haven't been watching anything either," Scully admitted. "How did you handle it?"

"I asked them if they wanted my autograph at a discount rate," Charlie explained, making a beeline to the liquor cabinet. He threw back a shot of whiskey. "Good thing Noah has the chicken pox. If Karen were here, she would have started a scene. "

"How's he doing?" Scully asked, trying to get off the subject of the trial.

"He's wearing mittens with snowmen on them. Karen taped them so he can't get them off. It's practically a torture device."

"At least he won't get any scratches infected," pointed out Scully.

"He'll have nightmares about this," predicted Charlie as he flopped on the couch opposite his sister. "Sorry for interrupting you, by the way."

Scully immediately turned red, making her brother howl with laughter. "I just guessed," he managed to say between chortles. "You're still a newlywed. Or are you single? I can never figure out what the upshot ended up being?"

"You are such an asshat," Scully muttered as she tried to stare her brother down, hoping that Mulder would make an appearance sooner rather than later.

XXXXXX

"Nathan, do not feed the puppy," Scully warned her son for the fourth time that morning. She hated how she sounded, but constant repetition in a particular tone of voice was the only way to get through to the two-year-old sometimes.

"I'm not," Nathan stubbornly whined. His innocent look flat-out gave away his guilt.

"Crate," Scully told Bandit, pointing him to the wire cage where he spent his time when no-one was home.

"No!" Nathan squealed as Bandit disappeared from his view.

"Timeout," Scully told Nathan firmly, bending down so her face was level with his. "Do you have a case of the naughties today?"

"Daddy!"

Nathan lurched in the direction of his father as far as his booster seat would let him.

"Did I hear that Nathan has the naughties?" Mulder asked, picking his son up in order to seat him on the bottom step of the staircase. "Since it's breakfast time, I'm going to ask if you were trying to feed the puppy again."

"I'm sorry!" Nathan cried.

Mulder sighed as he settled down on the floor, sitting face-to-face to an unhappy Nathan. He knew from past experience that if he didn't watch him like a hawk, the boy would easily find a place to hide out until he thought the coast was clear. He accepted a cup of coffee from Scully, grateful to have some caffeine. Charlie had him up late the night before, and then Will woke up on the early side, prompting him to take a five mile run. He felt winded, not appreciating the extra reminder that he was turning another year older.

"Nathan, you cannot feed the puppy," Mulder instructed the boy. "He needs special puppy food, and he might get sick. And you always have to do what Mommy tells you to do."

"Okay," Nathan automatically said as he realized that he was no longer in timeout.

"Say sorry to Mommy," called out Mulder as he followed Nathan back in the kitchen.

Ten minutes later, the cycle repeated itself as Kyle bounded into the kitchen in search of his dog. "He's in the crate," Mulder pointed in the general vicinity of the designated dog area as he tried to read through the front section of the Washington Post, simultaneously dropping Cheerio's on Will's highchair tray and Nathan's placemat.

"Why?" Kyle asked, obviously annoyed. Bandit always cried when he was in the crate.

"It was a bit chaotic in here," answered Mulder, continuing to look through the paper.

Kyle picked up the husky and carried him to the table, sitting him on his lap as he speared a pancake with his fork. "Is Uncle Charlie up?"

Mulder snorted in response as Kyle stroked Bandit's fur, sneaking him pancake pieces.

"Can you please not do that?" Scully sighed as she re-entered the kitchen, pouring herself more coffee.

"He's my dog," Kyle whined.

"Kyle," Mulder was losing his patience. "You do it, your brothers see it, they do it. We did the whole timeout thing again this morning, and so just knock it off."

"It's your fault they don't know how to behave," Kyle shot back, a slight edginess to his voice.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that," Mulder icily responded, sipping his coffee. "And I reserve the right to change my mind on that decision."

Kyle rolled his eyes. He knew he should have kept his mouth shut. He shoved the rest of his pancake into his mouth and trooped out of the kitchen, Bandit at his heels. His group for his history project was coming over after lunch, and although he didn't think his dad would cancel it, since it was school-related, he did want Colin and Dave to stay afterward and play video games. There was also a good chance that his father would forget the entire exchange; he was pretty grumpy, so maybe he hadn't really woken up yet.

Mulder put down the paper once he heard Kyle stomp up the stairs, exchanging a worried look with Scully. "He gets tense before his appointments, we know that," she offered as she sat down at the table. "Talk to him when you're in the car."

He nodded, draining the last of his coffee. Kyle had been seeing his new psychologist for almost a month; while the eleven-year-old hadn't complained, and his therapist had assured Mulder that they were making progress, they had noticed that Kyle was on edge prior to his appointments. It was harder to gauge this when his appointments during the week, when they only had a short car ride together after school, but on Saturdays, when he was had nothing to do around the house until it was time to leave, he had been noticeably crabby.

"Do you want me to take Will?" Mulder asked. He and Scully both tried to spend one-on-one time with each of the kids, and he knew that she had missed out on playtime with Nathan the day before due to her marathon nap.

"Are you trying to get out of an awkward conversation?" Scully asked.

"Maybe," admitted Mulder as he leaned against the countertop. "But the two aren't mutually exclusive. This way, Will can just sit with me in the waiting room. Now you could take Nathan to the park."

Scully mulled over the offer. They were supposed to be taking it easy with Will for a couple of days, and it would be hard enough doing that with both of them alone. "As long as you promise to talk to him," she decided.

"Done," agreed Mulder.

XXXXX

Scully was surprised when her brother offered to accompany her and Nathan to the park. "I know you don't really like talking about this," Charlie sighed. "But I need to discuss this with you."

Scully stoically nodded, looking ahead to Nathan, who was getting ready to go down the slide, relieved that her sunglasses were hiding her eyes. "I know it's not easy for you either," she reassured her brother.

"I think you would feel better about things if you went through those boxes from Bill's lawyers. Preston told me yesterday that you hadn't asked for them yet," Charlie suggested, waiting for his sister to blow up at him. "And don't blame him, I essentially tricked him into saying it."

Instead, he was met with silence. That worried him even more.

"I can't do it," she finally answered.

"You can do it, Dana. You are just choosing not to."

"Charlie, the bottom line is that I was purposely experimented on, as a thirteen-year-old, for Bill's get-out-of-jail-free card. And it wasn't like he had done something by accident. The details of that murder are brutal," Scully spat, keeping her voice low, thankful that her brother had at least brought up the subject when Nathan was out of an earshot.

"So you do know some details," Charlie shot back, sipping his coffee. "The last time I asked, you knew nothing."

The stood there in silence, Scully opening up her arms as Nathan ran towards her. "Need some juice, monkey?" she asked him.

He nodded vigorously, accepting a box of juice, practically throwing it at her when he was done, heading back to the jungle gym. Once the two-year-old was back on the jungle gym, she said quietly, "I just needed to know whether the crime could have been accidental, or have some sort of extenuating circumstance that could explain the death. Now I know that certainly wasn't the case."

"Did you ever think," Charlie began. "That maybe Dad chose the greater good?"

Scully's heart sank, and a burning flare of anxiety crept up her stomach.

"It's the only rationalization I could come to," continued Charlie. "Think about it. Maybe he did do the right thing."

"That doesn't change the fact that Bill brutally murdered someone."

"This isn't about Bill, and what he did. We both know that. I'm talking about Dad, as a father. Dad, as apparently some top secret Joint Chiefs of Staff advisor. Dana, have you ever thought about what could have been so important, that putting you in a hospital for a couple of days was a no-brainer?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Charlie knew that he had stepped in it. His sister was visibly shaking, and her voice cracked as she readjusted the sunglasses on her face. "So it was just a coincidence that all of these things happened at the same time?" she asked, her voice cracking. "And I'm just being completely selfish. Not willing to take one for the team, in order to prevent some sort of horrible tragedy?"

"You know that's not what I meant," scoffed Charlie, even though it really was, as his sister walked towards the jungle gym.

XXXX

"So who are these kids coming over?" Charlie asked his nephew as they played video games. He had noticed that the eleven-year-old was more quiet than normal, having ignored everyone's attempts to speak with him that morning, turning his attention to Bandit instead. Charlie had invited himself to play as well, and he took it as a positive sign that Kyle had agreed, or at least hadn't stomped out of the room.

"History project people," Kyle answered.

"Who?"

"Colin and Dave. I play basketball with them. And some others."

"Girls?" Charlie asked, looking over at Kyle, who was growing red.

"Yeah," he managed to grumble.

"Which is the one you like?" Charlie asked.

"Chl—""

Kyle stopped himself too late.

"Do tell, young nephew," Charlie said kindly. "I promise I'm not going to say anything to anybody."

"Even my dad?"

"Especially your dad," promised Charlie. "Cross my heart, hope to die."

"Her name is Chloe," Kyle said quietly, even though he knew his father wouldn't be able to overhear him. He and Dana were busy playing a game with his brothers in the kitchen, and had been incredibly noisy in doing so.

"Is she cute?"

Kyle nodded. "Everyone likes her though."

"Do you think she likes you?"

Another nod. "Her friend accidentally told me."

"Are you sure it was by accident?" Charlie asked. "She might have told her friend to say something on purpose."

"I dunno. Maybe," Kyle shrugged. "There is a school dance coming up."

"Want me to scope out the situation? Just with my innate powers of observation. I promise not to ask any questions," offered Charlie. "And I definitely won't embarrass you."

"Could you? Really?"

Charlie was taken aback by Kyle's receptiveness to his offer. "Of course. I will observe and report back a plan of action."

XXXX

"That's them," Kyle whispered to Charlie as they peeked outside through the curtains from their perch on the window seat. Charlie observed two girls-one with dark hair, and the other a blonde-walk up the front stairs, along with a parent-type figure.

"You get the door," Charlie hissed back as the bell rang.

"What do I say?"

"Hi."

Charlie wasn't sure why Kyle needed any help, as his nephew proved to be smooth, answering the door and smiling (but not too much) hello. He, however, proved to be a different story. "Wow," the woman, who had been introduced as Natalie's mother, stumbled as she got a good look at Charlie. "I'm sorry, I'm a little confused."

"CNN?" Charlie asked. The look on her face was reminiscent of many of the stares he had been given at the airport the previous day.

"News junkie," she apologetically admitted. "Occupational hazard. I'm in PR."

"Ugh, yeah. I'm the uncle, I mean, Kyle's never even met my brother, damn, this is awkward," Charlie stammered as he motioned for her to enter the house. "You can come on in if you want. I guess you might have some questions. I'm not quite sure how my sister and her husband are handling this."

"I'm not, I mean, is it bad that I'm kind of worrying right now?" the woman asked. "Not safety wise, just kind of creeped out wise."

"My brother-in-law is kind of overprotective, so this place has more security than most banks," Charlie answered, becoming more and more nervous. "But none of us have had much contact with our brother. Kyle's never met him. He's my sister's stepson. But she's not the evil stepmother, so to speak. We went the whole evil step-uncle route instead."

The look on the blonde's face confirmed that he was making a bad situation worse, causing Charlie to inwardly groan, calling out for Mulder and Dana.

XXXX

"Maybe you shouldn't answer the door anymore," Scully hissed to her brother as she heated up the kettle for some tea. She and Mulder were trying to give the short version of their complicated family life to Natalie's mother Katie, and the last thing she wanted was for Kyle and his friends to figure out what was happening.

"I'm sorry," Charlie whispered. "I'll just stay here in the kitchen. I promise, no doors, no windows."

Meanwhile, Scully brought out some mugs to the living room, where Mulder and Katie were seated. To her relief, Katie was very understanding about the situation, and made it clear that she didn't think there was any threat to her daughter's safety. "A nice change-of-pace from having to go through background checks before dropping Nattie off at some ambassador's residence. That was a pain. Hands down, the worst science project ever," she smiled. "I'm pretty sure that kid ended up moving back to wherever she came from before the project was even due."

Charlie wandered back into the living room once Katie left. "How bad was it?" he asked.

"Don't worry about it," Mulder told him. "I know it wouldn't have gone over well with some of other parents I've met at this school, but she was fine with it."

"I feel bad dragging everyone into this."

"You didn't drag us anywhere, Charlie," Scully said, extending an olive branch to her younger brother.

XXXX

Kyle tried to concentrate on the project, but it was hard. Colin was dictating notes to Natalie, and Dave was putting the finishing touches of the diorama that had been building. That left him and Chloe with the task of sorting the references for their term paper. He was doing all of the things that Charlie had suggested earlier: making her laugh, complimenting the work she had already done, and he was going to suggest that they get a library pass for their free period on Tuesday, when Nathan ran into the room.

Kyle inwardly groaned. Dana had promised that she would keep them out of the way while his friends were over.

"Oh my gosh he's so cute!" Chloe squealed, her dark-haired ponytail bouncing. "Is this your little brother? He's adorable. What's his name?"

"Nathan," Kyle said, a little confused. "Nathan, do you want to say hi to Chloe?"

"Hi," Nathan said, grinning, before running towards Bandit, who had been sleeping on Kyle's lap before jumping off at the approach of the little boy.

"That's so cute," Chloe said, turning to Natalie, as Bandit began licking Nathan, who tumbled down giggling. "I bet Bandit thinks he's a puppy too."

"I'm sorry, guys," Scully said, shooting Kyle an apologetic look, as she entered the kitchen. "Nathan, let's go back to playing trains. These guys are doing homework."

"No," Nathan said, rolling around the floor.

"He can stay," Chloe cried out. "I'm getting a little brother soon and I need the practice."

"You know, I do have _two_ little brothers," Kyle interrupted her, beaming when Chloe flashed him a big smile.

XXXXX

"Did you get any work done on your project?" Scully asked Kyle after the last of his guests left. He was setting the table for dinner, while Scully was pulling the chicken that Charlie had made out of the oven.

"Yeah, we finished the diorama, and Natalie's going to finish the paper," responded Kyle. "So I'm all done."

"I hope you guys didn't stick her with all the work," remarked Scully, thinking of the scattered piles of paper that had littered the kitchen table that afternoon. From the conversation she had overheard, there seemed to be a lot of work that needed to be done

"No, she wanted to do it," Kyle shrugged. "She wants Colin to ask her to the school dance anyway."

"What?" Scully asked, surprised. "Are you saying that she agreed to do that because she thinks that Colin will go to the school dance with her if she does?"

"Plus she's smart," added Kyle, picking up Bandit. "She probably would have done it even if someone asked her besides Colin."

"Please say that Colin is going to ask her," pleaded Scully, turning off the oven.

"Colin is going to ask her," Kyle said flatly, regretting that he hadn't just told Dana that they were finished, and left it at that.

"For real?"

"No, he's going to ask Stephie Edelman at lunch on Tuesday." He knew this was not going to go over well with his stepmother.

"And when is the paper due?"

"Tuesday morning."

"That's absolutely terrible," Scully scoffed, anger apparent in her voice. "That's just mean."

"What's mean?" Mulder asked, bringing Nathan over to the sink to wash his hands. The addition of a family dog meant that the toddlers were constantly covered in dog hair. He hadn't been able to make out their conversation from the other room, but he could tell that Scully was genuinely upset just by looking at her. "Kyle? What's going on?"

The eleven-year-old sighed. "Natalie's finishing the paper part of the project," he said.

"You all worked on it, right? Didn't you divide it into sections?" Mulder asked, confused.

"Exactly," Kyle said.

"No, tell your Dad the entire story," Scully asked, her tone still sharp.

Kyle rolled his eyes once Scully's back was turned. "Colin asked her to do the final edits. And Natalie likes Colin."

Scully turned around to glare at Kyle as soon as he stopped speaking.

"Okay, okay," continued Kyle. "She might think that if she does it, Colin will ask her to the school dance, but he's going to ask Stephie Edelman on Tuesday after we turn in the project."

Mulder winced. "That's not nice," he agreed. "It's pretty mean, actually. Is there any chance you can make Colin reconsider?"

"No, because Stephie already knows that Colin's going to ask her," Kyle responded."Colin covered all his bases."

"Sixth grade politics are definitely more complicated than I remembered," Mulder said. "So who are you going to the school dance with?"

"Chloe," Kyle responded immediately, afraid that his father was going to suggest that he go with Natalie. "I already asked her."

"Good job," Charlie said as he entered the room, with Will on his shoulders. "I knew she liked you."

"You never mentioned liking Chloe," Mulder said, a little taken aback that Kyle had confided in Charlie instead of him.

"Dana, why do you look like that? Did Chloe piss in your coffee or something?"

"No, I think that Chloe is absolutely lovely and polite, and I am very happy that Kyle's going to the dance with her," Scully said, strapping Will into his high chair while Mulder settled Nathan into his bucket seat. "My displeasure is with Colin. I just think what he is doing is terrible."

Kyle repeated the story to Charlie, who immediately started to laugh. "Yeah, she was kind of ugly anyway," he said as he rooted around the fridge for a beer. "Her mom was hot, though."

"Cut it out," Scully said to her brother.

"What? I'm just saying what everyone is thinking," Charlie defended himself. "Dana tends to get a little over-sensitive when it comes to middle school dances. And high school dances. And college—"

"Let's just change the subject," Mulder said, a little worried about the dynamic between brother and sister.

XXXX

Scully made herself scarce after dinner, busying herself with the boys' after-dinner routine, and then taking Mulder up on his suggestion that she enjoy a long soak in the tub, something which she hadn't done since their move back to DC. When she finally made into their bedroom, she was surprised to see that Mulder had started a fire. "This is nice," Scully said as she shrugged on her robe.

"I thought it was cold enough," Mulder said, motioning for her to walk towards him. "I was thinking of doing it this afternoon, but I wasn't so certain that Nathan and Will and Bandit would keep away from the screen. I'm thinking we might need to get a sturdier one that bolts into the mantle."

"This is nice, though," Scully said as she wrapped her arms around him.

"You look relaxed," Mulder nodded approvingly.

"A good night's sleep and a bath in the same twenty-four hour span does wonders," responded Scully with a smile. "I forgot what it felt like, really."

After a few moments of silence, she asked Mulder, "Do you think I overreacted? About Kyle's friends?"

"No," he said. "I think that adults forget that kids can be mean. I'll talk to him about it. I think that he knows what Colin did was wrong, but I think he's less clear on whether he should get involved, especially since he doesn't know these people very well I'll talk to him about before the weekend ends. I think that he might see the situation differently when he realizes that if Chloe finds out he knew about this, she might not agree with a stand aside and do nothing approach."

"Hmm," Scully intoned as she pressed up more closely against her partner. "I'm glad that my middle school years are over."

"Me too," agreed Mulder. While a part of him wanted to ask what could have provoked Charlie's comments from dinner, he knew that if Scully wanted to open up to him about it, she would do so directly.

"Even though it's an hour early, do you want to open up one of your birthday gifts?" Scully asked, tracing patterns on his torso. .

"I thought you would never ask," Mulder said as he played with the sash on her robe before giving her a hungry kiss that they managed not to break while stumbling onto their bed.

"I love you," Scully whispered to him as he nuzzled her neck, sucking on that one sensitive spot near her shoulder. "I love you so much."

"I know you do," he whispered, moving down her body. "I love you too."

XXXXX

Nathan had been eyeing the pile of presents on the counter all morning. He kept pointing to them and asking "Now?" every few moments.

"Maybe we should put him out of his misery," Mulder suggested as Scully slid the birthday cake in the oven.

"You know, Nathan, your birthday is next," Kyle reminded his younger brother as they settled into the living room.

"Me?"

"In two more weeks," Scully explained, hoping that Nathan wouldn't equate 'next' with 'tomorrow.'

Mulder sat with Will on his lap, and Nathan next to him, passing gifts to each of them to open. "You're good helpers," Mulder told them. "This is way too much work for me."

He oohed and ached over the tie, cell phone charger, sneakers, and framed photo, and listened patiently as Nathan explained the picture that he had drawn. Kyle beamed when his father praised the book he had gotten him, and joked with Charlie about the bottle of scotch that the younger man referred to as a 'replacement' rather than a gift.

He purposely saved Scully's gift for last. He had intended to open it when he woke up that morning, having noticed she had left it on his nightstand, and then after being distracted by Will, he had ended up carrying it with him downstairs, leaving it with the other presents that were on the kitchen counter. "Is this okay…" Mulder trailed, not wanting to assume that Scully would have already returned the small package to their bedroom if it was somehow not suitable for the others to see.

Scully eagerly nodded, clearly excited about the gift.

He was about to open the envelope when Nathan reached over and began to tear off the wrapping paper. "I guess you don't have to read the card first anymore, huh?" Mulder said as the two-year-old let out a frustrated cry upon he realizing that the box was taped open. He was worried that Will would be upset he didn't have anything to open, but the baby smiled when he was handed the box lid, content to chew on it. He kept waving it around, bopping his father on the head, prompting Mulder to set Will on the floor.

Mulder reached into the small box, setting the card down next to him. "What's that?" Nathan asked repeatedly.

"It is," Mulder announced dramatically as he read the tickets. "This is perfect."

"What is it?" Kyle echoed. Clearly his father was happy with the gift, and Dana's grin hadn't given anything away either.

"Haunted Georgetown walking tour," said Mulder. "Tonight?"

Scully nodded, about to speak, but momentarily distracted by Will, who was handing her Doggy and the chewed up box lid.

"Dad, that's so cool. I showed Dana the sign at the library," Kyle gushed. "Can I go with you?"

Mulder looked over at Scully, occupied with Will, who was babbling something and pointing to something behind her. "Sure, bud," Mulder said.

"This is going to be awesome," Kyle continued.

"What's so awesome?" Scully asked, Will now contentedly sitting on her lap, chewing on Doggy's ear, the slobbery box having been picked up by Bandit.

"Dad and I are going tonight!"

Scully hoped that the flicker of disappointment that cast through her wasn't apparent. She took the coward's way out, and bent down to inspect Will's dark hair, pretending to brush something off his head. "Kyle, are you sure you want to go?" Charlie asked his nephew.

"Yeah, why?" Kyle asked.

Scully shook her head, shooting her brother a fierce look.

"I just wanted to see if we could bet $10 that you'll get scared," recovered Charlie.

"Easy money," Kyle took the bait, knowing a good bet when he saw one.

Thankfully for Scully, Mulder missed the exchange, his attention now focused on Nathan, who was busy inspecting the tie that Mulder was now putting on him. "Let's get you some more juice, Willster," she said to her son, picking him up to go into the kitchen.

"Dana," Charlie whined as she opened the fridge. "I can—why don't you want to say anything?"

"It's fine," Scully told him as she rummaged for the orange juice. "I—it didn't work out, but it's fine."

"Come on, you were excited about this."

"I was," Scully said truthfully. In fact, she was practically heartbroken, but that had more to do with everything that hadn't gone well recently-the traveling, dealing with parenting issues, anxiety over Will's surgery, worrying about the trial-and nothing about them as a family. And that's what Mulder was doing with his gift-spending time with his son. "But we'll do something else instead. Don't worry about it."

For the rest of the day, Nathan kept talking about his birthday (or 'birfday'), and cake, and balloons. Scully knew that it was just a small taste of what was to come for the next two and a half weeks. As she sat down to play with the kids, she thought about how easy it would have been for her to have given Mulder his gift when they had woken up that morning, instead of leaving it on his nightstand. Or for her to have brought the present back to their room when she saw it on the kitchen counter. Or for even having said 'this is for the two of us' when he began to open it. But she hadn't done any of that; how would he have even of known? Even thinking to when Kyle had said that he had shown her the advertisement; she didn't remember it happening that way, but things had been so chaotic over the past few weeks, she wouldn't have been surprised if he had in fact been the one to have shown her.

She wasn't sure whether Mulder had read the enclosed note, which would have referenced the tickets. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel badly about attending the event with Kyle, and although she had put a lot of herself into that letter, she would have thrown it away if she had the chance to spare Mulder any .

But she didn't. By the time Mulder left, she couldn't find it anywhere, and she was as sure as hell not going to ask him where he put it. There weren't a whole lot of places where it could even be, but a search of the kitchen, office, living room, and bedroom came up empty. Which must have meant he had it with him.

So now, she was putting the boys to bed, thinking about how awkward things would be when she next saw Mulder. She wasn't up for conversation, and, in any case, Charlie was busy on his laptop downstairs. She tried reading, but was having difficulty concentrating.

The next thing she knew, Mulder was kissing her neck, rolling her over onto her back. "Sleepy," she whispered, unsure of whether she was even awake. "You're back?"

"You're perfect," Mulder whispered. "I wish I had read the note first."

"You didn't know—it was just one of those things that happened," Scully soothed him. "I should have—"

"Ssshh," Mulder said. "Let me talk. It's still my birthday for another forty-five minutes. I was going to tell him no. I was very close to saying no, but then I was thinking about how I've been away, and that I needed to talk to him about things, so I said yes. And I wish I went with my gut instinct."

"You're a father, Mulder," reasoned Scully. "A wonderful one. And I would never want to put you in a position in which you felt like you had to choose between your kids, or me."

"Let me make it up to you," Mulder said. "Well, up to us, really. Next Saturday night. You and me and I will make all the plans."

"Of course," Scully grinned. "But I want you to know that I didn't mean for you to feel guilty."

"I know," said Mulder. "And that letter, Scully, that was the best gift of anything I've gotten today. I know that doesn't always come easy to you either."

"I meant every word," Scully whispered, bringing Mulder's face down for a kiss. "I really hope you had a great time."

"It was fantastic," Mulder said before resuming their kissing, just as the phone rang.

Mulder cursed at the interruption. "It might be your mother," Scully said. "She called when you were out, and said she would try back later."

Mulder nodded, reaching for the cordless phone. His mother had a tendency to call quite late, a holdover from his workaholic bachelor days when he was in the office at all hours. Surprisingly, Teena had softened over the past few months, and had done her best to display an interest in her grandchildren. Even more surprisingly, she had even sent Scully an old photo album after receiving a set of photos of the boys, wanting to show her daughter-in-law how much they looked like their father. It sent a shiver down his spine to think that Teena Mulder was their frontrunner for grandparent-of-they-year, but his mother had always constantly surprised him—just not usually in a good way.

"Mom?" Mulder asked into the phone, flopping down on his back.

"No one's called me that before, buddy," a familiar voice sauntered. "Happy birthday."

"Frohike? Is that you?"


	33. Chapter Thirty Two

"Frohike? Is that really you?"

Scully sat up next to Mulder, bewildered.

"Why wouldn't it be, birthday boy?" boomed Frohike. "When you take your dog out for a walk tonight, pick up a copy of today's _Times_. There's an article in the Travel section that I think you'll find interesting."

Mulder dropped the phone onto the bed as soon as he heard the dial tone. "Did you hear that?" he mumbled to Scully, who nodded.

"I have to go," he said as he stood up, running his hands through his hair.

"I'm coming too—"

"No," Mulder said. "If we don't follow instructions, there might be consequences. I'll bring my cell. Stay here with the kids, please."

Scully nodded, worried. "Be careful," she whispered, following him out into the hall.

Mulder pounded down the stairs, fueled by a sudden rush of adrenaline. He slipped into his locked office, and then opened the wall safe, where he pulled out a service weapon and ankle holster. He wasn't taking any chances.

He forced himself to walk slowly as he approached the living room, where Kyle and Charlie were talking, the TV blaring in the background. "I think I'm going to take Bandit out on a walk," he said, hoping he sounded casual.

"Do I have to go?" Kyle asked.

"No, I just need some air," responded Mulder.

"But you said when we got a dog, walking him would be my responsibility, so I should go with which ever adult is available," the eleven-year-old intoned. "And Charlie said he would go with me after the game ends."

"And I'm granting you a dispensation since it's my birthday," countered Mulder as he wandered into the front hallway to grab Bandit's leash.

As soon as the puppy heard the clicking of the metal clasp, he perked up, jumping from his perch on Kyle's lap onto the floor, wagging his tail. "Someone's excited," murmured Mulder as he attempted to leash the dog, who wouldn't stop wiggling.

"Remember the baggies," Kyle called out to his father. Mulder wasn't sure whether his son intended to sound so stern, or if he was trying to be a smart ass instead. Either way, Mulder was relieved that he hadn't insisted on accompanying him on the walk.

Leash in hand, Mulder headed towards the nearest newsstand, Bandit trotting to keep up with his fast pace. He knew that in a couple of months, Bandit would be the one pulling him along—in the few short weeks since he came home, the puppy had nearly doubled in size. That was a good thing, Mulder thought. The main reason that he had encouraged Kyle's interest in huskies was because of their potential as guard dogs. Despite his gentleness around Will and Nathan, Bandit had already displayed protective tendencies with the children.

As they crossed the street, Mulder cased the area. For a Sunday night of a holiday weekend, the neighborhood was quiet—the park was nearly empty, save for a couple of other dog owners. He bent down, pretending to pick up after the dog, and slipped the gun in his jacket pocket.

Mulder spotted a figure in front of the shuttered newsstand. As he walked closer, he saw a formidable man, clad in a trench coat and fedora, leaning on a cane. "Thomas Maxwell?"

"I already know my own name, Mr. Mulder," a gruff voice rasped. "Walk with me."

Mulder followed Maxwell into a narrow alleyway that snaked behind the kiosk. "Listen carefully," Maxwell said softly. "Your sister has limited contact with the outside world. She and her child are safe, but they are watched closely, and don't have unmonitored access to phones and computers. Be careful with your inquiries, or else they might be moved again, and this time, you won't know to where. You'll be sought out when appropriate."

Maxwell looked around, only continuing when he was satisfied that no one was lurking. "Tread carefully, Mr. Mulder. You are a good man, like your grandfather. Your father was flawed, but he had his moments."

"And my father-in-law?"

Maxwell gravely stared straight ahead. "The difference between them was love. One was blinded by love for his son, the other was blinded by love for his wife. You'll figure out which was which. Things could have been turned out quite differently. But they didn't. This is where we part, Mr. Mulder. Keep walking through here, while I go the opposite direction."

Mulder walked back home in a daze, unsure of what to think. He knew he had to relay Maxwell's message in full, tempering his instinct to protect Scully; he used to feel guilty for dragging her into this labyrinth of conspiracy, but at this point, it was her fight just as much as it was his. As soon as he was unleashed, Bandit bounded through the house, trying to find his boy. Mulder dawdled in the kitchen before peeking his head in the living room, where Kyle was curled up in a ball on the couch, his puppy in his arms. He grinned at the sight; after six months in his father's custody, the eleven-year-old was coming out of his shell. Since Bandit came into their home three weeks earlier, Kyle had been smiling non-stop, and had become much less moody. He was also making new friends at school, and seemed to be getting along with Dana and his brothers, even when Mulder was traveling.

Good things were finally happening to the Sculder family household, Mulder thought as he climbed the stairs. After quickly checking-in on Nathan and Will, he took a deep breath and entered the master bedroom, where he found Scully pacing.

"What did you find out?" she asked, both her voice and face betraying her anxiety.

"Samantha is safe," Mulder said as he sunk on the bed, reaching out for Scully, who stood between his legs, her hands on his shoulders, both of them trying their best to remain steady, despite their nerves. "But she is being watched closely. I'm supposed to be patient or else risk their safety."

"Do you believe him?"

"I do," Mulder answered, surprising himself as he spoke those words. "But it's because of Frohike's behavior more than this guy's cloak and dagger routine."

"Did he mention anything else?" Scully asked cautiously.

Mulder nodded; he knew that was code for 'what did you find out about my father?'

"He said that one of our fathers was blinded by love for his son, and the other was blinded by love for his wife, and we will figure out which is which in due time."

Scully swallowed, her hands beginning to shake from their perch on Mulder's shoulders. "Riddles," she whispered. "There are always riddles."

XXXXXXXX

"You know, this is the first time we've all gone out together since we came back to DC," Mulder said, zipping up Will's sweatshirt, pulling the hood up and tugging at the dog ears, making the one-year-old giggle. They were heading into the National Air and Space Museum, and although Mulder was clearly the most excited member of the family, his enthusiasm had been quite contagious, and all three kids had been bouncing off the walls since breakfast.

"It's my birthday," Nathan tugged at Scully's sweater before she could answer her partner.

She inwardly groaned. He had been making that pronouncement all morning, at the goading of his older brother, who had more than implied that _next_ meant _tomorrow._ Unfortunately for the eleven-year-old, their conversation had been overheard by the adults of the house, but not before the damage had been done. Scully could only hope that by the time they got back home, Nathan would have forgotten any thought of cake and presents awaiting him later that day.

"Not yet, monkey," Scully fruitlessly protested for the zillionth time that morning. "November 2. Remember when we looked on the calendar?"

"My birthday."

Nathan threw her a Mulder-patented-yes-this-is-incontrovertible-evidence-and-don't-try-to-convince-me-otherwise look; his eyes narrowed and his lower lip protruded, quivering as he stared up at his mother.

Both Mulder and Scully glanced over at Kyle, who was oblivious, busy looking at one of the planes suspended from the ceiling overhead. As Mulder traced his oldest son's line of sight, he too became lost in wonder, and excitedly pointed up, causing the two toddlers to gasp.

"What that?" Nathan asked, swinging Woofy around by his ear.

Scully breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that Nathan was now distracted from his birthday obsession, at least for the moment.

Two hours later, Scully knew that the boys were ganging up on her, but she didn't know exactly what they had planned. After a quick trip to the bathroom, she finally spotted them in a corner of the Apollo 11 exhibit hall, Mulder crouched down at toddler-level, all four of them in their own world. She lingered from her post at the entrance, smiling as she watched them all interact. Although she couldn't hear what Mulder was saying, she heard his voice in her mind, filling in the blanks with his endless knowledge about the planets, the stars, the possibility of life on other planets. In her heart of hearts, she wanted all three children to inherit their father's sense of hope, his faith in his beliefs.

Mulder turned around, catching her eye. She smiled and started walking towards her family, curious about what they were stage whispering. After some encouragement from his father, Nathan ran over to her, grinning slyly. "I'm a ret-ic-u-lan!" he yelled, jumping as he clearly pronounced each syllable, his voice getting louder every time he repeated his pronouncement.

She laughed, bending down to Nathan's eye level. "You are?" she asked, glancing over at Mulder, who was smiling ear-to-ear. "But you're still my monkey too, right?"

Nathan nodded vigorously before running back to his father, singing 'ret-i-cu-lan' along the way. Scully followed him, slipping her hand into Mulder's as they all gazed at the spaceship display. She leaned into him, keeping her grip tight. "It's never to early to believe," she said softly. "And I hope it never stops."

Scully was interrupted by a tap on her shoulder. "Dana Scully?"

She looked up at a vaguely familiar woman with chestnut curls and a rather loud voice. "I haven't seen you since residency," the other woman gushed. "How many kids do you have? Three?"

"Maureen, hi," Scully said with a restraint that was born out of confusion from seeing someone she barely knew a decade earlier. "Yes, we have three boys."

"Your mom's a smart lady," Maureen said, turning to Kyle. "She figured out more quickly than I did that working with patients who don't talk back is the best option for a doctor. We're just leaving—I have my two nieces over there, and we have to scamper out before anyone figures out that they were the ones who set off the alarm by the Spirit of St. Louis. It was good seeing you, Dana."

"Bye," Scully trailed off, shaking her head as she saw her old colleague hightail it out of the exhibit hall, unsure of whether she had been joking.

She felt the release of Mulder's hand as he picked up Nathan, and it wasn't until she saw Kyle wander off that she realized what had just transpired. She had not only told an acquaintance that she had three children, but no one had corrected the woman's assumption that Scully was Kyle's mother. There had been a handful of times when Scully had been asked how many children she had, and she had always answered three, although her heart said four. She wasn't ready, at least not yet, to explain away a dead daughter she barely knew to complete strangers.

"Did I upset him?" Scully asked Mulder as Kyle walked further away from them.

"No, why?" Mulder asked, confused, as he shifted Nathan in his arms. "You didn't say anything."

"She assumed I was his mother," Scully continued, finding a juice tumbler for Will, who was beginning to make his impatience about being trapped in the stroller known.

"It's happened before," Mulder shrugged.

"It has?" Scully asked, surprised.

"Remember? When we were at the petting zoo at the fair this summer?"

"Vaguely," murmured Scully, lost in thought.

"It didn't bother him then," reasoned Mulder, bending down to pick up Doggy before handing it back to Will. "If you think it's bothering him, you should ask him. If you do it directly, you'll be able to suss out an honest reaction from him. I know it's difficult, but you know how things have improved since we've stopped tip-toeing around him."

Scully nodded, knowing that Mulder was right.

XXXXXXXX

Although it quickly grew tiresome, Nathan repeating 'reticulan' in a sing-song voice was a much welcome change from his earlier insistence that it was his birthday. "This is so annoying," Kyle growled from his perch in the back of the car.

"You are the last person who should be complaining," Mulder grumbled. Scully doubted that Kyle could hear him, but the look that he shot his son through the rear-view mirror seemed to have chasten him the same.

Kyle rolled his eyes as he flopped down on his seat, stretching out as much as his seatbelt allowed. He usually loved going to museums with his father, trading trivia about the exhibits, people watching and wandering around together one-on-one. He thought back to the previous March, when Dana first visited them for a long weekend in New York. At first he was skeptical about her accompanying them to the Museum of Natural History, and she had surprised him with her own vast scientific knowledge.

But he drew the line at the addition of a stroller, diaper bag, and two little brothers. After lunch, both of them began to fade rather quickly. When Nathan had fallen asleep in the stroller with minimal disruption, Kyle thought that they would be in the clear to stay at the museum for a little bit longer. But Will was crankier than usual, and wouldn't sit still in the carriage, only quieting when his father held him. Even after his youngest brother finally fell asleep, Mulder had insisted on carrying him until they made it to the car, dashing Kyle's hopes of convincing him to have Dana bring the boys home herself, so they could spend some time together uninterrupted.

At least he had a puppy to come home to; Bandit jumped all over him as soon as they walked in the door. "Dad can we take Bandit out for a walk now?" Kyle asked hopefully.

"Shh," Mulder responded. Once again, Will was in his arms, his eyes fluttering open for a few seconds as Kyle spoke, only to quickly fall back asleep, burrowed into his father's chest.

"Just put him in his crib," Kyle mumbled, knowing that his plan was completely ruined when instead of following Dana upstairs, his father instead entered the living room, easing onto the sofa, lying down flat with Will splayed across his stomach and torso. Despite his recent growth spurt, Will just fit in that particular position. Mulder knew that he wouldn't be able to hold Will like this for much longer, and an afternoon home was the perfect excuse for a catnap on the couch with his youngest son.

"What's up number one nephew?" Charlie asked as Kyle wandered into his father's office, flopping onto the leather sofa.

The responding groan from the eleven-year-old signaled to Charlie that there was some sibling rivalry at play. "Let's get out of here," Charlie suggested.

After scrawling a note on the kitchen white erase board, stating that they were running away and would be back for dinner, they headed in the direction of the park, mainly because that was where Bandit led them. "What's on your mind, kiddo?" Charlie asked as he fiddled with his ever-present baseball cap. "You look kind of down in the dumps for a kid who scored a date to the big dance."

Kyle shrugged, looking down at the ground before staring back at his uncle. "If I ask you a question, will you not tell my Dad? Or Dana?"

"Sure," Charlie reflexively replied, immediately realizing that he might be playing with fire. He pushed all thoughts of being a responsible adult aside; his nephew needed an adult who wouldn't squelch on him. Charlie had known Kyle just as long as he had known Mulder, and that automatically put him in a category different from that of the other adults in his life; from Kyle's point of view, that meant that his uncle's loyalty didn't automatically lay with his father. Instead, Charlie was on his side.

Ever since their trip to the Vineyard, Charlie had begun to remember what it was like moving to a new place back when he was Kyle's age, and that in itself solidified his resolve to be his nephew's champion, someone who would listen to him without judgment, especially having not had a similar role model for himself growing up. He also knew that Mulder had acted in a similar capacity for Peter countless times already, and would continue to do so in the future.

"Promise?" Kyle asked, obviously worried that Charlie wasn't being serious.

"I promise," repeated Charlie. "What's going on in that head of yours, kid?"

Kyle sighed, tugging on Bandit's leash in an attempt to dissuade him from sniffing around the litter surrounding a garbage can.

"Why don't they ever talk about the trial?"

Kyle looked at his uncle expectantly, growing nervous as the silence between them lengthened.

"Well, kid," Charlie finally said. "People deal with things differently. But first off, I'm staying with you guys, and I'm not supposed to be reading about it or watching anything on TV."

"You know that's not what I mean. That's the excuse they give now," protested Kyle before Charlie had even finished speaking. "But even before you got here, it's been like this. Dana just changes the channel when the news comes on, and Dad brings the newspaper with him to work every day. It's weird."

Charlie cursed himself for not having expected his nephew to come up with a rejoinder so quickly. Kyle was not only book smart, but incredibly perceptive, and had clearly been thinking about what he was going to say on the subject before having brought it up in the course of conversation.

"What do they say when you ask them about it?"

"What you just said. And then my Dad says we'll talk about it later, and we don't."

"What does Dana say?" They stopped at the corner, waiting for Bandit to decide in which direction he wanted to head.

"Nothing," said Kyle, bending down to scratch Bandit as they waited for the light to change. "I mean, literally nothing. She doesn't say anything, and then she changes the subject."

Charlie sighed. "Dana sometimes acts like things just aren't happening," he ceded. "But really she's just processing it in her mind. She needs to think things through before she talks about them. For a very long time, mind you."

"It's not fair," Kyle protested. "It affects me too, and they pretend it doesn't."

"Have you told them about _how_ it affects you? Maybe they just don't realize it," offered Charlie, heading into overdrive as his mounting frustration with his sister threatened to erupt. "Especially since you've never met Bill, which is a good thing, believe me. I don't think that my sister realizes she's being so selfish."

"So what do I do?" Kyle asked. He had never thought about the situation in the way in which Charlie framed it, and immediately began to think about all of the times his stepmother had honed in on time he was supposed to spend with his father alone. And then he thought about all of the questions that he had already asked about the trial, only to be met with either silence or lame promises that they'll talk about it later. Charlie's comment hardened his resolve to find out more about what had really happened.

"So ask me your questions, and I'll answer them," Charlie decided. "Honestly." Why should his nephew be miserable when that didn't have to be the case? No one deserved that, he thought.

By the time they got back home, nearly two hours had passed. Kyle's anxiety had quelled considerably, and although Charlie's voice was quite hoarse, it was well worth it to see the boy in a better frame of mind. "Buddy," Charlie called out to Kyle as they approached the house, lowering his voice.

"We talked about a lot of stuff, and well, if you aren't ready to talk about all of this with your Dad, you might just want to…"

"Play dumb?"

"Yeah, for lack of a better term. I might have said not talk about this at all, but playing dumb works too."

As they sat down for dinner, Charlie couldn't help but feel slightly uneasy about sharing so much information with his nephew. He could certainly justify his decision; Kyle could easily find out everything they talked about as the trial unfolded through the newspaper, or television, or even from overhearing household conversations. Beyond that, Charlie was sharing _his_ story, not that of his sister; Dana wouldn't be able to argue that her younger brother had betrayed any confidence, or shared anything unduly private. He had also been careful not to mention anything in regards to his father, or the relation the trial had to the web of conspiracy Mulder had explained to him that summer.

"Nervous about tomorrow?"

Charlie nearly spilled his beer. He had been watching a baseball game with Mulder, but had clearly zoned out.

"I don't even know if I'll be called onto the stand tomorrow," Charlie answered. "Just want to get this thing over and done with."

"Thanks for taking Kyle out," Mulder continued as he flipped channels during a commercial break. "The kids were a handful all day and Will was pretty fussy. I just couldn't leave Scully high and dry. She needs the break when they nap. I've been traveling more than we expected, and the boys aren't great sleepers, and she's just exhausted. She'll never admit to it, though."

Charlie felt his insides twist upon hearing Mulder's words. He tried to think back on his earlier conversation with Kyle; had he unloaded too much about his sister? He hadn't even thought about the other things Dana had been dealing with over the last few months—learning to parent not only toddlers, but also an adolescent who was dealing with abandonment issues. Instead, he had been focusing on his sister's relationship with their troubled brother, and her reluctance to learn more about what exactly had happened all those years ago. In working through all of his frustration, Charlie had acquired tunnel vision, completely blinding himself of the present-day challenges Dana was facing. He had convinced himself that his sister was in denial of everything related to the trial. But the more rational reasoning was probably along the lines of her doing her best to make the primary focus of her life on the present—on raising her new family—and that she didn't have the luxury to waste her energy on painful things that had already happened.

And if he hadn't been able to make those distinctions until now, how the hell could he expect an eleven-year-old to come to the same conclusions?

Fuck. He needed to clear up some things. Immediately.

"So can you do it? If you're still here that is?"

Charlie stammered, forgetting that his brother-in-law was even in the room. "I zoned out there, sorry. Repeat that?"

"Saturday. Can you babysit if you're still here?"

"Sure," Charlie recovered, still lost in thought. "Where are you guys going?"

"I don't know yet," Mulder answered truthfully. The fact of the matter was that he had no idea where to take Scully, and he wanted to make sure that wherever they ended up going, whatever they ended up doing, was just as thoughtful as the gift she had given him the day before.

What he really wanted to do was to get a hotel room, even one somewhere in DC, but he knew that Scully wasn't ready to leave the boys overnight without one of them being home. Although, he mused, just because they had a reservation didn't mean that they had to stay overnight. While a night of uninterrupted sex would be more than tempting, Mulder knew that it lacked the underlying sentimentality of Scully's gift. In any event, if either of them were worried about the kids, they wouldn't get very far anyway. At least he had four-and-a-half days to think about it.

XXXXXXXX

Mulder had tried to convince her that she should go to bed early, but despite her exhaustion, Scully wasn't ready to go to sleep yet. She had noticed that Kyle was withdrawn during dinner, and she wanted to know whether it was because of what had happened in the museum. She made her way up to the third floor, and knocked on Kyle's door. "Yeah?" he said as he opened it, Bandit at his feet.

"I wanted to ask you something," Scully said nervously. "And I need you to be honest."

Kyle went pale, wondering whether Charlie had betrayed his confidence. Instead, he breathed out a sigh of relief when he heard the rest of what Dana had to say.

"Did it bother you when that woman in the museum assumed that I was your mother?" Scully asked.

Kyle shook his head. "No," he said. "It's weird, but it doesn't bother me. Does it bother you?"

"Not at all," Scully warmly responded. "I just—I know we're still working things out, so if it ever does bother you, I need you to promise that you'll tell me."

"Okay," Kyle said. The truth of the matter was that he had barely given that conversation a second thought, and it didn't even bother him now that he was directly asked. In fact, any annoyance and aggravation he felt towards his stepmother stemmed from one of two things: her refusal to talk about the trial, and the fact that he had limited one-on-one time with his father. "I have some homework I need to finish."

"What are you working on?" Scully asked. She didn't want to remind him that he had been bragging about finishing his homework earlier that weekend.

"History project," he said quietly. "I'm finishing a section of the paper. So is Chloe."

Scully tried not to betray the surge of pride that ran through her. "Let me know if you need help," she smiled. "You're a good friend."

XXXXXXXXX

"Did you talk to him?" Mulder asked Scully as he climbed into bed, dropping a kiss on her shoulder blade. Despite entering a darkened bedroom, he knew that she hadn't fallen asleep yet.

"Hmm," Scully said, burrowing into him as he spooned behind her. "He said it didn't bother him. He was busy working on his history paper."

"I let him use the laptop," Mulder said. "I was hoping that was why. I know he was on the phone with someone earlier. I'll ask him about it tomorrow."

Scully let out a sigh of contentment as Mulder softly stroked her abdomen. "Today was fun," she said. "I think everyone had a good time. I know I did."

"We haven't talked about Halloween," Mulder said. "Do you think I can be in charge of costumes?"

She smiled. "You want to make sure that Nathan and Will are aliens, huh?"

"Re-tic-u-lans, Scully," laughed Mulder. "Am I that obvious?"

"Yes, but that's beside the point," rushed Scully. "I should have known that you would want to bypass the traditional pumpkin outfit."

"No son of mine will be a squash," Mulder protested. "Or any other kind of vegetable."

"I was kind of hoping that they would want to be puppies," admitted Scully as she turned around, stroking Mulder's side.

"Those sweatshirts, Scully? Lamest costume idea ever," he teased, nipping her right ear.

"So what kinds of aliens, Mulder? ET? Mork? Not Alf, I hope."

"It's going to be a surprise. You won't have to do anything," he promised. "I'll even get the candy."

"Don't pretend you're making that offer for my benefit."

"I am, that's my only motivation, I swear," Mulder said in between kisses. He snuck a look at the bedside clock. The kids had been in bed for nearly four hours; if they hadn't woken up by now, they should be in the clear, as Nathan's nightmares usually would have happened by this point. Will, on the other hand, usually woke up crying sometime between three and five; his sons certainly knew how to divide and conquer. He pushed those thoughts aside to concentrate on the here and now, determined to take advantage of an uninterrupted chunk of time with his partner.

XXXXXXX

Just as he had done every morning at home for the past few weeks, Mulder slipped the morning copy of the _Post_ in his briefcase; while Scully pretended not to notice, she handed Mulder a mug of freshly brewed coffee. Kyle and Charlie exchange pointed looks when their backs were turned, with throwing his hands up in the air.

"Hey, Kyle," Charlie whispered. He needed to distract his sister, so he dumped Will's Cheerios on the floor; sure enough, the one-year-old began to cry, causing a loud enough commotion that he and Kyle could speak unobserved.

"Did you just do that on purpose?" Kyle asked, amazed; he knew that he would have to remember that trick for later.

"You just had a rare opportunity to learn from the master," Charlie explained rapidly, his voice low and raspy. "Listen, I might have been a bit too harsh on Dana yesterday."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "No, you were exactly right," he protested. "And it doesn't matter anyway. I already know everything. You told me."

"Ready to rock-and-roll?" Mulder asked as Nathan knocked into him, tugging on his suit. Kyle practically jumped out of his chair until he realized that there was no way his father could have overheard him.

"Play with me," Nathan begged, his lip quivering.

Kyle groaned as he picked up up his lunch sack from the counter. "Every morning," he called out to no one in particular, picking up his backpack from the floor.

"Need a ride?" Mulder asked Charlie as he disentangled Nathan from his leg, placing him back on the floor.

"No, Preston is picking me up," Charlie said with a wave. "I guess I'll see you tonight."

"Not unless you're on the news this afternoon," Kyle said without thinking.

"Kyle," warned Mulder as the eleven-year-old quickly busied himself with petting his dog goodbye, hoping that his remark wouldn't lead to a lecture during the car ride to school.

"Have a good day," Scully called out, ignoring Kyle's comment as she wiped away Nathan's crocodile tears. "Hey monkey, do you want to go draw Daddy a picture?"

Charlie had to admit that he was impressed with how his sister had wrangled breakfast, and he almost felt bad about instigating some extra chaos into her morning routine. At least he had been able to observe some of the behavior that Kyle had described the day before, and he had to agree, at the very least, the silent communication between Dana and Mulder was a masterpiece in action.

"Danes?"

"Yup," Scully responded without looking up, continuing to wipe down the table. Despite sitting in the same seat while he ate breakfast, Nathan had managed to spill crumbs everywhere, including the other end of the table.

Charlie made sure that the kids were otherwise occupied; Nathan was busy scribbling with his crayons, and Will was banging his plastic spoon against his highchair tray, noisy but content. "Are you going to watch trial coverage today?"

"I don't have time to watch TV, Charlie," Scully said to her younger brother.

Charlie watched his sister nervously swallow as she concentrated on her task.

"The kids nap," he pointed out. The words were barely out of his mouth before his sister shot him the death glare. "Okay, poor choice of words."

An arched eyebrow signaled to him that he might be able to salvage their conversation, if he treaded oh-so-carefully. "I want you to watch my testimony," he said seriously. "I need you to, Dana. Because when I come back here after I'm done, no matter if it's today, or tomorrow, or even next week, I won't be able to go through it again. And I don't want to keep anything like that from you."

Scully nodded, biting down on her lip, trying her best not to notice the tears that were forming in her brother's eyes. He had every right to make this request, and she needed to do what he asked, and not just for her sake, but for that of the only family member she had left; the only person who knew her childhood and yes, even her awkward adolescence. "Tell Preston to call me when you're called up. I'll drop what I'm doing, okay?"

"Promise?" asked Charlie, his voice cracking. He felt as though he were six years old again, and they were playing one of their secret games of pretend.

"I promise," she whispered.

XXXXXXX

There was a lot Mulder wanted to ask Kyle, but they would only have a few minutes before they picked up Colin. Some mornings that was fine, but on a day like this, when there was so much going on, it frustrated him to no end. "Did you have fun yesterday?" Mulder asked, running through the laundry list of items he wanted to ask his oldest child: the project, the complicated social hierarchy of his friends, whether he was really upset about what happened at the museum, whether he was frustrated with his brothers, whether he was feeling okay about his relationship with his stepmother. But from his somewhat limited experience as a parent, and from his psychology training, he knew that one wrong move—whether it be an unintended sharp tone to his voice, or a question that carried an accusation he hadn't meant—would send the rest of the day into a tailspin.

"Yeah but can we go back and see the rest of the exhibits? We only got through four," Kyle complained, albeit good-naturedly so. "Maybe just you and me?"

"Sure," Mulder nodded. "The ghost tour was fun, right? I had a good time."

"Yeah," agreed Kyle as they approached Colin's house. Mulder figured he had about forty-five seconds of his son's attention left. "Don't mention the project. When Colin gets here. He doesn't know that I helped," his son nervously instructed.

"I won't mention anything," promised Mulder. He wasn't quite sure why a group project had become so complicated, but he didn't think he wanted to find out either.

"Kyle?"

His son snapped to attention, looking at him expectantly.

"You did the right thing, that's all," Mulder said quietly, giving him a small smile. "Working on the project yesterday, that was good."

"Thanks," Kyle grinned shyly.

Mulder relaxed. It was going to be a good day.

XXXXXXX

Scully spent the morning wondering whether the phone would ring, and if it did, whether it would be Preston, or one of his staff members, telling her that she had ten minutes to put on the television. She didn't know whether she wanted it to happen today, or whether she would rather it be pushed off, giving her more time to prepare…which would also mean that she would have more time to worry. She asked herself for the fiftieth time as to whether she would have watched her brother's testimony even if he hadn't made that request.

She hated the fact that she didn't know the answer to that question.

She kept the phone next to her during story hour, hoping that it wouldn't go off in the middle of _Peter Rabbit_, or while they were in the middle of making their crafts. She kept the phone on the bonnet of the stroller, watching it neither vibrate nor ring as they walked home. It was quiet during lunch, it sat silent as she sorted laundry, and nothing rang as she settled the boys into their naps.

And so, she worried.

XXXXXXX

During lunch, Kyle sat with Chloe and Natalie. After he had told Chloe about Colin's plan, they had agreed to come up with a way to distract Natalie from the inevitable drama that Colin was sure to cause that day. Since Kyle also needed to gather as much information as possible about the trial, they were able to kill two birds with one stone. "Do you have them?" he asked as he settled down at the picnic table, opening his red lunch sack.

Natalie nodded, rifling through her backpack. "I have Sunday's _New York Times _and _Washington Post_," she said, somewhat apologetically. "My mom waits two days before she throws anything out. I'll bring in yesterday's tomorrow."

"This is good," Kyle told her as flipped through them. "Thanks."

"Page eight," instructed Chloe. "It was on the front page of today's newspaper too, I think."

"Are you reading about that murder trial?" Aidan Solomon asked, peering at the paper from over Kyle's shoulder.

"It's my step uncle. I never met him though," shrugged Kyle as he scanned the article. "My stepmom hates him."

"That's cool. I mean, it's not cool, but it's…"

"Interesting," supplied Natalie.

"Exactly," Aidan agreed. "So why did he do it?"

"I don't know, that's why I'm reading the article," Kyle deadpanned. "My stepmom doesn't like to talk about it."

"Is she a murderer too?" Aidan asked.

"No, but she's a pathologist. She cuts up dead people."

"Maybe it's genetic," Chloe shrugged, prompting all of them to fall into fits of laughter.

After the bell rang, as they trudged to math class, Chloe reached out to jab Kyle's backpack in an effort to gain his attention. "I shouldn't have said that," she apologized nervously.

"The joke? That was really funny," Kyle reassured her. "I say things like that all the time."

"Your stepmom seems really nice," continued Chloe as they climbed the stairs. "You like her, right?"

"Yeah, it's just weird right now. I can't really explain it," Kyle said. "She's okay but I miss it just being me and my dad sometimes. You saw my brothers, and that was when they were on their best behavior. It's just kind of crazy all the time."

He turned around, noticing that Chloe wasn't keeping up with him. "Are you okay?" he asked, noticing that she looked upset.

She nodded, trying not to cry. "I'm excited about my new brother, and that we're moving to Georgetown, but I miss how it used to be. It's like, all my Dad talks about is how great the baby will be, and how we'll be a family, and it's like I wasn't good enough on my own, or that we weren't a real family until now. And I never felt that way before, even when I would spend some nights at our old place, and others at my new mom's."

"I know exactly what you mean," said Kyle truthfully. Chloe had chosen the words that exactly described how he had been feeling the past few weeks. "Just get used to it. My dad makes a big deal out of everyone else's feelings except mine. That's what happens when you aren't the only child anymore."

XXXXXXXXXX

When his phone rang the next morning while he was flipping through case files sent to him for consult, Mulder instinctively knew that Charlie had been called to the stand. "Did you get a hold of her?" Mulder asked his attorney.

"She knows," Preston said quietly. "There's a recess right now. He'll be on right after lunch."

Mulder thanked him for the notice, and then immediately began to pack up his things. There was no way in hell he was staying in the office. "I'll be working at home this afternoon," Mulder lied to his partner, knowing that Addison wouldn't press the issue, at least not while they were in an earshot of the rest of the team.

"I might have some stuff for you to sign later," Addison said apologetically. "If I need to swing by…"

"That'll work," Mulder assured his partner. He practically ran to the garage, wondering whether he should call Scully to let her know that he was on his way. He decided against it, not wanting to give her the opportunity to try and convince him otherwise. However, when he finally walked into their kitchen a half-hour later, he noticed that Scully was not at all surprised to see him. In fact, she looked almost relieved at his appearance.

"Daddy!"

Nathan ran to him, giggling as Mulder picked him up and flipped him upside down before setting him back on the floor and doing the same with Will. He busied the boys with their magnets before approaching Scully. "Thanks for coming home," she said softly. He knew instantly that he had made the right decision.

"Is Elisabeth still coming over?" Mulder asked her. For the past few weeks, the grad student had been spending a couple of afternoons a week with the boys, allowing Scully to run some errands and to do some things around the house.

"Yeah. She'll be here around three," Scully said, looking at the clock.

"Do you want me to have her come earlier?"

Scully shook her head. "They'll be sleeping until then, so it doesn't really matter," she said nervously, busying herself with pulling items out of the fridge, and then placing half of them back a few moments later.

Mulder felt helpless as he stood around the kitchen, watching Scully make lunch and the kids play in the corner. She insisted on putting the boys down for their naps, and all he could do was walk around the house mindlessly, turning the TV on but keeping the volume low. He had been trying to stay away from the trial coverage; all of the newspapers he took out of the house in the morning wound up on Addison's desk or in the trash. Although curious by nature, Mulder never felt the need to follow-up on the profile he had conducted the previous winter; mentally, it was filed away with the other hundreds of case files he had read over the years. Scully had never asked him about it either, and he never judged her for that decision.

"Stay with me?"

He hadn't noticed that Scully was now standing next to him, reaching for his hand. "Of course," he said, leading her to the couch. Then, they waited.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

It was difficult for her to concentrate on what Charlie was saying. The words that poured out of his mouth were one thing, but what overwhelmed her were their significance. Every phrase triggered memories that she hadn't thought about in years. Scully had been hoping that when the time finally came, she would be able to view the proceedings as a professional—and would be able to rely on her ability to emotionally remove herself from the matter, at least to a certain degree.

Unfortunately, Special Agent Dana Scully was out of practice.

Instead of watching a witness give testimony she was listening to her little brother speak. She knew that Preston's team would have stressed to Charlie the importance of only answering questions directly, and to avoid the temptation to otherwise speak. Although she could tell that her brother was truly trying to restrain himself, she knew that he was probably also saying too much.

As Charlie spoke, she remembered everything-she remembered fighting, remembered the yelling, remembered the bullying. All of a sudden, she was ten years old again, determined to not cause her parents any problems. She threw herself into her books, into her homework. She hid with Charlie in his closet, or underneath his bed. She knocked faintly on Missy's bedroom door, hoping that she might be able to enter, at least for a few moments. She ate her vegetables and only spoke when spoken to first. She remembered the exhaustion in her mother's face, the anger and frustration in her father's voice as they argued in harsh whispers that thundered through the thin walls of their naval base housing. She saw Charlie's dirt and tear streaked face, a the look of defiance on Missy's, and even remembered the lingering scent of pot poorly masked with drugstore perfume.

But the memories ended there as Charlie's testimony continued. She wasn't there for the next part of his story, and that was what pained her the most.

She needed to carefully listen, to anticipate her younger brother's lies as he testified that he had no knowledge of a police investigation into her brother's actions that weekend, that he never saw a law enforcement officer or government official speak with either Bill or their parents. Charlie's cadence changed at this point; he wasn't adding in as much detail as he had earlier, and Scully prayed that no one would pick up on it.

Scully was dimly aware of Mulder entering and exiting the room, first to let in Elisabeth, and then to help her pack up the boys for a trip to the park. She sat, molded into her perch on the couch, barely registering his movemements whenever he sat down or stood up.

Then all of a sudden, the TV was switched off, prompting Scully to look up in surprise. "What?" she asked. It was as though she had snapped out of a trance.

"It's over, Scully," Mulder responded quietly. "He goes back for cross-examination tomorrow. It's almost five."

It hadn't felt like four hours, Scully thought. Instead, it was a toss between four minutes and four years.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, the steely determination in his hazel eyes signaling to her that she had to answer.

"It makes me sad," she finally said. It was the honest truth.

"How can I fix it, Scully? Just tell me," softly pleaded Mulder.

"Love me," she shrugged before lying her head on his shoulder. "Remind me about how much love we have here, in this house.. The past isn't important, Mulder. I need to remember that."

The timing couldn't have been more perfect, Mulder mused—the clatter from the back door signaled that Elisabeth had returned with the kids. Within seconds, a hurricane of toddler gusted into the living room, both boys somewhat sandy and dirty, eager to greet their parents, and provide a welcome distraction for their mother. "You guys need baths," Scully said as she picked Will up. "Did you have fun at the park? It sure looks like you did."

Mulder led Elisabeth into the kitchen. "Can you still stay for a few more hours?" he asked quietly.

She eagerly nodded. "Of course. Coop said he'll come by after class too," she assured him before being cut off by Kyle bounding into the room, throwing his backpack on the floor as he made a beeline to the fridge for some Gatorade, prompting Bandit to bark, just as the phone began ringing.

By the time Mulder finished his call a couple of minutes later, the kitchen had cleared, and silence had been restored.

"I just ordered pizza," he explained to Kyle as the eleven-year-old reentered the room.

"Why are you home so early?" Kyle asked, suspicious. Usually Elisabeth only stayed late when his father was traveling.

"Charlie began his testimony this afternoon," Mulder told his son, noticing how he hadn't brightened up at the news of pizza. "He's actually going to stay at a hotel tonight, since he isn't supposed to talk about it until his testimony is finished."

"So you went to court?"

"No, I was here," continued Mulder. "Preston just called and told me."

"Why did you stay here? I thought you had to work." Kyle was frustrated; his father had been promising to take off early one of these days to watch basketball practice, and hadn't yet done so.

"It's been a tough day for Dana," Mulder said, trying to figure out why his son sounded so aggravated, immediately becoming distracted when his cell phone was going off. "I have to take this, it's probably work."

Kyle kicked the nearest cabinet, comforted by the fact that Bandit had seemed to sense his master's distress, and began to lick his leg. He stared his father down, half-listening to what he was saying, becoming more frustrated when he realized his father was making plans to meet someone later that night.

"Can you knock it off?" Mulder asked Kyle as the boy continuously kicked the legs of the kitchen table as he moodily sat in one of the chairs.

"So what happened this afternoon?" persisted Kyle.

"Charlie started his testimony, and he has to finish up tomorrow," Mulder repeated as he reheated some coffee.

"So why was it so hard for Dana?" Kyle asked, tears welling, his voice getting louder and louder. "How come everything is about her, Dad? She didn't have to do anything, Charlie did. All that stuff happened to Charlie, not her. And she doesn't talk about it, like it's a big secret. But you know what? She's selfish! That's what I think, and that's what Charlie thinks too. He told me so."

Mulder stared at him open-mouthed, completely stunned. He knew that Kyle had been disgruntled, but he hadn't realized how frustrated his son truly had been. Every instinct he had screamed that he needed to loudly defend Scully, but he knew that would only feed the eleven-year-old's anger even more.

"Well I have to say that I appreciate the honesty."

Both Mulder and Kyle whipped around, facing Scully, who looked straight ahead, barely reacting to her stepson's outburst. "I need to run an errand," she said, grabbing the keys from their hook and leaving the house.

"Don't," Mulder pleaded, knowing that she wouldn't be able to hear him. Somehow he had the cognizance to throw a couple of twenty dollar bills on the counter for the pizza, as he rushed after his partner.

Kyle slid to the floor, sobbing, Bandit jumping into his lap, as he realized his father had left him alone.


	34. Chapter Thirty Three

**Happy Reading!**

The sight of his eleven-year-old son sobbing on the kitchen floor, his knees drawn into his chest, broke Mulder's heart. As he approached the boy, he was taken aback by Bandit, who growled at him suspiciously. Even though it was a bit of a difficult move to maneuver, Mulder picked them both up, carrying them down the hall to his office, kicking the door behind him.

Kyle tried to reorient himself as his father settled them both on the old leather couch, before wrapping them both in the old Navajo blanket. The soft scratch of the fabric felt comforting; he felt safe, cocooned in its warmth, knowing it was just him and his father in the room. It felt like old times, the two of them against the world.

"I thought you left," Kyle managed to sniffle, once he determined he would be able to speak without crying.

"I would never ever leave you, buddy," Mulder told him seriously, wrapping his arms around his son, as Kyle splayed his head on his chest. He remembered the countless nights when as a small child, the boy would slip out of bed and join his father in the living room, determined to spend as much time with him as possible. Instead of tucking him back in, Mulder would create a makeshift nest on the couch for the two of them to slumber. Although he treasured those memories, they were bittersweet; there weren't enough of those nights, and nothing Mulder could do or say would change that.

"Are you going to make me talk?"

"Not if you aren't ready," assured Mulder, rocking Kyle gently, wishing he could wipe away his son's pain. "You don't have to say anything right now, bud. I'm not going anywhere."

He mulled over the afternoon's events. He had managed to catch Scully just as she was opening the front door; when they locked eyes as she looked over her shoulder, his heart was in his throat. He had been unable to gauge her reaction to what she had overheard by her monotone inflection, and so had envisioned her mood as angry, bitter; but if the look on her face indicated anything, it was exhaustion. "Don't leave," he had begged, desperation apparent in his voice. Swimming through his mind were the words she had written in her birthday letter to him. _You have always walked after me, and I will always walk after you_.

"Mulder, I have to," Scully had wearily insisted. "Nathan knocked over half the medicine cabinet into the tub, including the bacitracin and bandaids. The cut on his elbow—"

She stopped upon hearing the ungodly sound that emanated from the kitchen, which prompted them both to rush into the next room. As they both stood over Kyle, Mulder looked to Scully, his face frozen with fear.

She gave Mulder a comforting nod, kneeling down to her stepson's side, softly stroking his shoulder. Without looking up, Kyle had recoiled from her touch, crying out, "No, I want my dad. Just Dad."

Scully had to temper the sudden twinge of rejection that sprang from her stomach, stepping away from Kyle as Mulder leapt to action. This wasn't about her, and rightly so; it was about a boy who needed his father.

She helplessly follow them down the hall until the office door suddenly slammed shut in her face. She slid to the floor, her back against the wall, trying to determine if there was anything that she could do without overstepping the invisible bounds of her role; she wasn't so much a stepmother as was the partner of a father with a son who was hurting. If it were Nathan or Will, she would be in there with them, but that wasn't the case. She could make out some muffled sobs, which tore her up inside. But the simultaneous sounds of the doorbell and a cry from the second floor reminded her that she was needed elsewhere.

Reluctantly, she left her post to attend to the other chaos of the afternoon.

XXXX

In short order, the pizza was paid for and collected, Coop appeared only to be immediately tasked with running to the pharmacy, and Elisabeth entertained Will while Scully sat with Nathan, who kept trying to peel off the towel that his mother pressed to his elbow, making his impatience known to all. She couldn't help but remain distracted even after Coop returned, and as she patched up her son, she listened for any sign of sound or movement coming from the direction of the office.

Satisfied that Nathan's bandage was tightly fixed, Scully settled him into his booster seat at the table.

"He's having a bad day," Scully quietly explained to Coop, he who asked about Kyle's whereabouts. Both boys were digging into the pizza as though they hadn't eaten in a week. "Mulder's with him now. I—I don't know quite what happened. He came home from school, and, well, just wilted."

Coop stared down at the floor before speaking. "When my parents split up, I spent a lot of time with my uncle. Mulder would always take the time to listen to me. It really meant a lot."

Scully nodded; Coop was right—Mulder was a wonderful listener.

"Scully."

She whipped around, alarmed by the seriousness of Mulder's voice as she saw him stealthily motion to her from the hallway. She could tell that from his vantage point, the toddlers wouldn't be able to see him. She knew it meant that he needed to get back to Kyle, but what she couldn't parse out was whether that it was a bad sign or a good sign. They both ducked into the living room.

"He needs—tomorrow—" Mulder tried to begin, at a loss for words.

"Dr. Meadows?" Scully asked.

He nodded. "I'll call him out of school, and deal with the car pool," Scully continued, gripping Mulder's forearms, searching into his eyes for some sort of clue as to what he could be thinking. "Dr. Meadows explained that this would happen."

"I know," replied Mulder quietly. "It's one thing to know it clinically speaking, and another to see it happen to someone you love. But Scully, I know—I know that today has been difficult for y—"

"Mulder, we've talked about this," Scully interrupted him, keeping her voice low but forceful. "Only you can be these boys' father. You need to be with Kyle now. I can take care of myself."

"But…Scully, you're important too," Mulder blandly said, his face mournful. Clumsily, he grasped her sides, locking into her eyes, wishing he could convey his awareness that she too was struggling. It felt like a million years earlier that he had rushed home from work in an effort to be there for her. He knew that Charlie's testimony had deeply upset her, and he had little insight into what she was thinking. Two of the people he loved most in the world were in incredible pain, and he was powerless.

"Go, Mulder. Be with him," urged Scully. "He needs you right now. I'll take care of the calls. If something come sup…do you want me to check-in on you later? Do you want me to bring in some pizza? I just…I just don't want to interrupt."

"You wouldn't be an interruption," Mulder told her, grazing her forehead with his lips. "I better get back to him. Maybe he'll want to eat later."

Scully bit her lip in frustration as she watched Mulder walk back towards the office, once again shutting the door behind him.

XXXXXXXXX

Nathan and Will were giggling up a storm as Coop entertained them. Scully didn't think she had ever seen the kitchen table in such disarray, but hearing her sons' gales of laughter lifted her spirits. She hated the fact that she was unable to give her boys anything close to her full attention.

"I hate to ask, but can you stay longer?" Scully asked Elisabeth quietly. She didn't know how she would have been able to have handled everything that had transpired over the past few hours without their help.

The brunette nodded. "I don't think I would even be able to convince him to leave at this point," she said helplessly, her head pointing towards Coop, who was acting out something involving Will's dinosaurs, Nathan's train, the pepper shaker, and some silverware. "Is Kyle okay?"

"I hope so," Scully tightly answered as she picked up the cordless phone. "I—I just need to make some calls."

"We don't have any plans. Take as long as you need, Dana," Elisabeth assured the older woman.

Scully nodded, relieved that the boys were so focused on their guests. She ducked upstairs, making the easy phone calls first—a message on the school's answering service that Kyle had a stomach bug and would be out, before sharing the same news with the Belkins family, notifying them that they were on their own for the next morning's school run.

The third call was the most difficult. Scully dialed Dr. Meadows, hoping that his office would still be staffed, and as luck would have it, she was able to speak with him directly. She hesitated as he picked up his line, suddenly unsure of what to say.

"Kyle broke down this afternoon," she softly explained. "He and my part—my husband were arguing, and he just curled up on the floor and started sobbing. Mulder's been sitting with him for the past hour. We're not quite sure what's going on, so we want to know if we can move up his next appointment."

"This isn't surprising, Dana," Dr. Meadows said thoughtfully. "It's completely normal for something like this to happen. I do have a free slot tomorrow morning at 10 if you can bring him in then. I'll keep his Saturday appointment too, and we'll reassess tomorrow."

"Thank God," Scully breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm not sure what your policy on this is, but would he be able to bring his puppy with him? I know it's an odd request, but the dog—"

"He can bring his dog. Pets can be very soothing for patients," Dr. Meadows kindly responded. "You know that I can't tell you anything that Kyle discusses during our sessions. But will both you and your husband be there tomorrow?"

"Yes, of course," rushed Scully.

"The best thing for him will be to sleep tonight," Meadows said after a beat. "And make sure he eats something too."

Scully wandered back downstairs in a daze, relieved to see Nathan and Will still content, oblivious to the drama surrounding them, as they climbed all over Coop, who was protecting himself with the couch cushions. It heartened her to see them so happy. She wandered into the kitchen to return the phone to its base, startled to see Mulder reheating some pizza in the microwave.

"I had to take the dog out," Mulder explained. "Kyle's taking a shower now. He promised to eat something afterwards."

"The water will help calm him down," said Scully approvingly. "We're all set for 10 tomorrow. Meadows wants us both there too."

"I figured," Mulder sighed, gripping the kitchen counter and standing back, looking at the floor. "Kyle asked me to camp out in his room tonight. We used to do that when he was younger—sleeping bags on the floor. I figured it's a good sign, that he wants me around."

Scully nodded in agreement. "Did he say anything?"

Mulder shrugged. "It doesn't make sense to me yet," he truthfully explained. "He said that he just wants it to be me and him and Bandit tonight. I'm hoping he'll open up later."

"Would—would it be better if I left? Give you two some privacy?" The idea had been swirling around in her head all evening.

"Scully? What?" Mulder looked up at her, alarmed.

"Hear me out, Mulder. Kyle needs time alone with you, and he needs the security, the reinforcement, that _this_ is his home," Scully explained. "If you think it would be best for him if it were just you two, I'll go. I don't want to separate you from the boys, but I can just take—"

"No," Mulder said forcefully, trying to catch up to Scully's mode of thinking. He reached out to grab her arm. "I agree with you that he needs to have the security that this is his home, but not like that. I don't want you or the boys to leave. Do not take them, Scully."

"It's not that I want to leave, Mulder. I don't. But if it would benefit Kyle in any way—"

"Home is where his family is, he needs to know that too," clipped Mulder, his hazel eyes blazing, his grasp on her tightening. "And you are his family now. As is Nathan, as is Will. I'm not splitting us up, even just for one night. But if Dr. Meadows thinks that Kyle needs some time or space, or both, that's a different story. But only then will we make that decision, together."

"Okay. Dr. Meadows didn't sound too surprised when I talked to him," offered Scully, her voice softening.

"We knew this would happen eventually," Mulder said, pulling her closer. "I just thought it would be more in the form of him wanting to go back to New York, or even the Vineyard."

"Can I do anything?" She hated seeing Mulder in so much pain; it looked as though he had aged ten years since he had woken up that morning.

"Just keep showing up," Mulder softly answered, playing with her hair, pulling back when he heard the microwave ding. "We're going to get through this."

Scully mournfully watched Mulder head upstairs, carting the puppy under one arm, and leftovers with the other. She allowed herself a couple of moments to stare off into space, wondering how it was that everything could change in just a matter of hours.

XXXXX

Mulder awkwardly stretched out on Kyle's bedroom floor. He was zipped up in his sleeping bag; although it provided ample warmth, it carried a faintly musty scent. He tried thinking back as to when he last used it; although he and Scully had taken a few trips to the forest over the years, he knew that during most of those cases, he hadn't planned well enough in advance to remember to even bring it. For years, it had sat in the trunk of his car, but since the move, it had been relegated to the basement; after all, three kids required a lot more storage space, even for short trips.

He could tell from Kyle's breathing that the boy wasn't asleep, and he could faintly make out the shadows that he cast when petting Bandit, who was eager to offer comfort, not having left his owner's side since Mulder had carried him up to the third floor earlier that evening.

Mulder stared up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling; Kyle had begun to map out the constellations, but had either grown bored or distracted before finishing the project, as only Orion and the Big Dipper were completed. Scully had seriously scared him earlier, when she asked if she should leave. It was the last thing in the world he wanted, and it pained him that she had made the suggestion so readily. Looking back, it had been a practical suggestion to consider, but as he had processed those words passing through her lips, he had to admit that it felt as though she had given up on them. On him. On their family.

It had only taken thirty seconds for Mulder to realize that she wasn't offering it as a recommendation, but as a sacrifice of sorts; something she could do to make things better. Still, it had been the longest thirty seconds he could remember. And now he was wallowing in the residual guilt for having doubted her resolve.

"Are you still up, buddy?" Mulder finally asked.

"Yeah," Kyle humphed, his voice muffled by a pillow.

"What are you thinking?" Mulder hoped he didn't come off as a nag given the questions with which he had been peppering his son; he truly wanted to know what was going the eleven-year-old's head. "I was just remembering how we used to do this when you were little."

"Can you tell me a ghost story?" asked Kyle in a small voice.

"Sure," responded Mulder, wishing that he could see his son's face. "Do you want to come down here, buddy?"

Mulder kept his breathing steady when he was met with silence. Once certain he could keep his voice under control, he began to recite one of Kyle's favorites, a ghost story about the battle of Gettysburg, which they had visited a couple of summers previous. After hearing some rustling, Mulder turned to find Kyle at his side, along with a pile of blankets and pillows. With Bandit between them, Mulder continued his story. Upon finishing, he asked his son if he wanted more and Kyle sleepily nodded. Even after the eleven-year-old was fast asleep, Mulder kept reciting his favorite tales for good measure, determined to keep his son's worries at bay.

XXXXXXX

Scully always had trouble sleeping without Mulder, but somehow, the knowledge that he was one floor away instead of across the country, made her insomnia all the more worse. As she stared at the empty expanse beside her, she wallowed in the helplessness that she felt upon seeing Kyle in such misery. What had alarmed her the most was how small and fragile he had suddenly become while crumpled on the kitchen floor. That image, ingrained in her mind, melded with similar scenes of an earlier time in her life. Scenes involving Charlie.

Kyle. Charlie. Exhausted, she attempted to ignore the testimony she had watched her brother deliver that afternoon. She couldn't change the past, but she was able to do everything in her power to make things better for her family. And right now, that meant she couldn't spend her energy on worrying about events that happened a lifetime ago.

The next morning, as she readied Nathan and Will for breakfast and for a morning with Coop, who had eagerly volunteered to cover babysitting duty the previous evening, she debated whether she should make sure that Mulder and Kyle were awake. Satisfied that Nathan and Will would get into minimal trouble after baby-gating the living room, Scully approached the third floor with some trepidation. She hesitantly knocked on the bedroom door, calling out that breakfast was ready in the most casual voice she could muster before heading back to the kids. A few moments later, after she had managed to clean up the mess of books and pens that Will had knocked off an end table, she heard father and son and dog descend down the stairs.

Although Mulder hadn't slept well that night, he was heartened to see that Kyle seemed to have woken up well-rested. When he saw his cell phone lying on the kitchen counter, he cursed. He had completely forgotten that he had made plans to meet with Andy Dearborn from the Department of Justice the previous evening. They had emailed a couple of times since they met that summer, but they hadn't spoken before the previous evening. Dearborn had called minutes before Kyle's meltdown, saying he had some important information. "Shit," Mulder repeated, rubbing his eyes, annoyed that he had completely forgotten about their appointment.

"Everything okay?" Scully asked him as she poured herself another cup of coffee.

"Yeah," Mulder mumbled. "Can you call Addison and let him know I'll be out of touch this morning? I need to sort something out before we leave."

Scully nodded, perplexed, reaching for the phone, relaying to Mulder's partner that the kids were sick, and Mulder would be in touch around noon. She still hadn't met Addison, but Mulder still seemed to be working well with him.

"How are you?" she asked Kyle a few minutes later, as he emerged from the back door, Bandit's leash in hand.

"I don't have to go to school today, right?" the eleven-year-old ask nervously.

"No school today," Scully promised, relieved that she had at least that small piece of good news to share with him.

XXXXXXX

By the time Mulder had emerged from his office, obviously flustered, it was time to leave. Scully and Mulder, after a single exchange of glances, silently agreed that this would be a two-car trip. "You can bring Bandit. I checked," she said to Kyle as he got up from the kitchen table, nearly knocking over his orange juice.

"You're sure?" he asked, incredulous.

"Promise," Scully assured him with a smile.

Despite having left the house at the same time, Mulder and Kyle were sitting in the waiting room by the time Scully arrived at Dr. Meadows' office. "What? Why?" Kyle looked confused when he saw his stepmother.

"I told you she was coming," Mulder gently reminded his son. "Last night."

"Oh," Kyle shrugged. "I forgot."

Mulder looked over at his son, relieved that he didn't look upset. He then looked at Scully, still standing in front of them, holding his hand out to her, motioning for her to sit on his other side. "Thank you," he whispered as he pulled her left hand up to his lips, giving it a small kiss.

And then they waited.

XXXXXX

Neither of them spoke until after they heard the click of Dr. Meadows' office door. "I just hope he talks," Mulder admitted, the frustration apparent in his voice.

"Are you alright?" Scully asked him as he slumped back in his chair.

"I will be," Mulder half-heartedly responded. He turned to her. "What about you?"

"I'm fine," she assured him before she could catch herself. "All things considered, that is."

"You're missing Charlie's cross-examination," murmured Mulder, keeping his voice low and squeezing her hand.

"This is where I need to be—where we need to be right now," Scully protested. "We'll figure the rest out later."

Although they both had much to say to one another, neither of them spoke until Dr. Meadows invited them into his office, where Kyle was seated on an armchair with Bandit asleep in his lap. The eleven-year-old did not look upset, although the wad of tissues on his side indicated that might not have been the case earlier in his session. "Kyle has something he would like to say," Meadows began politely, giving his patient a small nod.

"It bothers me that you won't talk about the trial," Kyle said, his voice steady, gaining the courage to look his father and stepmother in the eye after he finished. "You sometimes make me talk about things I don't like talking about, so why can't you follow your own rules?"

Mulder and Scully looked at one another. He had an oversimplified, yet valid, point. Scully sent some sort of silent communication to her partner that she would answer the question. "You're right, I don't like talking about the trial," she began, with trepidation in her voice. "I think that you know that I believe my brother is guilty, and I feel terrible for the family of the person he killed."

Kyle let out a frustrated huff. "That's not a real answer," he protested.

"Let her finish, Kyle," Mulder requested, tightening his grip on Scully's hand.

"Other bad things happened around that time," Scully continued, still hesitant. "That don't have to do with the trial. So that's why I don't like talking about it, Kyle. Because I don't like to think about those other things."

It was apparent that Kyle wasn't expecting that answer. A look of confusion swept through the adolescent's face. "I didn't know," he quietly said, stunned.

"I know," responded Scully. From her perch on the couch, she leaned towards Kyle's direction. "When I was a little older than you, I was part of a medical experiment. I didn't know it at the time, but I found out recently that my parents knew, and that they didn't stop it. And that makes me angry and a little sad because I know that if something like that were to ever happen to you or your brothers, your Dad and I would do everything we could to make sure that you are safe."

"Do you know why?" Kyle asked, wide-eyed.

"No," Scully firmly said. "And I can't ask them."

"So it's kind of like how my mom left?"

Scully nodded, giving a quick glance to Mulder, who had a stunned expression on his face. It was the first time that Kyle had mentioned Diana in months.

"I don't like talking about my mom either," Kyle whispered, as he pet Bandit more firmly, waking the puppy, who immediately licked his hand.

"It can be tricky," Scully agreed. "But would you feel better if we talked about the trial? I can try to answer your questions."

XXXXXX

Scully did her best to answer Kyle's questions, surprised about the level of detail that he already knew. Although he didn't mention her younger brother by name, she knew that he and Charlie must have discussed the trial and his testimony. In the back of her mind, she tried to determine whether Charlie had overstepped his bounds as an uncle, but she tried to see the situation from Kyle's point-of-view. She wasn't sure whether Charlie's information had comforted Kyle or had instead, fueled his confusion even further; still, she had to believe that her brother had his nephew's best interests at heart.

While their discussion may have focused on the trial, Scully knew that it was truly about a tangled web of other issues, many of which would not be sorted out that morning, in Dr. Meadows' office, and instead would require long-term care and attention.

"I know this wasn't easy," Mulder said softly to Scully once Dr. Meadows excused them, in order to follow-up with Kyle alone. His words vastly understated his true feelings about what had transpired that morning. Once again, he was in awe of his partner for recognizing that she needed to move beyond her comfort zone in order to help Kyle heal. She usually only opened up like that when they were alone, and it felt almost invasive for him to see the presence of two other people in the room while she spoke.

He felt a surge of protectiveness when her voice came close to cracking during their conversation, and a part of him wanted to shout that they had no idea how difficult it was for her, how much it cost Scully to verbalize these thoughts. No eleven-year-old, no matter how sensitive, would truly be able to understand what was at stake; a trained psychologist with twenty years of experience would be able to grasp it on a clinical level. But neither of them knew Scully the way he did. So he kept his mouth shut, and offered her his hand.

Mulder knew that Scully was exhausted when she leaned her head against his shoulder slightly. He grasped her more tightly and when Dr. Meadows asked them to leave him and Kyle alone for a few minutes, he placed his right hand on the small of her back, leading her out of the room. "Thank you," he whispered once they were back in the waiting area, bending down to whisper in her ear. He didn't want the scattering of other patients around them to hear. After all, this was between them.

Although Scully hadn't shared anything in the session that they previously had not discussed, he still felt as though their privacy had somehow been compromised, and had a sudden urge to whisk them into their bedroom, with the lights off and the door closed, so they could just lie down next to one another, soaking in the darkness before, finally, confronting it.

"It was difficult," Scully whispered back, in a daze. There it was, thought Mulder. He needed to prepare both of them for the impending swell of emotion; their conversation had skimmed the surface of a lot of things, and the impact might not be felt until later that day.

"But I'm glad I did it," she reassured him. He bit his lip. This was one of the many reasons why he fell in love with her.

"I might not be ready today, but we're going to need to talk. I want to try, at least."

Before he could respond, they were interrupted by the opening of Dr. Meadows' door. "We'll see Kyle back on Saturday," he said warmly. "And maybe the three of us could speak next week?"

"Of course," Mulder and Scully said simultaneously.

"Can Bandit come?" Kyle asked.

"Sure," Dr. Meadows smiled, reaching out to pet the puppy in his patient's arms. "If you check with Sally at the front desk, there might be a T-R-E-A-T ready for you two."

As Kyle headed towards the receptionist, Dr. Meadows turned to the other adults. "I'm glad he came today," he shared. "He should be all set to go back to school tomorrow. I'm not sure whether he'll be ready for another heart-to-heart conversation this afternoon, but he might want to talk again. I think that in his own way, he realizes that it was difficult for you, Dana, to open up like that. Kids sometimes forget that they aren't the center of attention, and his perspective has been all the more clouded by his frustration. Take your cues from him over the next few days, and if you have any concerns, give me a call. And I'm glad that you had him bring his dog. I think that really helped him more than anything else during today's session."

After thanking Dr. Meadows profusely, Mulder and Scully walked towards Kyle, hand-in-hand. While Scully scheduled a new appointment, Mulder turned on his cell phone, sighing at the news he had several voice mails waiting for him. Three were from his partner, clearly irritated that Mulder hadn't shown up to work.

"Are you two all set to go home?" Mulder asked, flashing Scully a look that indicated bad news, as they made their way to the garage.

Before anyone could respond, his phone went off again, and Mulder paled. He gruffly answered, moving towards the closest exterior wall in an attempt to get clearer reception. "I'm sorry I didn't show up—something came up with the kids and—" Mulder crankily apologized.

"That doesn't matter," Andy Dearborn warily responded, his voice hushed. "This is about something else. Charlie went off-script during this morning's cross-examination."

"What?" Mulder asked loudly enough that both Scully and Kyle's heads turned in his direction. "What the hell does that mean?"

"He got frustrated at the line of questioning your brother's lawyers took up with him, and announced that his father had paid off the original team investigating the case. They got the jury out of the room, and the judge is in chambers with the attorneys, including your brother's."

XXXXXX

Scully didn't bat an eye when she saw the chaotic condition of the living room; she had a sneaking suspicion that one of the consequences of leaving the boys in Coop's care would be the state of the house. Judging by the big smiles on Nathan and Will's faces, they were having a great time, which was really all that mattered to her. "You look silly," Scully tenderly said to Will, adjusting the pair of pajama pants that were on his head so they weren't covering his eyes. She didn't bother asking why, suspecting that she wouldn't get a clear answer anyway.

Meanwhile, Nathan ran emerged from his hiding place behind the couch, a pillowcase tied around his neck. "I can fly," he proudly announced, running to his father, picking himself up as he tripped on a couch cushion that was strewn on the floor.

"My uncle called," Coop nervously explained. "He said that you might not be able to reach him this afternoon. And your sister-in-law."

"More than once, I take it?" Scully asked upon seeing the patch of red crawl up Coop's face.

"Three times," the law student admitted. "I won't repeat what she exactly said."

"Fuck," Will pronounced casually, as he grasped his mother's neck.

"Speaker phone, huh?" Mulder added, grateful that he wouldn't be blamed for Will's bad language, at least not this time.

"Rookie mistake," Scully smiled as she led the boys into the kitchen for lunch.

"Sorry about the mess," Coop stammered as he and Mulder began to pick up the living room.

"Totally worth it," Mulder said. "We really appreciate that you and Elisabeth have been helping out."

The noise of the doorbell caught Mulder off guard. He made his way to the front door, relieved to see his partner standing on the stoop. "I'm sorry," Mulder groaned, letting in Addison. "I just got home myself, I swear."

Addison gave Mulder an annoyed look. "Sign these, now," he said as he thrusted a stack of papers in Mulder's direction. "Plus I need the requisition forms you told me you were going to work on yesterday afternoon. The clock is ticking."

Mulder rolled his eyes, knowing that Addision wasn't nearly as miffed as he sounded. "What the fuck happened in here?" Addison asked upon peeking his head into the living room.

"Life," Mulder responded as they walked into the office. "It's been a little hectic. Coffee?"

Addison nodded, flopping down on the couch, taking in the decor as he waited for Mulder to return. He had first met Mulder nearly fifteen years earlier; both of them were different people back then, much more boys rather than men, comparatively speaking. They had both married young, but had practically signed their divorce certificates once they had entered Patterson's tutelage. They had bonded during the brutal hours, able to relate to one another's familial pressures while on the job. They hit a crossroads around the time of the Monty Props case. Mulder chose the Bureau not so much because of his work ethic, but because he needed the distraction after Diana moved to New York with his son; upon witnessing this unfold, Addison made a different decision, deciding to climb the administrative ladder, which took him out to Chicago.

Over the intervening years, Addison had heard stories of Spooky Mulder and the X-Files, taking the gossip with more than a grain of salt. He and Mulder would speak from time to time, but always about a case. When Addison found himself back at headquarters, nursing his wounds from a crushing divorce, he leapt at the chance for anything familiar—which led to his partnership with his old friend. He was prepared for a sarcastic and sardonic sidekick who would hit the bar hard as soon as the clock hit five. Instead, he ended up with witty colleague who punched out no later than six, and whose brilliant ramblings were more streamlined than ever. The only real similarity between the two Mulders was the abhorrence for paperwork.

Most of all, Addison was curious about this partner-turned-wife of Mulder's, whose name he said rarely, but with reverence. He had spoken with her only a handful of times, and found her to be polite but distant—cool but not cold enough to validate her ice queen moniker. Nearly two months in, and he couldn't make heads or tails of Mulder's home life, and while he was annoyed that Mulder had once again stuck him with overdue paperwork duty, he wanted to take advantage of the rare opportunity to gain some insight into his partner's home life.

He gazed at the photos lining the opposite wall, a couple of which he recognized from Mulder's desk at the office. All three boys bared a strong resemblance to their father, and judging from the noise echoing down the hall, they were just as loud as him. "There were some developments on the Larsen case," Addison began as he accepted a mug of coffee from his partner. "We might get approval to go out to Ohio if the—"

He became distracted by a flash of toddler running past him. "Sorry," Mulder apologized. "Nathan, you need to—"

"No," Nathan sternly replied, pouting, holding Doggy by the ear.

"Is he the sick one?" Addison asked.

Mulder shook his head. "He's pretty tired," Mulder said, picking up his son and sitting down at his desk, with the two-year-old in his lap. "He'll be out like a light in a few minutes."

"Down," Nathan whined, pointing, prompting Mulder to set him on the floor.

"He likes to sleep under the desk sometimes," Mulder explained, motioning for Addison hand him the blanket on the back of the couch before covering Nathan and Doggy at his feet.

"Dad, can Coop explain the legal ramifications of what might happen at the trial?" Kyle bellowed, looking surprised at the figure on the couch. "I told him you told me about it, but he doesn't believe me."

"Yes, Coop, explain to Kyle how his uncle is an idiot, by all means," Mulder responded, waving to Coop who poked his head into the office. "But not so loudly as to wake up either Nathan or Will."

"Nathan's with Dad," he heard Kyle explain to Scully in the hallway.

Addison scratched the top of his head. "It's a goddamned circus in here," he whistled. No wonder Mulder's wife asked him to stay home.

"Sorry for all the interruptions," Scully said at the doorway, a sleepy Will in her arms. "Do you want me to take Nathan upstairs?"

"He's fine here," Mulder said as though he were transfixed, waving to his youngest son.

"It's nice to finally meet you," she gave Addison a small smile. "I'll let you get back to work."

Addison couldn't help but notice how Mulder's entire demeanor changed as she appeared and disappeared from his line of sight. He had never seen his partner like that with anyone before, Diana included.

By the time he left an hour later, Addison _almost_ felt badly about dropping by his partner's home unannounced. What he definitely felt guilty for, however, was for something he had done a month earlier. The Monday after their kidnapping case in California wrapped up, a battered box had appeared on his desk, with a short note from the ASAC in the San Francisco office. Mulder's family had sent him a care package. Nearly six weeks later, Addison was unsure whether his motive was jealousy or suspicion, but he had made the impulsive decision to read the note written by Dana Scully. After reading it twice through, Addison had immediately felt dirty. It wasn't as though the contents of the note were inappropriate in anyway; it was just so honest, so intimate, so personal, that he had felt like a voyeur. There were many times in which Addison had almost convinced himself to return the note to its intended recipient, but he felt that would raise more questions than answers. Now, having witnessed Fox Mulder glimpse at Dana Scully, Addison understood it enough that he knew how much they valued their privacy.

And so the note remained folded in quarters, sitting in Addison's interior suit pocket.

XXXXXX

Dana Scully would be forever grateful to Coop—whatever mischief he and the boys had gotten themselves into that morning had resulted in both toddlers taking sound naps when she desperately needed the peace and quiet. While Coop was explaining the intricacies of trial law to Kyle in the kitchen, and Mulder was holed up in his office with his partner, Scully cleaned up the living room, thankful for the time to think.

When the phone rang, she instinctively knew it would once again be her sister-in-law, and put Coop out of his misery by picking the phone up herself. "What the fuck happened, Dana?" Karen brusquely clipped.

"I don't know, Karen," Scully answered tiredly, climbing the stairs in order to retreat into her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

"Do you think someone made him say it?" Karen asked.

"I don't know," Scully said; the thought had crossed her mind earlier, but at this point, she didn't have enough information to even consider it a theory.

"Did you see that thing he did with his left arm, right before he said it?"

"Karen, I didn't watch coverage this morning."

"But Charlie told me that you promised," Karen spat. "It meant a lot to him—he'll be crushed when he finds out."

"We had to bring Kyle to the doctor this morning," Scully interrupted flatly. She was tired; as much as she didn't want to share this information with Karen, she also didn't want to brace for a battle that didn't need to be fought. "He—yesterday—"

"Dana? Dana?"

She hadn't expected to break down, not while she was on the phone with the sister-in-law she loved dearly but could barely tolerate.

"What happened?" Karen lowered her voice once she remembered that Dana was the opposite of her brother in that yelling, instead of pulling her into a conversation, would repel her. "Please, tell me."

"He just hit a wall," Scully managed to convey, sitting on the loveseat by the fireplace, tucking her knees under chin. "He was stressed out, and came home from school, and just fell apart. Karen, it was one of the worst things I have ever seen. Mulder camped out in his room last night, he was just so…vulnerable."

"Is he okay now?"

"He seems to be doing a lot better," Scully shared. "The three of us went to see his psychologist this morning."

"Do you know what prompted it? School?"

The hesitation in Scully's voice did not go unnoticed by Karen. "The trial, mostly," Scully honestly said after regaining her footing. "He talked to Charlie about it over the weekend, and he's been upset that Mulder and I haven't been discussing it with him."

"I'm sure Charlie gave him an earful," Karen despondently admitted. Maybe it was because their seven-year-old was a near-genius, but she knew that her husband sometimes had no barometer for what subject matter was appropriate for children.

"I didn't know how much this had been weighing on him," Scully continued. "I feel horrible."

"Dana, it's okay," responded Karen. "Parenting is fluid. What is appropriate in one context may not be appropriate in another; you and Mulder are the best judge for what your kids can handle, and that sometimes changes on a near daily basis. I need to go and check on Noah's mittens. All I can say is don't knock it 'til you've tried it. This chicken pox nonsense is hell on earth."

Scully held back a laugh as she turned got up off her perch to place the phone on its base, nearly jumping out of her skin when she realized that Mulder had entered the room. A fresh flood of tears overwhelmed her as he embraced her. "We're all going to be okay, I promise," Mulder whispered as he smoothed down her hair, guiding her to the bed.

"I—I didn't mean to hurt him, Mulder," Scully managed to say between sobs. "The last thing I wanted was to hurt him."

"You didn't mean it, Scully. And neither of us knew, or even expected. We should have been more aware, yes, but it's a two-way street," Mulder softly explained. "You've done so much for him, Scully. Not just today, but you're the one who has been here for him every day. I've been the absent one, not you. But you know what, Scully? We realized there was a problem, and we addressed it head on. And now we have our great kid back. He's animated, and funny, and he's going to be driving us crazy again in a few hours. And we'll know for next time."

His grip on her tightened as she continued to sob, fighting back the tears that pricked in his own eyes.

XXXXX

A few hours later, Scully groaned when the doorbell chimed. "Hi Chloe," she smiled through her exhaustion as she opened the front door. "Come on in. You must be Chloe's dad?"

"That's what I've been told," quipped the dark-haired man. "I'm Hank Gibson. Chloe has some homework for Kyle."

"Come on in, I'm sure that Kyle would like to see a friend," Scully said without thinking. "He's in the kitchen, Chloe. Go right in."

"She figured he probably wasn't sick. I should be upfront about the fact that we're aware of the trial," Hank explained. "I'm with the NSA, so it would be embarrassing if that one slipped by me."

Scully nodded. "You probably know more than I do," said Scully off-handedly. "He should be back at school tomorrow."

A clatter of noise echoed down the stairs, causing Hank to startle. "I heard there were younger brothers, but how many of them are there?"

"Two," she laughed. "They multiply during bath time though. Chloe told me that she's going to be a big sister soon."

"December," beamed Hank. "My fiancee is due on the first. We're all excited. How is it with the age difference, if you don't mind me asking? Stella and I don't know how much longer her enthusiasm will hold."

"He alternates between ignoring them completely and complaining about them incessantly," Scully answered. "When he thinks we're not looking, he'll read a story or play a game with them."

"Cold war politics," Hank sighed, looking at his watch. "Let's go, Chloe. We need to pick up Stella."

Chloe ran back into the hallway, with Bandit in her arms. "Can we get a puppy, please? You get a baby and I get a puppy?"

Hank rolled his eyes. "We get a baby and you get a brother. Win-win situation, problem solved," he droned. "Bye guys."

XXXXX

"I know it's been a long day," Mulder crept up behind Scully as she was cleaning up the kitchen. He had just put Nathan and Will to bed, and made sure Kyle was busy with his homework in the other room. "But Andy Dearborn is coming by in a few minutes."

"The guy you know from Justice?" Scully asked, a little confused. "What's going on?"

"I think he might have some news about what your brother said earlier," Mulder sighed. "And I think there was something else. I was supposed to meet him last night—he wanted to talk in person. I just got off the phone with him, and he wants to speak with both of us."

"I guess that means I better get the coffee on," Scully groaned.

A half-hour later, they were settled, along with Andy, in the living room. After sipping his coffee, Andy said, "Thanks for letting me interrupt your evening. I'm here for a couple of different reasons. One, we weren't expecting your brother to make accusations against your father while on the stand. This wasn't addressed in any of our trial prep, and I haven't had any access to him today. One of my colleagues has been in conference with him and his attorney, but I don't know his state of mind."

"How is this going to affect the trial?" Scully asked.

"The judge granted a 48 hour recess for both sides to investigate this claim. This question was raised during our initial investigation, but basically the defense team can take this and run with it. It won't speak to the heart of the case, since this has nothing to do with the defendant's innocence or guilt, but it does add some media frenzy, and for lack of a better term, a side circus. There is some speculation that Charlie did this on purpose, but to what end, I don't know. Maybe someone approached your brother at the hotel last night, maybe this was something he planned from the beginning. Your guess is as good as mine."

"What's the other item?" Mulder asked, cutting to the chase.

Dearborn looked down at the floor for a few seconds before answering. "We were able to stop it this time, but I don't know if we'll be able to block it a second," he prefaced. "Someone leaked the story that you wrote the original profile to the press."

"But you stopped it?"

"We stopped this story from running. But the defense team is now aware of your involvement, Mulder, and I don't know what they'll do what that information. They filed a motion to introduce it as evidence last night. The judge is going to rule on it in two days."

**A/N: Thanks for reading! I very much appreciate your reviews and encouragement.**


	35. Chapter Thirty Four

**Note: My apologies that this chapter is a bit shorter than usual. Happy reading all the same!**

"We need to talk to him," Scully said quietly as Mulder returned to the living room; he had just walked Dearborn out to his car. While waiting for his return, she remained standing, pacing in front of the unlit fireplace, unable to keep still. While she had been exhausted before Dearborn's visit, she had since become a bundle of nervous energy. "Now."

"I'll try Preston's cell again," offered Mulder calmly, as he tried to get a read on the emotions simmering beneath his partner's blank face.

"No," Scully shook her head. "Not Preston. Kyle. He needs to hear about this from us, now."

"Should we wait for more information, Scull?" Mulder asked, placing his hands on her shoulders, his eyes searching hers. "I don't want to unnecessarily worry him."

"Normally, I would agree with you, Mulder, but we aren't going to find out much more before he goes to school tomorrow. And if he learns about any of this from his friends, or from the car radio during his carpool ride back from school, it will undo everything we accomplished today," Scully pointed out, keeping her voice low. "And it would probably send us several steps backwards. We have to think about the tradeoff, Mulder. It's not an ideal situation by any means, but I think this option carries the least amount of risk."

Mulder nodded—she certainly had a point. "You're absolutely right," he conceded. "But shouldn't we talk through this ourselves, alone, first?"

Scully felt trapped. "There's no time, Mulder. It's almost ten," she mumbled.

"Only if you promise that we talk as soon as we're finished with him," Mulder persisted.

"Fine," Scully shrugged, stepping towards the kitchen.

"I mean it, Scully," Mulder practically hissed, clasping her arm and tugging her towards him. "Just don't shut me out, okay?"

"I promise," she said quietly, her eyes downcast. She was too exhausted to do anything but agree.

XXXXXXXX

Usually, when he knew something was happening, Kyle would do whatever he could to get more information—listening outside doors and around corners, snooping through desk drawers, and asking lots of questions. He had spent the majority of his day doing just that—pumping Coop for information about trial procedure, and listening intently whenever he heard the phone ring, and the inevitable hushed conversation that followed.

What made this all the more difficult for Kyle was the fact that his father knew exactly as to what lengths he would act to satisfy his curiosity. Since their move to DC, it was not uncommon for his father to take a call on the kitchen cordless extension and then wander into his office, preventing him from eavesdropping on the other line.

So when the phone rang while his father was upstairs putting his brothers to bed and his stepmother was in the laundry room, Kyle seized the moment and grabbed the kitchen phone and ducked into the living room. His interest piqued when he heard his father's friend invite himself over; however, a funny feeling settled into his stomach when he heard his father's response. It wasn't so much what his father had said, but the sigh that accompanied his words. Over the past several months, Kyle had witnessed his father experience a wide range of emotions, and he knew, without a doubt, the involuntary click of his father's tongue that preceded his agreement to the meeting signaled one thing.

Defeat.

And that meant something was _really _wrong.

Although he couldn't see his father's face at that moment, he knew that his father was probably scowling, biting his lip in an attempt to control his anger. If he were on the receiving end, Kyle knew that this was the precursor to his punishment, the last thing he would see before being sent to his room. So Kyle proceeded with caution, placing the phone on the coffee table and then making sure that by the time he heard his father walking down the stairs, he was sprawled out on the couch, remote in hand. After realizing he could barely hear the adults' conversation, Kyle made his way back to the kitchen, making a beeline for the homework that sat on the table.

He snuck looks at his father and stepmother every time he turned the page of his science textbook. They both looked tense and tired; while Dana was drying the plastic tumblers that she never put in the dishwasher (a rule which his father broke whenever she was out of the house), his father kept kneading her shoulders. They were swaying ever so slightly; his father moving forward and Dana moving backward. Kyle still felt slightly uncomfortable when he saw them touch; it didn't even have anything to do with the fact he had walked in on them doing much more than that just a few weeks earlier. Instead, he felt as though he were interrupting a conversation they weren't verbalizing. If it had been a few weeks earlier, Kyle would probably have left the room, but strangely enough, now, it felt…normal.

So while the adults were speaking in the next room, Kyle surprised himself by not trying to overtly eavesdrop. He didn't want to exploit the situation, and risk his father's wrath. The practical part of him knew that if the subject matter were really juicy, they would be holding their discussion in the office, instead of just a few feet away from him. He stayed at the table even after finishing up his homework, not wanting to miss out on any new bits of information. Even after he heard their guest leave, Kyle stayed in his seat, pretending to read, Bandit sleeping on his lap.

Although he figured that his father would tell him something about their meeting, even if it were just to avoid an accusation of not following Dr. Meadows' suggestions regarding familial communication. What he wasn't expecting was to sit down in the living room, across from his father and stepmother, and be told many confusing things. By the time they were done, Kyle once again felt that strange twinge at the bottom of his stomach, and although he wouldn't admit it right then and there, he was beginning to understand why his father had been so reluctant to tell him about everything that had been happening.

XXXXXX

Mulder took it as a good sign that Scully was sitting so closely to him, their hips practically touching. He involuntarily stretched to squeeze her knee, and he felt her hands clasp his arm in return. "Bud," he began, scratching his five o'clock shadow as he looked at his oldest son. "There's some stuff going on. We don't quite know what's happening with it, but we want to start talking about it now."

"Okay," Kyle mumbled as he furiously pet Bandit.

"You already know that Charlie said some things during his testimony that no one was expecting," began Mulder.

"He said that his dad paid off the cops," Kyle responded, glancing at his stepmother to see if she had any visible reaction to the claim.

"Right," Mulder continued, tightening his grip on Scully's knee. "And that wasn't something that was part of the case."

"Coop said things like that don't usually happen in real-life, just in the movies," offered Kyle. "But that crazy stuff always happens to our family, so the regular rules never apply."

Mulder cracked a smile. "That might be true, but we're going to talk about something else that's going on, the reason why Andy stopped by earlier. We talked a little bit about this over the summer, but I worked on a project for the Department of Justice last winter. They asked me to review a cold case file."

"Dana told me that you are the best person to work on cold cases," Kyle interrupted. "She said you see things that no one else does."

Mulder leaned over to get a better look at his partner, who managed to give him a small smile. "I don't know about that," responded Mulder shyly.

"You are," Scully mouthed, leaning further into his side.

After losing himself in thought for a moment, Mulder turned back to his son. "So when I worked on Bill's case, they didn't give me all the information they have. Based on the file, I gave them my opinion of what happened, and that information helped them identify a suspect and arrest him."

"That's good, isn't it?" Kyle asked, bewildered.

"It's very good," quickly agreed Scully. "That's what is supposed to happen."

"Kyle, the tricky part is that Bill's name wasn't anywhere in the documentation I read. Family members aren't supposed to work on each other's cases. When they figured out the relationship, they decided not to use what I worked on as evidence," struggled Mulder. "But someone figured it out, and it's probably going to be on the news."

"But it's just a coincidence, right?" Kyle asked with a small voice. Once he saw his father nod, he continued. "Are you in trouble?"

"No," Scully forcefully answered. "Your dad isn't in trouble. He did his job, he did exactly what he was supposed to do. But reporters like stories that sound like soap operas."

"I promise you I won't get in trouble," Mulder promised. "But the story, if it does get on the news, is probably going to be an annoyance for a bit."

"Do I still have to go to school?" Kyle's voice sounded hopeful.

"Yes," Mulder firmly replied. "But if anybody asks you about this, just say you don't know, okay? I don't want you to get caught up in all of this. But this is the important thing, Kyle. You need to tell me when this gets too much. You are a kid, and you shouldn't be worried about adult things. So if you see something on TV, or hear something on the radio when you are in a car, remember that it might not be true. Your only job is to tell me and Dana when you are worried or upset or have a question. Promise me."

"Okay," Kyle nodded, locking eyes with his father. "I promise."

XXXXXXXX

"Do you think it was too much for him?" Mulder asked Scully as she began to run the hot water in their shower.

Scully didn't immediately answer, thinking about Mulder's question. "I don't know," she truthfully said as she tossed her dirty laundry into the hamper before entering the shower. Once she felt Mulder step in behind her, she continued. "It is a lot for anyone. It's a lot for us," she reasoned. "But I would hate to think about what would happen if we risked not saying anything, just so he ends up getting blindsided later."

"Scully, you promised," Mulder whispered in to her ear as he grabbed a bar of soap from the shower caddy. "Talk to me."

She closed her eyes, trying to soak up the hot water pounding on her back, inhaling the faint scent of vanilla. As soon as Mulder's hands began to work their magic on her upper back and shoulders, she let out a soft moan, which on its own, pulled them closer to one another. "I have to let it go," she softly said.

"What?" Mulder mumbled into her ear, grazing his lips on her neck. Under normal circumstances, Scully would have accused him of playing dirty, and rightly so; any combination of hot water, an attentive partner, and no distractions were grounds for seduction 101 in their household. He just hit the trifecta, and it was taking every ounce of self control for him to focus and extract whatever thoughts she could verbalize first.

She reached for her loofah, soaking it with some body wash. Mulder deftly took the sponge from her, soaping her sides before slowly tracing circles on her abdomen. "What?" he repeated.

"It's out of our hands, Mulder. I have to trust that Charlie knows what he's doing. But my real concern is you," Scully said. "You are going to be raked through the coals, and it's not fair. You were doing your job, and I hate that it's my family that is the cause of all of this. We can't undo decisions that were made over twenty years ago, and I can't bear to watch your integrity be questioned by anyone, much less the media."

"But what about—?" He gasped as Scully took the loofah, stroking him. Now _she_ could be accused of playing dirty. Before he could make his next move, he heard the voice of someone who was most definitely not supposed to be awake.

"I hungry!"

"Jesus," Mulder cursed, taken aback by Nathan's presence, banging his head against the tiled wall, as Scully poked her head around the shower curtain.

"Monkey, what's wrong?" Scully asked, a shot of adrenaline coursing through her veins, relieved to see that Nathan was not visibly hurt or upset. "Did you have a bad dream?"

"I want cookies," whined Nathan, holding Woofy by the ear, rubbing his eyes.

"Go in the other room, monkey," Scully instructed. "We'll be right out."

"I'm going to need a minute," Mulder mumbled, the frustration apparent in his voice, as Scully stepped out of the shower, and into mommy mode.

XXXXXXXX

It took a drink of water, some animal crackers, and two stories to get Nathan back to sleep and settled into his own bed. "I don't even want to think about what else he could have walked in on," Mulder groaned as Scully crawled under the duvet. "At least he couldn't see anything."

"Once Will's out of his crib, we'll have to be even more careful," Scully sleepily answered, lying on her side so she was face-to-face with Mulder. "But I did remember to lock the door."

Mulder let out a small moan as she kissed him, slipping her tongue in his mouth as she pushed him onto his back. Mulder held her tightly, cradling her between his thighs. When the phone rang, it was Scully who swore, dropping her head on his chest in defeat. Winded, Mulder fumbled for the phone. "Yeah?" he barked. "Okay. No, that's fine. Thanks."

"Who was that?" Scully mumbled, still sprawled across Mulder's chest.

"Preston," answered Mulder. "He'll be over first thing tomorrow morning. He wants us to look at some tape of Charlie's testimony, and see if we can tell if anything is off with his body language."

"What time?"

"Six-thirty," sighed Mulder. "He's due in court by nine."

He glanced at the clock, watching the time flip to 12:09; by the time he fiddled with the alarm, he looked down, realizing that his partner was fast asleep. He carefully reached out to pull the duvet over the both of them. Although he was disappointed at the prospect of another day without any sex, he knew that she needed a few solid hours of sleep. They both did, really. He tightened his hold on her as he finally began to drift off himself.

When he was awoken a few hours later by Will's cries, he was pleasantly surprised to see that Scully hadn't moved in her sleep. Usually they were both side sleepers, so he was out of practice in figuring out the best way to climb out of bed from under her without disturbing her slumber. Over the past several months, she had developed a sixth sense for picking up the sounds of upset children, so Mulder was quick to turn off the baby monitor before Will could wake her.

Ordinarily, Mulder could get away with five hours of sleep, but after the events over the past few days, it certainly wasn't enough. He groggily approached Will's crib, folding his forearms on the rail, settling his chin on top of them. "What's the matter, slugger?" he croaked, eye-level with his wide-eyed youngest son, who was furiously motioning to be picked up. "Tired of being in jail?"

Will finally quieted down after he was freshly diapered, giving Mulder the headspace to figure out their next move. There wasn't enough time to go out for a run, and while his instinct was to climb back into bed with the baby, he wanted Scully to get as much sleep as possible. Once they reached the first floor, Will pointed to the door, garbling 'bye-bye.' "Let's compromise, buddy," suggested Mulder as he settled him into the jogging stroller, pointing in the direction of Scully's favorite coffee shop. He purchased some whole beans of her favorite blend and some donuts, and by the time they left, Will's face had settled into a sticky smile. At least someone would be in a good mood that morning.

XXXXXXXX

"Why do they get donuts and not me?" Kyle yelled. "It's not fair!"

"I miscounted," Mulder grumbled, regretting the fact that he left the house that morning. "It wasn't intentional, Kyle. I can get more tomorrow."

In his sleepy haze, he had forgotten Will had eaten his donut during their walk, and once he and Nathan were situated at the kitchen table, Mulder had gone into auto pilot mode, handing the two remaining treats to the two boys. It wasn't until Kyle finally showed up to breakfast, asking for his, that Mulder realized he had messed up.

"I hate everybody," Kyle grumbled, pushing away the box of cereal so forcefully that it was knocked off the table.

"Kyle," Mulder snapped.

"I didn't mean for that to happen!" Kyle cried out, upset, as Bandit began eating the spilled bits of Raisin Bran off the floor.

Mulder breathed a sigh of thanks when he heard the doorbell ring, grateful for the respite from the chaos. Preston winced as soon as he entered the house. "It's a tough crowd this morning. I managed to mess up breakfast," Mulder explained, leading the way into the kitchen, where they were greeted by three children yelling and one dog barking. "I thought I would let Scully sleep in."

Preston gave Mulder a suspicious look. "Did it work?" he asked.

"It never does," Scully answered as she climbed down the stairs, prompting both men to turn around.

"But it's the thought that counts," quipped Mulder, giving her a kiss. "Let's get this over with."

A few moments later, they were standing in front of the television, watching a short clip of Charlie's testimony. "Charlie gave me permission to speak with you, which is the only reason why we are having this conversation," Preston said as he rewound the video. "He asked me to tell you both that you would know what he meant."

"When can I speak with him?" Scully asked, playing with the gold cross necklace that hung around her neck

Preston hesitated. "I want to wait for the judge to make his ruling first. I'm sorry, Dana—I know you are both close with him. As his attorney, I need to advise him to protect himself to the fullest extent possible. And to be perfectly frank, I don't think he wants to discuss this with anyone—it's his way of shielding you, but from what, I can't say."

Scully nodded, swallowing hard as Mulder squeezed her shoulder. "When I spoke with Karen yesterday, she said that Charlie did something funny with his left arm," Scully said.

"That's what I wanted your opinion on," Preston replied, waiting until Scully nodded before pressing play.

The first time they watched the clip, Scully tried to pay attention to the words her brother used, hoping that his choice of language would provide a clue, insight into at least something that would help explain his actions. "He's talking like he's in a movie of some sort," she said. "It doesn't sound like him. He's a talker, don't get me wrong, but what he's saying doesn't sound like something he would say in conversation. It's too formal."

"It's like someone scripted it for him," Mulder agreed, trying to piece together the puzzles in his own mind.

"What about his body language?" prompted Preston. "The way he moves his left arm in the third frame is never repeated. I had one of my guys go through tape from earlier this week, and it's not something that Charlie ever did at another time he was on the stand."

Muting the television, Preston played the tape in slow motion. Sure enough, Charlie had twisted his left arm at a strange angle a couple of beats before voicing his allegations that his father paid off the investigators. "I need to see it again," Mulder requested.

After the third go-around, Mulder asked, "Where are the doors in the courtroom?"

"What are you thinking, Mulder?" Scully asked after Preston explained the layout.

"I need this area enhanced," Mulder said, tracing a circle where Charlie's left arm met his right hand five seconds before he made his accusation. "I think that this is key. He looks to the left suddenly five seconds before this, and then he gets off-track five seconds later. As though he saw someone, and that was his clue to say what he did."

"Keep the tape," Preston said. "I wish I could be of more help, but this is an ethically murky area for me to be right now."

"Dad, we need to go!" bellowed Kyle from the kitchen.

"Feel like taking one with you?" Mulder called out to Preston as the older man headed towards the front door, bellowing a resounding 'no' on the way.

He turned to Scully and said, "If I don't show up to work I think Addison is going to lose his mind. I can drop the tape off to Langley and Byers on my way, and stop by there on my way home. I'm assuming I'll be hearing from Kersh's office too, so I don't know how reachable I'll be."

Scully nodded. "I guess I should read up on trial coverage," she sighed, pouring herself more coffee. When she looked up, she noticed the confused look on Mulder's face.

"How else will we be able to answer Kyle's questions?" she asked quietly, her eyes flickering towards her stepson, who was swinging his backpack around, probably because he knew it drove them both crazy.

"Are you sure you're up for it?" Mulder asked, looking up long enough to tell Kyle to knock it off.

"I'll be fine," Scully said.

They were interrupted by a sharp cry from Nathan, who, oblivious to his brother's antics, had gotten smacked on the back of his head with the schoolbag.

"I didn't mean it!" cried Kyle defensively, looking stunned that he had hurt his younger brother.

"It was just an accident," Scully calmly agreed, scooping Nathan up in her arms, kissing his brow. "You guys better get going."

Mulder nodded, fussing over Nathan before practically tripping over the puppy, who was running in circles around Scully, clearly bewildered by the chaos. "Can you say bye-bye to Daddy and Kyle?" Scully asked Nathan soothingly, before the boy burst into a new set of tears upon his seeing his father leave.

"I really didn't mean it," Kyle apologized to his father as they got into the car.

"I know," Mulder muttered. "You just need to be more careful around your brothers, that's it."

XXXXXXXX

It took a long time for Scully to calm down Nathan, but once she settled down on the floor with him and Will, Bandit bounded over to them, cheering up the two-year-old instantly. "Bandit's giving you puppy licks. That makes it all better, huh?" Scully said to him. "And look, Will gets puppy licks too."

She sat back, resting her head on the couch cushions for a moment, wondering about the chances of both boys taking naps at the same time that day. Given her recent luck, she wasn't holding out for that to happen. In any case, she usually didn't mind when they ended up falling asleep at different times, as it gave her the opportunity to play with them one-on-one. She stretched out a bit, smiling as she saw the boys play with the dog. While her own feelings about the trial seemed to change with every new accusation, bizarre twist, or turn, her priority was always the family she and Mulder had created. While she personally had no interest in anything involving her older brother, she knew now she needed to make a point to find out what was being said in the media—their trip to Dr. Meadow's office the previous day had certainly made that abundantly clear.

As she watched the boys and the puppy chase one another around the room, she allowed herself to think about what things might be like if her father were still alive. She had similar thoughts before, but only allowed herself to daydream about them for a little bit at a time; it was too painful otherwise. Over the years, she had determined that her father would have, on the whole, definitely approved of Mulder, although would probably have minimal patience for some of his quirks. More recently, she also determined that the Captain would have been proud of all of his grandsons, Kyle included. She would have liked to have thought that he would be on the floor with them now, racing trains and building block towers with the toddlers, but she also thought it would have been just as likely that he wouldn't, instead preferring activities more appropriate for older kids—museum trips, fishing, hikes. But, she never would know for certain.

Months before, she had told Mulder that she wasn't sure whether she would be able to handle seeing her father's integrity called into question on a public scale. It was no longer a hypothetical—it was happening right now, and she would most definitely have to cope with that very scenario.

As she packed the kids up to take a trip to the park, she thought back on the previous weekend, when she and Charlie had watched Nathan navigate the jungle gym, searching for any clues that her brother may have left that would have indicated his rather dramatic announcement on the stand. He had chastised her for not going through the records that Preston's office had received from Bill's defense team, and had hinted that he believed their father's actions were for the greater good, whatever that might have been.

She was a student of logic and rationalization. While her heart wanted her to defend her father to anyone who would listen, she was reminded again and again that she had no proof of his integrity except her memories about the words that he had taught her and the actions she had witnessed—and the physical evidence that disproved her claim was mounting. But if she had learned anything over the past few months, it was that she had control over some things, and she needed to let go of everything else. She had wasted enough time over the past few years on other people's agendas. Her priority needed to be protecting the children…and Mulder.

Her heart had sunk when she had learned that word of Mulder's profile had leaked. While he had always downplayed his professional success, she knew that he was incredibly proud of the fact that he found clues and could see theories which no one else had noticed. He seemed to have been settling in with his new assignment since their return to DC, and she abhorred the fact that his reputation was being jepoardized by a case connected to her family.

As they entered the park, she let go of her thoughts, turning her attention to something much more important: the boys, who were impatiently waiting to be unstrapped from their stroller, eager to have some fun.

XXXXXXXX

As expected, Mulder spent the bulk of the day trapped in meetings. While that would normally have bored him to tears, he was immensely grateful for any opportunity to be distracted from the shitstorm surrounding the trial. Surprisingly, no one had mentioned it in his presence; whenever he turned corners through the long hallways of the Hoover Building, there were no groups of people who suddenly broke apart with guilty faces, or conversations that dissolved into harsh whispers as he waited for the elevator or poured himself more coffee.

When he was called into Kersh's office right after lunch, he was hoping that the message would be to lie low and keep a low profile. Instead, he was delivered an apology, and not just by Kersh; there were representatives from Justice gathered, as well as Senator Mathison himself, all seated around the conference room table. Instinctively, Mulder knew that their next move would be to ask a favor of him.

Instead, they promoted him.

Yes, it was opportunistic of the Bureau and Justice, but their proposal also had the potential to create a lot of good. The agencies were committing six months of funding to a new task force, to be led by Mulder, that would take a second look at juvenile disappearances and murders gone unsolved by local departments, and take a fresh look at other cold cases. Instead of sweeping Mulder into the corner until his brother-in-law's trial was over, they were going to keep him front and center, as the newly re-minted golden boy.

Mulder was no fool, and knew that Mathison was pulling the puppet strings, but for once, he wasn't about to protest. The Senator even quietly hinted that this was not the Bureau's way of shutting down the X-Files; he even apologized for the fact that the January timetable would be pushed to an April start.

After he was dismissed, and told to go home early to get ahead start on the weekend, Mulder wasn't quite sure what to do. He called Scully from the car, filling her in on the news. She sounded excited—enthusiastic even—and since he couldn't overhear any shrieking, yelling, or other signs of the apocalypse over the phone, he headed to the Gunmen, hoping that they were having luck with ehancing the video footage.

"I hear congratulations are in order, man," Langley grinned, shaking his hand before slipping him a beer. "I heard chatter about this a few weeks ago, since your case in California. Bet you didn't think I could keep such a secret, huh?"

Mulder could feel his face growing red, shrugging off his friend's praise. "Anything juicy happening that I should know about?"

"The less you know about Janet Reno's vacation the better, man," Langley responded in a tone that left Mulder bewildered as to whether or not his friend was joking. "But I think I was able to help you out with the footage."

Both men took a seat in front of the largest monitor on the workbench. Langley described how he had extracted the still, and explained a bit about the backend process—too much so in Mulder's opinion—before finally unveiling it.

Mulder let out a whistle once he saw the photo. "And based on the footage, you think that Charlie could possibly have been looking at the set of doors in the back left of the room?" Mulder asked, getting up from his seat.

"Yeah, Mulder, what is it? Was this helpful?"

"More than you know, buddy," Mulder said, taking one last swig of his beer.

"So what do you think?"

Mulder scribbled something down on a post-it note. "Track the movements of this person over the past three days," he requested. "You might not find anything on the books."

"When you say things like that, Muldy, it just makes me want to find stuff all the more," Langley called out as Mulder ran out the door.

XXXXXXXX

Mulder had to admit that he found it hot when, upon his arrival home, Scully pulled him into the laundry room for a searing kiss, whispering her congratulations. For a moment, he regretted not coming directly home from work, but the sheer amount of noise filtering through the kitchen brought him back to his senses. "Kyle has friends over," she explained as she sat herself on top of the dryer. "We're making tacos for dinner."

"Ole," Mulder quipped, pressing his forehead against hers as he caught his breath.

"Did Langley find anything?" Scully asked, massaging Mulder's neck.

"I think I know who may have put your brother up to this," Mulder answered, thinking back to the crude motion he saw Charlie display in the photo—one that he had only seen his brother-in-law use once before, in conjunction with a wildly inappropriate question he had posed to Mulder that evening they spent in Manhattan the previous July.

The night he had introduced Charlie to Marita Covarrubias.

But before he could continue, they were interrupted by a chorus of yells from the next room. "At least we got a whole two minutes," Scully wryly said as she hopped off the dryer and led the way into the kitchen, giving her partner a wink that confirmed his suspicions that their dry spell would soon be over.

"Nathan, no!"

Mulder groaned, wondering what the toddler could have gotten himself into—if Kyle was so worked up, it must have been naughty enough for the eleven-year-old to feel responsible. As he turned the corner, he caught a glimpse of Nathan in the air before hearing a sickening _thud_ on the wood floor, followed by silence.

"I didn't know he was going to jump!" Kyle wailed, distraught. "He climbed up on the counter."

"Out of the room, now!" Mulder barked, covering Will's eyes and handing him to two girls who were staring at Nathan's limp body, shaking. He wasn't sure whether he had ever spoken like that in the kids' presence, and it didn't hit him until later that he must have sounded terrifying, as one of the girls burst into tears when she made eye contact with him, scampering into the next room as quickly as possible, dragging Will behind her.

"Get that fucking dog out of here, too!" Bandit was going crazy, sniffing Nathan's legs, and Mulder forcefully tugged the dog back by his collar, practically throwing him into the hallway. He could hear Kyle cry out in protest, but he didn't much think about it in that moment.

"Nathan, Nathan, wake up buddy," Mulder repeated, trying to ignore the small pool of blood near his son's head, ignoring the waves of nausea churning in his stomach. He fought his paternal instinct to pick up the boy, instead looking to Scully for guidance.

"He's unconscious but breathing, Mulder," she told him with a small sigh of relief. "But we need to get an ambulance. Now."


	36. Chapter Thirty Five

A/N I apologize for the delay in posting! I really appreciate everyone's reviews-happy reading!

XXXXX

The three minutes between dialing 911 and Nathan opening his eyes were the scariest of Scully's life.

During those 180 seconds, she practically babbled, concentrating on her speech as a way to keep herself calm. "Passing out is the body's way of protecting itself," she shakily reminded herself out loud, searching for words that would rationalize why her boisterous two-year-old was lying crumpled on the wooden floor. "I don't want to move him in case of a spinal injury. I really don't think that's the case, but I'm not taking that chance."

Mulder breathed heavily as he tried to concentrate on his partner's voice instead of thinking about worst-case scenarios. When his middle son finally opened his eyes, relief washed through him. "Don't move, monkey," Scully said soothingly. "We need to take you to the doctor. Does anything hurt?"

Nathan just began to sob, screaming 'ow.'

It was the sweetest sound Scully could have ever heard. "Thank God," she whispered, blinking back tears.

"What?" Mulder asked, confused and alarmed.

"If he couldn't feel anything, there would be more of a chance of permanent damage," she continued, smoothing down Nathan's hair. "Nathan, sweetie, you are going to have to stay still. Don't move around, monkey."

The next few minutes blurred by, as they tried to keep Nathan calm. While Scully held a towel to his injured scalp, Mulder pressed Woofy into his son's hand, which helped to quell his cries. "You and Woofy are going on an adventure," Mulder promised him as Scully let in the EMTs, briefing them on the boy's condition. Mulder could barely hear their conversation, caught in a stupor when one of the paramedics gruffly asked him to step aside.

Scully argued her way onto the ambulance with Nathan, and Mulder promised to meet them at the hospital as soon as he could. He stood on the front stairs in a daze until he could no longer hear the wail of its siren. While a broken arm and possible concussion could never be taken lightly, Nathan's injuries could have been far worse. Mulder was fearful and thankful at the same time, and he needed a moment to himself in order to process how everything that had just happened.

"Dad?"

Mulder whipped around to see his oldest son stare at him wide-eyed, his voice tentative.

"Is Nathan going to be okay?"

"I hope so," Mulder muttered, squeezing Kyle's shoulder as he brushed past him, turning his attention to clean up the kitchen.

XXXXXXXXXX

It wasn't until he wandered into the living room fifteen minutes later that Mulder remembered Kyle's friends were visiting. The sixth graders all looked at him with blank stares; the only noise came from Bandit, who was eyeing him suspiciously as he approached Will. Although he was impressed with Bandit's guard dog stance, he felt disappointed in himself, in that he had scared the children.

"You guys should call your parents," Mulder quietly said, stepping back with Will in his arms. "I need to get to the hospital. I'll see if Coop and Elisabeth can come by."

"We aren't leaving," the girl with the dark hair, Chloe, defiantly stated. "Not until we know what's going to happen to Nathan."

"Would your parents let you stay here with a baby sitter?" Mulder tiredly asked. He was in no mood for arguing with anyone, much less an eleven-year-old.

"What if I got my dad to stay with us?" she suggested.

Mulder knew he was outnumbered as soon as he saw the expectant faces of the group. He was touched that they wanted to stick together. Obviously, in the few weeks since school had started, Kyle had found acceptance with a solid circle of friends. "I'll call your dad," Mulder agreed.

XXXXXXXXXX

"And you're sure you want to do this?" Mulder asked Hank Gibson as the two men looked on at the chaos in the bustling kitchen. Chloe was standing over the stove, simmering the ground beef, while Kyle and Dave were creating an assembly line of toppings on the kitchen island. Natalie was in the corner with Will, playing with his animal magnets, and Aidan was chopping vegetables at the table.

"Let's just say I owe my daughter," Hank responded carefully, stepping back into the hallway, not wanting his daughter to overhear too much. "She's in her last few weeks of only child-om, we just moved, and she's beginning to realize that having a stepmother means she can be punished by two people when appropriate."

"Welcome to my world," Mulder quipped. Under different circumstances, they would quite possibly be having this conversation over beer while watching a game instead. "I think—what they saw—they might be a little shaken up."

Hank nodded, appreciating the warning. "I'll see if they want to talk about it," he promised. "I know these kids, they all have good hearts. I've heard a lot about your boy, and he's in with the right crowd here."

"They have certainly impressed me, but it's good to have that kind of confirmation all the same," Mulder said. "Are you okay with Will? I don't know how quickly our sitter can get here."

"Don't worry about the sitter," Hank reassured him, waving him off. "God knows I need the practice. Just go see your little boy, and don't worry about us."

"I really appreciate this," Mulder said, shaking Hank's hand before walking towards Will, to give the little boy a hug. "You be good, okay, bullfrog?"

"Bye bye," Will responded in a sing-song voice, his left hand in his mouth, turning his attention to his magnets.

Thankful that Will was occupied, Mulder pulled Kyle away from his friends. "I'm heading to the hospital now," Mulder said. "Either Dana or I will be back later tonight. Are you okay with everyone here?"

Kyle nodded, staring at the floor. "I want my friends to stay. Will you let me know what's wrong with him?"

"As soon as we know something, I'll call you, buddy. Okay?"

Kyle nodded, walking over to his friends downcast, Bandit running around them, eager to eat up the spare bits of food on the floor.

XXXXXXXXXX

They did not so much hug as they clung to one another as soon as they met in the emergency room. Mulder fought a sense of deja vu as he hurried along the hospital corridor, determined to keep himself mentally on track. He ignored the flashes of memory from past hospital visits that raced through his mind: storming the halls to find Scully after her return from her abduction; the dread of anticipation that accompanied him the day she told him about her cancer; the trepidation that he felt each time they visited Emily. Instead of clutching flowers or toys, he was toting a small backpack of things for Scully, Nathan, and himself. He instinctively knew that one of them would stay the night in the hospital, while the other would go home to tend to their other children.

"I got here as soon as I could," Mulder explained, tucking Scully's head under his chin, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I hit a ton of traffic."

"There was a huge multicar accident—they just rushed several critical cases in here. It's going to slow down things for Nathan. They still haven't let me back there. It's been an hour since I've seen him. They made me leave after they stitched him up."

The sudden crack in her voice cut through his own emotions, and he struggled to quell the lump in his throat. "They let him keep Woofy, right? That will make him less scared."

Scully attempted to nod, her face tickling his neck. "I brought everything you asked for," Mulder explained. "His Thomas pajamas, the Richard Scarry book, his trains, clothes for us."

"Were the kids alright?" Scully asked. "I didn't even think to—"

"Scully, don't worry about them," Mulder assured her. "They were shaken up, but they were going ahead with making tacos when I left. They don't want to leave until they know that Nathan will be okay. They are sticking together."

"I'm glad Kyle's with friends," Scully weakly smiled. "He shouldn't be alone."

"Nathan's parents?" A woman in scrubs softly tapped Scully's shoulder. "You can come back here now."

Scully dried her tears, determined not to let her son see her so upset. She knew from her own experience that children who picked up on their parents' anxiety faced more difficult recoveries. Mulder slipped his hand into hers as they followed the nurse, who introduced herself as Trisha, through a complicated series of twists and turns.

"Mr. and Mrs. Mulder?" asked a tired looking man, fumbling in his lab coat pocket for a pen. "Ned Larson."

"It's doctor and doctor, actually," Mulder muttered under his breath, annoyed as Dr. Larson yawned, flipping through Nathan's chart. "And he was here last week for tubes in his ears?"

"No, that would be our youngest son," Scully explained, trying not to let her frustration show, especially before she knew any information about the boy's condition.

"He broke his right arm in a couple of different places, maybe three," Larson droned. "He needed eleven stitches on the right side of his forehead, and we suspect he has a concussion. We'll be administering anesthesia to reset the bones. We'll want to keep a close eye on him for the next couple of days. Once we clear the critical cases from that car accident, we'll be in business."

"I'm the most worried about the possible concussion," interrupted Scully. "When can we get a neurology consult?"

"He's on the list," Larson said loudly as he hurried off. "Again, we have critical cases that have been prioritized."

Mulder snorted. "He seems to be really on top of things," he barked, the aggravation apparent in his voice. "How do we know he's even talking about Nathan? Whose chart was he even reading?"

"Let's just sit with Nathan," Scully said, squeezing his hand as they followed Trisha. She too was annoyed with Larson's behavior, but with the amount of time they would probably spend in the emergency room, she didn't want to risk a reputation for alienating the staff so quickly.

"It's your mom and dad, Nathan!" Trisha cheerfully greeted Nathan as she opened the curtain to his cubicle. Scully's heart cracked as she saw the sleepy two-year-old look so small and fragile on the gurney. His right arm was completely swollen and propped up on pillows, and his right temple was bandaged.

"He's pretty out of it," explained Trisha. "I was going to wait for you guys to get here before I took more blood. After I'm done, he can sleep. He's all set up with a saline IV, and we gave him some anti-nausea meds, and the doctor gave the okay to let him doze off. I know he's had a rough day."

Scully nodded wordlessly, biting her lip.

"Larson might come across as a little absent-minded," Trisha responded, as though she could read their minds. "But he's a great diagnostician. He actually likes being in the ER too. Believe me, he's on top of your son's case."

"Could have fooled me," Mulder sarcastically muttered as he reached for a latex glove to make a balloon for Nathan, who weakly giggled before closing his eyes again. Hearing Nathan laugh felt like music to his ears.

"When you finally get out of here, the biggest challenge will be keeping him still. Nathan will be feeling better before he can really run around, which is hard to explain to toddlers, as I'm sure you know. So I suggest that you all get as much rest as you can, because the next thing you know, you won't be able to keep up with him."

XXXXXXXXXX

Although they were in silent agreement about who would stay with Nathan and who would go home, Mulder felt the need to raise the issue once he saw the clock inch towards 11:00 PM. "It makes more sense for me to stay, especially since we haven't seen a doctor in three hours," Scully rationalized. Although Nathan had been admitted to the pediatric unit, he still hadn't seen any specialists. "It's not that I think you don't want to be here for him too."

Mulder nodded. "Scully, I know what you mean," he offered. "I'll be back tomorrow morning, as soon as I can. Kyle has his appointment with Dr. Meadows, so it probably won't be until ten-thirty."

Scully's eyes grew wide. "We should have called Elisabeth or-"

"I've got tomorrow covered, Scully," soothed Mulder. "Child care is taken care of. Let me worry about the logistics for once, okay? We'll never have to leave Nathan alone. I couldn't do that to him...or to us."

Scully nodded, feeling her resolve break as Mulder slowly stood up to kiss Nathan goodbye before giving her a sad smile as he left his room. Her tears muddled the image of him walking away, his head slightly bent. Suddenly, he hesitated, mournfully looking through the frosted window that separated him from his little boy. Squeezing Nathan's foot, she hurried out of the room.

He didn't see her at first; instead, his eyes lingered on their sleeping son. It wasn't until he felt her softly grip his forearm that he realized she had joined him in the hallway. Instinctively, he pulled her close, cupping her face in his hands before wrapping himself around her small frame. Although he couldn't hear her sobs, he could feel them ripple through the thin layers of cotton that separated them.

When they finally separated, he wasn't sure whether thirty seconds or thirty minutes had passed since they first embraced. "We'll get through this," he softly said into her hair. "I'll be here in the morning. Call me later."

She nodded, taking deep breaths. The worst thing she could do at the moment would be to walk into Nathan's room upset. "I will," she promised.

Mulder continued his way to the elevator bank. As he passed by the nurse's station, he overheard some medical staff briefing one another as they prepared to make their rounds. He opened his mouth, wanting to ask them the status of the neurology consult. He knew that Scully wouldn't sleep until she was certain that the pediatric neurologist would stop by Nathan's room. But before he could speak, he realized that the subject of the group's conversation-the 'nightmare parents with the arm fracture' referred to him and Scully.

"Have you ever seen your three-year-old child die in a hospital?" Mulder gruffly asked, cornering the three doctors, taking full advantage of the fact that he had found a way to channel his rage. "Answer me. Have you?"

"No," sputtered one of the residents. "But-"

"I would never wish what happened to us on anyone," seethed Mulder. "She...we...sure as hell can't go through that again, and believe me, if I hear any of you talk like that about my son—or about any other patient—that will be the end of you."

He pushed his way through the small crowd, impatiently banging on the elevator buttons. Lost in thought, he didn't even realize that one of the medical staff he had just confronted had also entered his car. "I'm sorry you lost your child," the lanky man nervously commented.

"So am I," Mulder muttered, refusing to look at him, waiting for what seemed like an eternity before reaching his parking level.

XXXXXXX

Upon arriving home, Mulder was impressed to see all of Kyle's friends still in the house, finding the group playing Clue on the living room floor. Although he had called them with an update on Nathan's condition as he was leaving the hospital parking lot, Mulder repeated the information. He noted the look of relief that washed through Kyle's face when he realized that his brother would be okay.

"Can I still go apple picking tomorrow?" Kyle asked nervously. At some point over the course of the past few hours, the eleven-year-old had convinced himself that things would be alright if he would still be able to go out with his friends. However, if his father were to tell him that he needed to stay home, that would be a bad sign altogether.

"Of course. Just remember that we have a couple of things to do first thing tomorrow morning," Mulder tactfully responded, hoping his son received the silent message that there was no way he would be cancelling his appointment with Dr. Meadows. Otherwise, Mulder was thankful that Kyle had already made plans with his friends before the accident; hopefully, by keeping busy, his oldest son wouldn't worry too much about what was happening with Nathan.

"How is the kiddo?" Hank asked Mulder once the kids abandoned their game in favor of making another bag of microwave popcorn.

"Broken arm in three places, eleven stitches, and a concussion," Mulder explained, with a hint of pride in his voice, stretching his arms overhead, sinking into the couch. "Well, we think. The hospital is a madhouse—there was a bad traffic accident, and we're still waiting for an MRI. We might be able to bring him home tomorrow night. This kid is not used to slowing down, so this whole cast thing will be interesting to say the least."

"Chloe took a header down the stairs once. Fourteen stitches, broken nose. Scariest night of my life," Hank reminisced. "She was four. I don't think I had ever seen so much blood coming from a tiny person. She was showing me what she had learned in her gymnastics class and kept walking backwards and I reached out to grab her and I was too late. Her mother had left only a couple of months before and I just felt like a failure of a parent."

"I can't imagine what must have gone through your head, especially when you were on your own," Mulder carefully responded.

Hank nodded and said,"It was Stella who held it together for us, for me, especially. Without her, I just would have wallowed in self-pity. She made me realize that Chloe needed to see me try, even if I ended up making mistakes. I sometimes wonder how different things would have been if she hadn't answered the phone that night. If anyone had told me back then that in seven years we would be together with a baby on the way, I would have called them crazy."

The two men sat in silence, both brooding. Mulder caught himself beginning to once again wonder how things could have played out differently if he had told Scully about Kyle. However, he knew he needed to stop before his thoughts went too out-of-hand, and decided he needed to change the topic of conversation. "Thanks for helping out like this. Not what you probably had in mind for an exciting Friday night."

"It was my pleasure," protested Hank. "You actually got me out of painting the nursery, so don't be surprised if you get a phone call from Stella checking out my alibi."

"Scully said that you and Stella are coming by for dinner next weekend."

"Yes, Stella mentioned something," Hank explained. "Dinner parties are usually not my thing, but now I'll be looking forward to it."

"I'll cut you in on a secret," offered Mulder, trying to stifle a laugh. "Around these parts, a dinner party is any meal not served on a paper plate that requires a fork. Scully promised to keep it informal. She's eager to meet more of the other parents in the neighborhood. We don't do a whole lot of socializing. In fact, I think we're pretty terrible at it."

"Then you're definitely my kind of people," Hank nodded.

XXXXXXXX

The next morning, Will woke up confused, asking for Nathan and his mother, but was cheerfully distracted with the cookies Mulder fed him for breakfast. Somehow over the chaos of the morning, Mulder had lost track of the cereal, and hadn't been able to find any frozen waffles in the freezer either. Despite not sleeping much, he had still managed to drag himself out of bed at the last possible moment, and now they were running behind schedule.

"This is our secret, slugger," Mulder said to his youngest son as he placed another Chips Ahoy in front of him, wincing as Will began to loudly repeat everything his father said, banging his trucks on his plastic high chair tray in the process.

"Why are we leaving so early?" protested Kyle, rubbing his eyes as he slumped on the kitchen table. He hadn't slept well the previous evening. All he could think about was Nathan smirking before he jumped off the kitchen counter. One minute the two-year-old was being his usual irritating self, and the next, he was deathly silent. He felt guilty for not liking his younger brother too much. For some reason, it was different with Will; maybe it was because he looked (and acted) more like a baby who didn't know any better. But Nathan was just old enough to know when he wasn't supposed to do something, and he took enormous pleasure out of annoying everyone when he did it. And instead of getting in trouble (Kyle would never agree that sitting in time-out was really a disciplinary action), everyone rolled their eyes and pretty much ignored him. But knowing that Nathan had a broken arm, and possibly had a brain injury…well, that was just too much punishment at once.

At least he would be keeping busy. Although he didn't exactly want to see Dr. Meadows, he had been looking forward to apple picking with his friends all week.

"Because we have to make a stop before your appointment," Mulder explained, jarring Kyle from his thoughts, trying not to sound as cranky as he felt. He was anxious to get back to Nathan and Scully, and he didn't want to take it out on his son. "We need to leave now."

Kyle remained silent during the car ride; while Mulder wasn't in a mood to respond to the unanswerable questions that he anticipated Kyle would ask regarding Nathan, he didn't want to play guessing games about what the eleven-year-old was thinking either.

"Stay here with your brother," instructed Mulder as he pulled into the pickup lane in Terminal A of National Airport. "And get into the backseat."

Once he climbed out of the car, Mulder saw Hannah waiting with her luggage through the terminal window. She spotted him instantly, waving as she walked towards him. He insisted on grabbing her suitcase, but before he could lead her to the car, she stopped him.

"Fox," she quietly said. "How are you holding up?"

A lump formed in Mulder's throat.

"You'll be with him soon," she patted his arm as they made their way to the car. "He'll bounce back before you know it."

XXXXXXXX

Mulder nearly had a heart attack when he walked into Nathan's empty hospital room, but was quickly redirected to the imaging department, where he saw an exhausted Scully sitting on a bench in the hallway.

"It only took twelve hours to get this MRI," she wryly commented.

"At least he's being seen," Mulder sighed as he sat down next to her.

"Nathan spiked a fever this morning, and had trouble keeping down the contrast shake," explained Scully. "They wouldn't let him eat before the MRI so he's miserable. How are Kyle and Will?"

"Great. Kyle saw Dr. Meadows, and now he's with his friends, and Will is going to be spoiled rotten."

"Is Elisabeth really okay for another full day? We need to make sure that—"

Mulder grinned, prompting Scully to ask him what was happening back at home. "Not Elisabeth," he shook his head, enjoying the sight of a flustered Scully. "Hannah. I picked her up from the airport this morning. She's going to help out for a couple of weeks. I know that making sure Nathan rests will be a full-time job in itself, and Will might not be too cooperative about it either."

They both knew what remained unsaid—that one or even both of them might be forced to become involved with the trial proceedings once the judge handed down his rulings regarding Charlie's testimony and the admissibility of the evidence of Mulder's involvement with the investigation.

"You are brilliant," Scully finally said, relieved beyond words. "Thank you for thinking of it. I don't know what we would have done otherwise."

A few minutes later, the double doors opened, and Nathan's hospital bed was wheeled out. "Daddy!" beamed Nathan. "I throwed up!"

"You did?! Was it messy? And stinky?"

"Yup!" Nathan proudly answered.

"Good job, monkey," Mulder told his son as they began to walk towards his room, giving Scully the time and space she needed to pump information from the radiologist. Although he was obviously tired, Nathan chattered non-stop, which his father took to be a positive sign that he was beginning to feel a little better.

"It's going to be a few hours before they get the results read," Scully softly told Mulder, her discouragement obvious.

As soon as she stifled a yawn, Mulder saw his opportunity. "Go home and get a few hours of sleep, check-in on Will. I'll call you as soon as something changes here. Even if we get to bring him home tonight, we'll need to be on our toes."

Scully looked at her partner skeptically, remaining unconvinced even after he brought out his puppy dog eyes and pout. Although she was exhausted, she was loathe to leave Nathan's side.

"Nathan, tell Mommy she needs to go home and take a nap so that way we can have a meeting of our boys only club," Mulder instructed his son. "Which means we get to have awesome fun without her."

After his father whispered something in his ear, Nathan's eyebrows shot up. "Go home!"

Scully rolled her eyes, but was too tired to call out Mulder on his low blow tactics. "I'll find a cab," she yawned. "But, if—"

"I promise I'll call," Mulder smiled, giving her a small kiss. "And remember, I'll be checking up on you too. Hannah has her orders."

As she continued to linger over Nathan, Mulder practically had carry her out of the room. "It's just a few hours," he reminded her, before lowering his voice. "This is a marathon, not a sprint. It's going to be a tough week even without a broken arm. He'll be outrunning us this time tomorrow. Keeping this kid from wreaking havoc is going to be our life's mission for the next few days. And selfishly, I want you well rested for reasons of my own."

Scully nodded, knowing Mulder was right. She finished her goodbyes, tiredly making her way back home.

XXXXXXXX

For the first time since high school, Scully was sent to bed, no questions asked. After warm hugs from Hannah and Will, the older woman, with a mock stern glare, pointed towards the staircase. Scully knew marching orders when she saw them, and seeing Will so content with helping Hannah make cookies put her mind at ease.

Hannah's presence in the household comforted Scully to no end; over the summer, she remembered what it was like to have the advice and wisdom of a mother-figure. Besides, she was the closest thing the boys had to a grandmother—at the least the type who enjoyed baking, coloring, and playing trains on the living room floor. Despite Teena Mulder's growing interest in her grandchildren, Scully doubted that her mother-in-law would chase after runaway toys under the sofa.

After a hot shower, she managed to drop into a three hour nap. Upon waking, as soon as she realized how much time had passed, she reached for her phone to check-in with Mulder.

"The patient is eating jello and watching Bugs Bunny," he reported. "The pediatric neurologist will stop by around four thirty, or so the charge nurse tells me."

Leave it to Mulder to bat his eyelashes and have the world do his bidding. Maybe he should have been the one to stay over at the hospital the previous evening. "I'm leaving soon," Scully promised, a wry smile crossing her lips as she hung up the phone.

She made her way to the living room, where she found Will napping on the floor, Bandit curled up next to him. Hannah was sitting on the couch, reading a mystery novel, and stood up from her place once she caught sight of the younger woman.

"Playmates for life," Hannah observed. "I'm not sure which one of them needed the nap more."

"Bandit is very gentle with them. I was a little worried at first, but we haven't had any incidents," Scully explained, thinking of the first time she saw Will and Bandit curled up next to one another, both fast asleep; had it really only been a few weeks before? She remembered watching them nap with baited breath, ready to protect her baby in case of a nip from a nervous puppy. "But how have you been? We've missed you...I've missed you."

"I've been keeping myself out of trouble," answered Hannah. "My fall gardening chores are done, Lyman insists on fishing no matter the weather. I just wish I was here in DC for a certain little boy's third birthday party instead."

"Me too," Scully agreed, her voice trailing as she thought about what they should have been doing—spending time at the park, taking a walk around the neighborhood with the dog, squeezing in one last trip to the zoo before it switched to winter hours. "I better get back to the hospital before they end up driving the entire staff crazy. I have visions of them making water balloons from the latex gloves and using the gurneys as go karts."

"Well, I'm sure if they did all that, they would charm whoever they needed to and smooth it all over in a heartbeat."

"All three of them have inherited their father's charm," agreed Scully. "But even when they are up to no good, their hearts are in the right place."

Looking at her watch, Scully called a cab, torn when it pulled up and she had to leave. "Don't worry about us," Hannah assured her.

"Thank you for being here," Scully said, hugging the woman goodbye. "It really means a lot."

She tried to nap during the cab ride, but became distracted by the variant crackling of the radio. What woke her was not loud music, or the irate voices of call-in program listeners, but the WASPy drone of a newscaster saying her name.

She panicked, unsure of whether she wanted to ask the driver to turn up the radio or to turn it off completely. She decided to do neither, and instead strained to hear what was being said. But before she could catch more than a few words, the segment ended and the jingle for a local car dealership began to play. Frustrated, she struggled to remember everything that was allegedly happening with the trial that weekend—the fallout from her brother's testimony, the possibility of Mulder's name being dragged into the investigation.

Lost in thought, she nearly jumped when her cell phone went off. "What's wrong?" she asked immediately, assuming the caller was Mulder.

"Everything and nothing at the same time."

"Charlie? I thought you weren't so supposed to be—"

"As you know, I'm not too good with the whole following-the-rules thing," her brother answered, sounding distracted and uncharacteristically monotone. "Danes, I need to let you know—"

"I'm losing you, Charlie," Scully nervously stated, unsure of whether her reception had dropped, or if the muffled static was coming from Charlie's end. She swore under her breath as the line went dead. Once she climbed out of the cab, she dialed her brother's cell phone, which went directly to voicemail.

Her mood brightened when she walked into Nathan's room to see her little boy sitting up smiling. "Hi Mommy," he said.

"How are you doing, monkey?" Scully asked him as she brushed her hand over his forehead.

"No," Nathan stubbornly protested, pointing to the television with his left hand. Scully moved out of the way, knowing from experience that Nathan did not appreciate his view of Sesame Street being blocked.

"Any updates?" Scully asked Mulder as they stepped to the side of the room.

"He threw up again," Mulder said. "They mentioned that they won't release him until he is able to keep down some food. But he had some toast and Gatorade about twenty minutes ago, and so far, so good."

"Not releasing a patient until they are able to keep down food, that's standard," Scully agreed, unable to tear her eyes away from her son. "Have you heard from Preston, by any chance?"

"No, why?" Mulder asked, curious.

"Charlie just tried calling me but the line dropped," Scully shrugged.

"I completely forgot," Mulder said, finding his coat on a chair, fumbling for the phone in his leather jacket pocket. "I asked Langley to look into something about that. I'll be back in a minute."

As he left the room to make the call, Scully took the chair closest to Nathan's bed. His right arm was noticeably less swollen, and he looked much more comfortable than he had that morning. "Are you feeling better, monkey?" she asked.

"Yes," he automatically responded. "I wanna play."

"You'll be able to play once your arm gets a little better. We don't want to accidentally hurt it even more," she attempted to explain, fiddling with the blanket on his lap.

"No," he stubbornly protested, the stubborn.

She recognized that particular whine as of the immediate-precursor-to-a-much-needed-nap variety. "Do you want to read your Busytown book?" she suggested, muting the television.

Despite the fact that he shook his head, Scully pulled the book out of his backpack, and started reading. Within seconds, Nathan was looking at the pictures, pointing to things and by the time his father re-entered his hospital room, he was fast asleep. "He's exhausted," noted Scully. "He didn't nap at all today?"

"No. I mean, I asked him if he wanted to nap earlier, and he said no," Mulder explained, caught off-guard by the look his partner shot him.

"Has he ever answered yes to that particular question?" she asked, her amusement apparent.

"You got me there. I guess I kind of walked into that one, didn't I?" admitted Mulder.

"Any news from Langley?" Scully treaded carefully; she could tell from the distracted look on Mulder's face that he had received some piece of vital news.

Mulder nodded. "I'm pretty sure that he met with Marita," explained Mulder. "The security cameras on his floor were out for eleven minutes the night before he imploded on the stand."

"How did you know it was Marita?" Scully asked. It wasn't that she did not trust her partner's leaps of intuition; she was just genuinely curious. Out of all of Mulder's contacts, Marita was the one she understood the least. Unlike his other informants, Mulder knew her name and where she worked; this made Scully wonder why Marita was willing to risk so much.

"He did something with his hands," Mulder softly explained. "It was something that he had done the night I introduced them. Let's just say it was a lewd gesture of sorts."

Before she could ask any more questions, the nurse who had been working with Nathan all day entered the room to take his vitals. Scully took the opportunity to speak with her about his progress, while Mulder stepped back into the hallway to take another phone call.

"I have some good news," Scully brightly told Mulder when he re-entered the room. "The nurse thinks we have a good shot of bringing Nathan home tonight if he doesn't get feverish again."

A small smile crossed Mulder's lips. "That's real good, Scully," he said, hugging her. "It will be nice for everyone to be at home together,"

"What's wrong? Something's wrong, Mulder. What is it?" As soon as she had picked up on the tension in his touch, she knew something wasn't right.

"Charlie's gone, Scully. He left us a note saying that he is okay, that he's going to follow a lead. He said he's almost figured it out, but he's going to find out why your father made that decision that Thanksgiving weekend," Mulder soberly told her, his hands resting on her shoulders.

"But that—that's stupid, even for Charlie," Scully explained, bewildered.

"Scully, he left this morning, with Marita Covarrubias. Security footage from his hotel lobby proves it," he continued. "All evidence proves he went willingly."

XXXXXXXX


	37. Chapter Thirty Six

Special thanks to oldmoviewatcher for being a great sounding board, and for letting me borrow Chloe. Happy reading!

XXXXXXXX

Despite sleeping during the car ride home, Nathan woke up once they walked into the house. "I'm not falling for that one, buddy," Mulder good-naturedly told his son after he began to wiggle in his arms. He knew Nathan wanted to be on his own two feet, most likely in search of a certain puppy. "You know there's no running around for you."

As soon as Nathan yawned, his parents knew he would drop right back to sleep. "We should keep him in our room," Scully insisted, rubbing Nathan's back as his breathing deepened. "We have to check for a fever every couple of hours, and we need to make sure he doesn't sleep on his cast."

Mulder nodded, hoping that his aggravation wasn't apparent. His guilt faded when he saw Scully shoot him a sympathetic smile; she was obviously thinking about their dry spell as well. He kissed the top of Nathan's head as he readjusted his hold on the two-year-old.

"You're home!" Hannah softly greeted them as they walked into the living room. She cringed when she saw Nathan's blue cast and the heavily bandaged area covering the stitches on his brow. "Poor baby," she whispered, running her hand along his arm.

Nathan barely stirred, burying his face into his father's shoulder. "Let's get him settled," Mulder whispered as the two-year-old finally dropped back to sleep.

Scully, in her infinite wisdom, had changed Nathan's pajamas right before they left the hospital, so there was no need to wrestle with his cast and risk waking him. "Do you think that he's okay alone? I don't want him to roll on his arm," Scully asked.

"We'll check back in a half-hour. Even if it happens, we'll be able to hear him," Mulder reasoned, pointing to the baby monitor she had just brought over from Nathan's bedroom. "But right now, you need to eat. Coffee and crackers from a vending machine do not count as food. And I have it on good authority that you won't be the one cooking tonight."

It wasn't until Mulder mentioned food that Scully realized she was famished. Just as he promised, Hannah had a late dinner waiting for them. "You made your Yankee pot roast! This smells delicious," Mulder happily remarked, a boyish grin lighting up his face.

Both Hannah and Scully smiled upon hearing the excitement in Mulder's voice. "What else would I make, Fox?" Hannah tsked with a laugh. "I always made this when you needed some cheering up."

"How was Will?" Scully asked Hannah as the three began to eat.

"He fell asleep about an hour ago," Hannah said between bites. "He and that puppy wore each other out. I don't know how you keep up with them, Dana."

"She's had years of practice," quipped Mulder with a cheeky grin, much like one that would cross Nathan's face right before being sent to time-out. "Has the oldest spawn phoned home?"

He peeked over at Scully, hoping that she had cracked a smile. Mulder was determined to make her laugh at least once before she fell asleep. It was a game he played with himself when he knew that under her masked exterior, she was emotionally or physically exhausted. She absentmindedly spun her fork in her mashed potatoes, slyly smiling when their eyes met, knowing exactly what he was trying to do.

"He should be back any minute," Hannah responded, clueless as to the silent conversation the partners were exchanging. "Oh, I completely forgot. A restaurant called to confirm your reservations for tonight? I told them that you wouldn't be able to make it."

Scully arched her right eyebrow, intrigued. She had completely forgotten that Mulder was making mystery plans for them that evening. "What restaurant?"

"Don't answer that question," Mulder sputtered, prompting both women to laugh.

Meanwhile, Kyle stood at the front door, reluctant to enter the house; the only reason he didn't dawdle was that he knew Dave's parents wouldn't drive away until they saw him walk inside. He fumbled with his key, and relaxed upon hearing laughter from the direction of the kitchen.

That meant that Nathan was okay.

For most of the day, he had managed to not think about his younger brother's injuries, but as his friends began to be dropped off through the narrow city streets, the distractions decreased, and his thoughts wandered to what had happened the previous evening. Although his father had repeatedly told him that things would be alright, Kyle wasn't sure whether believed him. After all, wasn't it the kind of thing that all parents would lie to their kids?

He had more trouble than usual sleeping the previous evening. All he could think about was how he had treated his brother over the past few months. It wasn't that he hated Nathan; he was just a pest, always demanding attention, talking non-stop, and doing things he wasn't supposed to. He knew that complaining out loud would only further aggravate his father, who would tell him that Nathan was only two and would grow out of his mischievousness. And then Dana would inevitably follow-up with a comment about how Nathan really looked up to him, and just wanted his big brother to play for a few minutes. It was much easier to just ignore them both, and then appease his father and stepmother by saying a few things to them during breakfast and dinner.

But the thought of Nathan seriously hurt made Kyle shudder. He really hadn't expected his little brother would jump off the kitchen counter. Even though Nathan always received a time-out when he was caught climbing things he wasn't supposed to, he kept repeating his behavior.

But what scared him even more was his father's reaction after seeing Nathan sprawled on the floor. He immediately threw him and his friends out of the room, his anger blatant, and even tossed Bandit into the hallway; the puppy hadn't done anything wrong. In fact, Bandit really liked Nathan and would never hurt either him or Will.

Kyle crept into the kitchen, placing his bag of apples on the counter. As he shrugged out of his jacket, he asked after his brother. "He's sleeping upstairs," Dana reported.

"So he's alright?" Kyle asked with some trepidation.

"In a few days, once the pain goes away, he'll be running around again. He really likes his cast," his father responded.

"Why don't you have some dinner?" Hannah fussed. "And don't say that you already ate."

Even though they had stopped for pizza on their way home from the orchard, Kyle was still hungry. He loved Hannah's cooking, and he didn't want to do anything that would result in Hannah threatening not to make the apple pie she had promised.

While digging into his food, Kyle observed his father, who was noticeably more relaxed than he had been that morning. Content with that thought, he didn't even realize that Dana was speaking to him until his father gently nudged him. "What?" he mumbled, his mouth full of mashed potatoes.

"I wanted to let you know, and I'll tell your friends as well, that Nathan would have done the same thing even if I was in the room," she explained, her voice slightly shaky. "I shouldn't have left him and Will with you guys like that."

Suddenly, the anxiety sitting in Kyle's stomach evaporated, despite not thinking he had been harboring guilty thoughts about his brother's accident. As he slowly swallowed his food, his father began to speak.

"When I first saw Nathan last night, I was afraid, and I know that I was rough with Bandit. I didn't mean to scare you guys. So maybe I could take you and your friends to see a movie next week? And I also need your help in making sure that Bandit and I are friends again."

Mulder and Scully exchanged nervous glances as they waited for Kyle to react, torn about whether they should have ventured into such a conversation without Kyle initiating it. Scully was hyper cognizant of tendency to not bring up subjects that made her uncomfortable, and she was determined to make sure that she acted as she had in Dr. Meadows' office two days prior. She felt Mulder squeeze her hand under the table, and she returned the gesture.

"Can we go to the park with Bandit tomorrow?" Kyle asked hopefully, his face brightening.

"Of course, bud," Mulder responded, reaching out to ruffle his son's hair. "You and me. I'd like that."  
XXXXXXXX

Both Mulder and Scully simultaneously jerked awake when they first heard Nathan's cries. "I know it hurts, monkey," soothed Scully, pulling the two-year-old close, careful not to disrupt his injured arm.

"Do you want me to get the Children's Tylenol?" Mulder groggily yawned.

After catching sight of the alarm clock, she groaned. "He can't take it for another couple of hours."

Mulder sat up, rearranging some pillows so Nathan could better snuggle with both his parents, resting his injured arm on his father's side. "Nathan-monkey, do you want to hear a story about you and Woofy going on an adventure?" he asked.

Scully couldn't help but smile as she listened to Mulder tell a tale of Nathan and Woofy traipsing through a magical forest, filled with talking animals and buried treasure. She loved watching him interact with the children, and envied his ability to instantly create a world of make-believe. Within seconds, he was able to get Nathan giggling. Once Nathan drifted off to sleep, Scully whispered, "He's a pretty amazing kid."

"Of course he is," Mulder responded. "You know, I have a feeling that this is only the first of many trips to the emergency room for this little monkey."

"He's certainly fearless," agreed Scully. "I see a lot of you in him."

"I wouldn't say that I'm fearless, Scully," Mulder said, extending his arm to trace patters on Scully's back.

"Fearless doesn't mean that you not know the risks, or understand them," explained Scully softly. "It means that you do something despite them. And while I don't condone jumping off the kitchen counter, I have to say that I admire his curiosity in trying new things."

Mulder held back a throaty laugh, not wanting to wake up the sleeping toddler. "I can't wait to see what he comes up with next."  
XXXXXXXX

"But I wanna go!" Nathan cried, stomping his foot, his lower lip protruding.

"Sshh, Nathan." Mulder knelt down to his son's eye-level. He didn't know why he thought he would be able to get away with taking Will, Kyle, and Bandit to the park without Nathan getting wind of their excursion. It had already been a trying morning; Nathan clearly wasn't feeling himself, and had been cranky and more stubborn than usual since he woke up. The plan had been to get as many people out of the house as possible so he could settle into a nap, and if Mulder hadn't known any better, he would have bet that Nathan knew exactly what his parents were trying to orchestrate, and was doing his damndest not to fall into the trap.

"What if we made you a fort? A fort just for you? But I can't help you make it until you stop whining, okay?"

Nathan sniffled, quickly realizing that his father meant business. Once the two-year-old calmed down, Mulder took his good hand, and together they went into the living room while Scully got Will ready for some time outside. "Will," she warned as he wiggled away once she began to apply sunscreen to his face. "You know the rules. This goes much faster when you stay still, bullfrog."

Kyle made his displeasure known as she helped Will into his vest, packed the diaper bag with snacks, some juice, and some Band-Aids. "We're just going to the park," Kyle groaned, impatiently tugging on Bandit's leash, the dog taking it as a cue to bark. When he had asked his father if they could take the puppy for a walk during dinner the previous evening, he had intended for it to be a one-on-one excursion. He also wanted to see if his father would give him more information about where Charlie could have gone to if Dana wasn't around.

"And it will be a rather short trip if you don't have this with you," responded Scully.

"Whatever," Kyle muttered, backtracking with a 'sorry' once he met his father's stern gaze. "But I know you're thinking it too."

Mulder bit his tongue, reluctant to further prolong their outing. "I'm not saying anything," he defended himself, hands in the air, grumbling when he heard the front doorbell chime. Before he was able to tell Kyle that he would answer the door, a clattering of voices wafted through the first floor.

"We got this for Nathan," Chloe brightly chirped, holding a helium Thomas the Tank Engine balloon.

"That's so thoughtful, Chloe. Thank you," smiled Scully as Kyle led his friend into the living room. Walking out of the kitchen, Scully saw a pregnant woman in the open doorway. "Oh, please, come in!"

"Hi, I'm Stella Pollack," the blonde woman shyly introduced herself, holding out her hand. "You must be Dana. It's nice to finally meet you."

Before Scully could respond, Kyle and Chloe reappeared the hallway, Chloe asking for permission to go to the park. Stella nodded, giving her stepdaughter a look that prompted the girl to ask her hosts whether she would be able to join the group. "The more the merrier," Mulder shrugged, sensing that Scully wouldn't mind the opportunity to spend some time with another adult. "Let's just get out of here."

Stella exchanged smiles with Chloe, who triumphantly followed the Mulder brood out of the house. Once the front door slammed behind them, Scully asked her guest whether she would like to have some tea.

"That would be lovely. I have to say, it's nice to get out of the house. Hank's painting today, and Chloe has done an admirable job of not helping him," Stella commented, resting her hand on her stomach. "Common sense dictated that father and daughter take a bit of a break from each other."

Once the hot water boiled, the women carried their drinks into the living room. "Nathan, can you say thank you to Ms. Pollack for the balloon?" Scully asked, a bit concerned that Nathan had been so quiet.

"No," called out a muffled voice from under the confines of the fort, which consisted of blankets hanging from the sides of the couch and an arm chair, and a stack of pillows that surrounded the furniture.

Scully bit back a smile as she approached the front flap. "Can I please come in?"

"Okay," Nathan dramatically sighed. "But I want Daddy and the park."

Scully peeled the blanket back, unveiling an exhausted Nathan who was clutching his balloon with his uninjured hand, with Woofy settled on his lap. "What do you say to Ms. Pollack?"

"Thank you," Nathan softly said, his eyes drooping. Scully stealthily rearranged some of the pillows to make it easier for Nathan to rest his arm.

"Are you tired, monkey?"

Nathan shook his head with a fierce look on his face; he was always his most stubborn when he was tired. "Are you okay playing trains with Woofy while we sit here?" Nathan sleepily nodded with heavy eyes, turning his attention to his toys.

"Chloe has been a good friend to Kyle," Scully noted as she sat down. "She's a breath of fresh air, along with others."

"That's nice to hear," responded Stella with a tight smile, a faraway look on her face. "She's going through kind of tough time right now, and those kids have meant everything to her. I don't want to imagine how things would be if she didn't have them."

"Eleven is a difficult age," agreed Scully, wondering whether she was qualified to make such a statement after only seven months of experience. "Especially for an only child adjusting to new siblings."

"Is it alright if I ask you how it's been with Kyle? I mean, I know that we only just met, but I really don't have anyone who is a stepparent to an eleven-year-old to ask these questions," Stella asked, choosing her words carefully.

"Most of the time they aren't in each other's orbits," shrugged Scully, setting down her tea. "Both Will and Nathan look up to him, and he's been pretty patient with Will so far, but Nathan's in the terrible twos stage, so that's been a bit more difficult. The family therapist we've been seeing says it's not unusual, and he keeps reminding us that everything is a process. But Chloe keeps talking about her new little brother, and she seems very excited."

Stella rolled her eyes. "That's what everyone keeps telling us," she grimaced. "Before we knew the sex of the baby, a few months ago, we had my two-year-old niece stay with us for a few days. Chloe was very excited and insisted on having the baby stay in her room instead of ours, and the first day was fine. Then the baby wakes up at night, crying. Hank gets her to calm down, and calls her his favorite little girl. Chloe just couldn't handle it, and had a meltdown; she was hysterical, and I-we just felt powerless. She just cried and wouldn't talk, tried to lock herself in her room. We ended up asking Hank's sister to come over, and thankfully, Chloe just spilled everything, she calmed down, and then Chloe spent the rest of the weekend at her place. Hank just felt so guilty, he was devastated, I was paralyzed. We were originally not going to find out whether we are going to have a boy or a girl, but after that, we felt we needed to, in order to help prepare Chloe. But since that weekend, Chloe has kind of ignored her father. He wants to spend a lot of quality time with her now, before the baby arrives, so it's been hard for him. This baby means a lot to us...I had a miscarriage a couple of years ago, which Chloe doesn't know about, and for Hank and myself, well, we just got our second chance, but it's hard to be happy when we know Chloe is in such pain."

Stella took a long sip of tea. "Wow, it must be the hormones. I usually never talk about this kind of thing."

"No, please don't be embarrassed," Scully pleaded. "I-it's been different for me, for us-I've never had to go through what you did. But I understand, or at least I think I do. I was told that I would never have children, so Will and Nathan...it's our miracle. And I've seen Mulder struggle with the fact that his relationship with Kyle is different, and will always be different from that with the other two. And sometimes when I'm with the younger kids, and I look up and see Kyle, he just has this spacey look on his face, like he doesn't quite know where he fits in, and it's really hard to see that. Mulder and I keep telling each other that we can't get too wrapped up in the past, in things that can't be changed. As I've said, we've been working with a therapist, someone who Kyle really likes. He sees Kyle each week, and the three of us met with him a few days ago, and it was incredibly difficult, but afterwards, I just knew that because we made it this far, it's going to be okay. It's going to be a slow process, but we'll get there."

"That might be something we should look at," Stella mused, running her hands through her blonde hair. "Things have been start-and-stop for Hank and I. Chloe has always been our foremost concern, and we tip-toed around her; looking back, maybe too much so. We finally got settled into our new place a couple of weeks ago, and now it feels like all of this chaos is happening at once, but it actually took us nearly two years from our initial decision to move in together. We hit every roadblock imaginable-contractor issues, then a flood thanks to our upstairs neighbors that took months to clean up, and during that whole time, Chloe was so impatient for us to move. That first night all three of us were at our new place, she just couldn't stop crying. We asked her what's wrong, and she said that everything was different, things would never be the same and that she missed home."

Scully winced, thinking about her concern that Kyle did not feel at home in Georgetown, not realizing the transparency of her facial expressions. "I take it you've had a similar conversation?" Stella carefully prompted, unsure about how much more her new friend would want to share with a near stranger.

"Sort of," Scully attempted to explain. "I think it's not so much him thinking about New York, as it is the quality time alone he and his father used to share. They have a special bond. It's always hardest when Mulder gets home from a trip, especially when his brothers are clamoring all over him."

A few hours later, as they cleaned up the kitchen after lunch, Mulder asked her, "Be honest, Scully. Did I throw you in the lion's den this morning?" "No, we had a nice conversation," Scully answered, choosing her words carefully. "We have a lot in common, and she's by far and away the best parent I've met. So it's a nice try, but I'm not calling off Saturday's dinner."

Mulder laughed, leaning against the kitchen counter at an angle designed to invade her personal space as much as possible. "I didn't think you would, even if it were to just teach me a lesson. Do you think we may have found another set of parents to be actual friends with? Or have we dodged a bullet, and can safely be completely antisocial?"

Her lips curved into a smile, and she moved closer to him, a chill running up her spine when she heard the clatter of the utensils she dropped in the sink. She tried to avoid looking at the wall clock, knowing that no matter the time indicated, it wouldn't be enough for them to sneak away upstairs, or even to the office down the hall. "Do you feel like being antisocial tonight?"

He swallowed hard, his gaze centering on her lips. "I always like being antisocial with you," he said into her ear. "It's my favorite."  
XXXXXX

Their interlude was short-lived; in ignoring the ringing phone, they only gained about thirty seconds of additional privacy before Hannah walked into the kitchen, with Kyle right behind her, handing Mulder the cordless handset. "It's your boss," she announced. Reluctantly, Mulder let go of his rather red faced partner, who slunk out of the room, but not before placing one last kiss on his Adam's apple.

Mulder managed to keep the conversation to a minimum, promising to both be on his best behavior the next day, as well as to show up to the formal announcement of the task force on time. Kersh assured him that there would be minimum fuss. "Can I bring someone?" Mulder asked on a whim; he knew that it went completely against his recent policy of keeping his personal life off the radar, but at the same time, he wanted Scully to be with him. Although this new task force reeked of opportunism on the part of the Bureau, his promotion was still tangentially rooted in the success he shared with Scully in their fieldwork.

"No, this is pretty much off the books. We'll get you out of there in less than ten minutes. It's more along the lines of a department heads meeting than a commendation ceremony," Kersch droned. "The Director has a busy schedule, so you better not hold anything up."

"You really haven't changed, Fox," Hannah clucked as Mulder turned off the phone and headed to the kitchen table, reaching for a cookie. "It's a good thing that I think Dana is perfect for you. Otherwise, you would be hearing me lecture."

"As opposed to what you are doing now?" Mulder grumpily muttered. It didn't matter that he was now an adult in his own home; having your nanny catch you making out with someone never ended well.

"You weren't much older than Kyle when I found you and Kristy Tur-"

"Stop it, don't finish that sentence," Mulder gagged. "I don't want to even think about-Kyle, stop laughing. It's not funny, goddamnit."

"Who was she?" Kyle rarely got a glimpse into his father's formative years, and was eager to hear anything that would provide some insight into his adolescence.

"No one," sulked Mulder. Hannah had warned him that afternoon fifteen years earlier that she would always remind him of that particular escaped, and she performed an admirable job in keeping that promise.

"Did you like her more than Mom?" Kyle asked, biting into an apple.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion for Mulder, as he looked up from the table and saw his son's hazel eyes challenging his own. "Of course not," he quickly-and firmly-answered. "I loved your mother."

"Really?" The eleven-year-old was taken aback by his father's response to his rather impulsive question. "You did?"

"Just because we weren't right for each other doesn't mean that we weren't happy at one time, Kyle. I'll always cherish the time your mom and I had together. I wouldn't change anything," Mulder continued, determined to be honest with his son. Hannah gave him an encouraging look as she left the kitchen.

"But you like Dana more, right?"

Mulder sat back, looking at his son intently. He chewed on his lip for a moment, carefully thinking about how he was going to answer the question, relying on both his training as a psychologist and his experience as a parent. What Kyle needed most was his reassurance that he was loved and was a part of the family they had created in Georgetown.

"I love Dana more than anything," Mulder leaned forward, trying to move as close to Kyle as possible. "But I'm not the same person I was back when I was with your mom, so it's not a real comparison. The bottom line, Kyle, is I never would have met Dana if it weren't for you."

Kyle looked down, nervously playing with his hands, his apple abandoned on the table. "What is it, bud?" Mulder gently asked, not wanting his son to retreat quite yet.

"Will you get mad if I ask you a question?" Kyle began, trying to work up the courage to ask him a question that had been niggling at him since his father explained his new job to him during breakfast that morning.

"Of course not. You always ask good questions," Mulder tried to inject a touch of humor in his voice.

"Mom said you got divorced because you worked all the time," Kyle started, his voice shaking slightly.

"That was a big part of it," Mulder agreed, wondering where the conversation was going; there had been a period of time, when Kyle was seven, when he would ask a lot of questions about his parents' divorce. He didn't even think that they had broached the subject since then.

"What happens if you work too much now?"

Mulder felt as though he had been punched in the stomach. It was not only an incredibly obvious question, but one that he hadn't expected at all. He thought about the past few weeks, and suddenly things began to click into place.

As those thoughts flew around his mind fast and furious, he found himself tongue tied. Maybe Kyle was afraid that their life in Georgetown wouldn't be permanent, that it was a mere layover like their summer on the Vineyard. Maybe he was wondering about whether there were any cracks in his relationship with Scully.

"I promise you, Kyle, I won't let that happen. Dana and I-"

But by the time he managed to look up and speak, he was alone in the kitchen, Kyle's half-eaten apple abandoned on the table.  
XXXXXX

"What's wrong?"

Scully hadn't realized anyone was even in the kitchen when she first entered the room; the late afternoon sun had retreated, casting shadows in the room. She tightened her grip on Will, who was sitting on her hip, pointing to the refrigerator. It wasn't until she hit the light that she saw Mulder, spaced out at the table, looking out the window with a grim look on his face.

He looked just as startled to see her. "Nothing," he lied. However, he didn't fool his partner; she knew something was up, but also knew that sometimes Mulder had to let his thoughts percolate in his head before he shared them. And as much as she wanted to probe him further right then and there, she knew that she owed him the same courtesy he had been careful to afford her over the past several months as the case against her brother, and finally, the trial itself, had progressed.

Pull back with Mulder, push with Kyle, she silently reminded herself. What complicated communication dynamics there were among the three of them; at least they could be straightforward with the toddlers.

Lost in thought, Scully didn't realize that Mulder was relieving her of Will until she felt the baby kick her on her side. "I'll take over," Mulder quietly offered, tickling a still drowsy Will. Just like his mother, he always needed a few extra minutes to adjust to the waking world.

"Let me get the juice," Scully answered, brought back to reality. "Both of them woke up pretty thirsty. I'm worried about Nathan getting enough fluids."

As Mulder sat on the living room floor with Will, playing with his farm animal set, he thought about the two mothers of his children. He knew that eventually, they would have to confront the issue of Diana being Nathan's biological mother, but he pushed aside that particular thought for a later time. As he asked Will what sound the cow made, it struck him that his youngest son was now about the same age as Kyle when he had moved out of the home they had shared in Alexandria. As things broke down with Diana, he had found solace at the office, which fed into his workaholic tendencies, creating a vicious cycle that he really hadn't woken up from until well after he had met Scully. Just the prospect of splitting up with Scully made Mulder shudder. They had gone through so much to get where they were today that he couldn't imagine either of them wanting to calling it quits.

"Baa baa," Will sang to himself as Mulder passed him the sheep. As he began to wander away, Mulder leaned over to scoop him up, needing to keep him close for another moment longer.

"You know what, slugger? You are the best parts of your mommy and me. And that's something that no one else has," Mulder quietly explained to Will, hoping that no one, even Scully, would be able to overhear him.  
XXXXXX

As Nathan was still out-of-sorts all afternoon, Mulder took the opportunity to hide out in his fort to try and cheer up the hurting toddler. Despite only having one good hand, Nathan had managed to move most of his toys under his blanket-tent, growing frustrated that there wasn't quite enough room to maneuver his trains. "Let's move some stuff over here, monkey," Mulder delicately suggested, reminding himself that bedtime was only an hour away.

"No!"

For a brief moment, Mulder felt that he owed Scully an apology for all of the times he had snapped at her for trying to get something-anything-from his desk. The times in which she needed a file, paperwork, or piece of research and was met with a disapproving growl and a dirty look were probably too numerous to mention. He ducked his head to glimpse her across the floor, watching Will build a tower of blocks.

"Daddy," Nathan whined, waving a Richard Scarry book.

"Do you think we should read this with Mommy and Will?" Mulder asked Nathan, who had earlier resisted the idea of sharing his patch of space with anyone but his father.

"No."

At least the kid was honest, thought Mulder.

"I think you'll have more fun if you read with Will," suggested Mulder, hoping that a few stories would coax both kids into going to sleep early. "Like when you share your toys, you have more games to play."

Mulder took Nathan's silence as a yes, and called out to Will to join them. He had to admit that it was rather cozy reading books with two pajama-clad toddlers who smelled of soap, a warm fire a few feet away, the flicker of its flames catching his eye every time he turned a page.

Although he had guessed that both boys were asleep by the time he read the book for a second time, Nathan's cry of 'more' prompted him to read it for a third, by which time he suspected that they had both fallen asleep. Not wanting to risk waking either of them, Mulder sat back against the couch, listening to their breathing, closing his own eyes.

XXXXXX

The look on Kyle's face as he entered the kitchen perplexed Scully. "What are you thinking?"

Kyle look taken aback by the question. "Nothing," he shrugged, not wanting to go into the conversation he had with his father earlier that day. "I have to take Bandit out, and Dad's sleeping."

"I'll walk with you," Scully offered, grateful that she would have a few moments alone with her stepson to try and gauge what he was thinking.

Kyle shrugged, relieved that he would at least be able to avoid his father for the time being.

One thing that Kyle appreciated about his stepmother was that she was unfussy. When his brothers weren't concerned, she was always able to get ready in only a couple of minutes, and with the exception of the morning school run, she never hurried him along. "How long is Hannah staying?" Kyle asked her as they walked down the street.

"I'm not sure," Dana responded, sticking her hands in her jacket pockets. She had only gone outside to take out the trash right after dinner, and even in the short amount of time since, the temperature had dropped considerably. "Probably a couple of weeks. So she'll have time to make all your favorites."

Kyle gave a small smile. "I just like having her around," he explained, tugging on Bandit's leash.

"I agree," agreed Scully. "I've really missed her too. And I've only known her for a few months. You've known her your entire life."

Kyle nodded, unsure of what to say until he finally decided to change the subject completely. By the time they walked back to the townhouse, they were engrossed in a friendly argument about the possibility of the Exorcist ghost still haunting their neighborhood. Neither of them noticed the figure on the stoop who curtly interrupted their conversation by sneering, "What the fuck is going on?"  
XXXXXX

"Karen," Scully held her breath as she realized her sister-in-law was in front of them, a suitcase at her side. She shouldn't have been surprised that Karen had arrived at their home unannounced, but the events of the past few days had left her whiplashed and unable to think straight. "It's good to see you."

"You're lying," Karen quickly answered. "Don't try arguing with me, Dana. You are a terrible liar."

"Can you please bring Karen's suitcase up to the guest room on the third floor?" Scully asked her stepson. "We'll be there in a minute."

Kyle grabbed the suitcase and hurried into the house, eager to be out of Karen's firing range. Although he did not dislike his aunt, he found her to be incredibly difficult.

As soon as Scully was satisfied that Kyle was out of an earshot, she said, "I don't know what's going on, Karen. Honestly, I don't know any more than what he wrote in that note."

"Who the fuck is that woman Charlie ran off with?" spat Karen, her tears dropping fast and furious. "Were they having an affair? I don't know what to think anymore, Dana."  
XXXXXX

"I hope to God Karen never finds out that it was me who introduced them," Mulder whispered in Scully's ear as he left for work. Karen was sulking in the living room, obviously hungover from the Ambien-and-whiskey cocktail she had made herself the previous evening, before Scully confiscated her medication and hid the alcohol.

Despite throwing him a look that he took to mean she didn't find his comment funny, she leaned in for a kiss. "Good luck," she murmured.

"So this is how you wish me luck in front of the kids?" Mulder whispered, referring to the fact that she had taken advantage of the fact that she was the first one up fora change, waking him up for some leisurely morning sex mere hours after their last coupling. "I wish you were going to be there. It's not going to be the same without you."

Scully nodded, not trusting herself to speak. He deserved this promotion; it had not been lost on her that the only time Mulder had not been climbing the Bureau ladder was during the tenure of their partnership. "I wish I was going to be there too," she truthfully admitted.

Two hours later, Mulder was cooling his heels outside of Kersh's office, hoping that the meeting wouldn't take too long. He was eager to get the formalities over and done with, meet his team, and then figure out what the hell he was doing in the privacy of his own office instead of a busy corridor on the tenth floor. After Kersh's assistant motioned for him to enter the conference room, he was caught completely off guard by the sound and sight of camera flashes and the smattering of applause.

He had been set up.

And he felt like an idiot for believing Kersh's line the previous afternoon about this particular meeting not being a press conference.

He clenched his jaw and planted his feet on the floor, drawing on his nearly forty years of New England WASP manners, politely smiling when the Director nodded his way, and eagerly shaking the hands of the Director, several assistant directors, and the other members of his unit. To his disappointment, the Director continued to share remarks with the press while everyone was still assembled at the front of the room, and a jolt of shock registered through him when he was asked to approach the podium.

To his embarrassment, the Director summed up his early success with the Behavioral Sciences Unit, then glossed through his work on the X-Files, not mentioning the division by its name, instead focusing on Mulder's high solve rate. Just as Mulder thought the Director was winding down his remarks, the older man took it in an unexpected direction. "Special Agent Fox Mulder has been indispensable in closing old cases that others have given up hope of ever solving. His work on the Bedford case is only one example of his talent…"

The pounding of his heart in his chest drowned out the rest of the Director's speech. He swallowed hard, livid that the Bureau had decided to out his involvement with the case—without his consent—as a preemptive measure to being otherwise scooped by the media. It would only be a matter of hours before his partner's name would be connected to the case.

As much as he wanted to storm out of the press conference right then and there, never to return to the Hoover Building, he knew that he was trapped until the meeting's bitter end. Once the Director would finish his talk, there would be another round of handshaking and back-slapping, all to be documented by the press, a dimension of Bureau protocol that Mulder had always hated. As the formalities progressed, Mulder's anxiety grew by leaps and bounds, and by the time he shook his third hand, he didn't much care if an early exit from the room would be frowned upon, so-to-speak.

When he stuck out his hand for the fourth time, Mulder felt completely overpowered. He wasn't able to get a good look at the man whose hand he was shaking, and he felt overpowered by his husky voice. "As long as we are able to keep tabs on you here, Agent Mulder," the stranger said. "You won't have to worry about your sister's safety. Remember, that offer ends as soon as you submit your resignation. We look forward to your continued service with the Bureau."

Mulder stiffened, dazed as the man disappeared into the sea of suits swarming the room. A familiar buzzing emanated from his inner jacket pocket. After fumbling for his phone, he was met with a familiar voice. "It's Charlie. I found something, but you can't tell Dana."


	38. Chapter Thirty Seven

A/N: Sorry for the long wait between chapters-I hope you enjoy!

"I don't keep secrets from your sister," Mulder seethed as he slipped out of the crowded conference room, hoping that he would be able to find some privacy in the stairwell. "How many times are we going to have to go through this?"

"I'm in over my head, Mulder," groaned Charlie, trying to keep his voice down.

"And I told you that back in July. What the fuck have you been thinking? Do you know how lucky you are that the judge didn't call a mistrial?"

"I didn't have a choice," Charlie defended himself.

Truth be told, Charlie had been repeating that line to himself endlessly for the past four months. Since his brother's arrest, he had slowly been unraveling, but everything had come apart from the seams after his first afternoon on the stand.

Charlie had left the courthouse, escorted by Preston to his hotel room with orders to not emerge until the next morning. His attorney had even gone so far as to have cleared out the minibar, along with strict instructions to room service that no alcohol be brought to his room. As Charlie had sulked over his dinner, he heard a rattling knock on his door. Instead of being concerned about the prospect of a visitor, Charlie was grateful to be relieved of his boredom.

He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but he didn't have too much time to think. As soon as he had unchained the latch, he found himself trapped between the door and the wall. "It's you," he gulped.

The blonde eyed him carefully. "You're one for words," she had snorted. "Which is good, because we don't have much time."

As she filled him in on the plan, Charlie had felt himself shrink. "And how do you know I'm going to do this?" he asked once she had finished her monologue.

"I just know," Marita had casually responded with a flippant shrug. "Why do you think your father agreed to do what he did back then?"

"That's the question, isn't it?" Charlie had hoped he did not sound as pathetic as he felt.

"I told you before," Marita had shrugged as she had inched closer to the door. "Your father had a thing for blondes. And you look like your father."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Charlie had snapped his head up, and for the first time during their conversation, he felt as though he had control over his voice.

"It will make sense soon. Just follow my directions, and all will be revealed."

And several days later, it all did make sense.

But he wished he it didn't.

"Are you still there?"

The slight crackle over the phone line distracted Charlie from his reverie. "Yes," he hissed, rubbing his temples, trying not to think of his impending headache.

"Where are you?"

"Greenbrier…Mulder? Are you there?"

"Greenbrier, as in Project Greek Island Greenbrier? The underground bunker in West Virginia?"

"The one and only," responded Charlie. "I need to show you something. But you need to come alone. Please, you can't risk Dana following you."

XXXXXXX

Scully could tell that Nathan had a touch of cabin fever, and took him on a solo trip to the library, hoping that he wouldn't try to convince her to also stop at the park. "No stroller means you have to walk all the way there and all the way back," Scully told her son after he pushed the carriage away.

"I'm big," Nathan solemnly responded, his hazel eyes wide.

In considering the entire spectrum of possible consequences to such a decision, Scully pegged their situation as a relatively low-risk three, and decided not to push back on the stroller issue. It would only be for five blocks, and a nice long walk might make for a longer-than-usual afternoon nap.

Will looked a bit put out for not going with them, but Hannah distracted him with some toys, allowing her and Nathan an easy getaway. Scully once again silently thanked her partner for his foresight in asking Hannah to help them out for a couple of weeks; an outing with the both of them would have been too much for her. "No running," she reminded Nathan after they slowly climbed down the front stairs.

"Nathan," she sternly repeated her warning once they reached the sidewalk. "Don't even think about running. If you do, time out on the stairs for three minutes."

"Okay," he giggled, a surefire sign that he was about to disobey her, which he promptly did.

Four minutes later, they were once again on their way, Scully gripping Nathan's good hand tightly as they crossed the first street. "No," he whined when they bypassed the corner they usually turned on their way to the park.

"No park today, monkey," Scully reminded him. "We're going to the library and then we're going back home for lunch."

Although she and Mulder had done their best to carve out one-on-one time with each of the three kids, walking around with only one toddler still felt a bit strange. They slowly made their way to the library, Nathan constantly becoming distracted by the animals, bugs, and trucks they saw along the way. "On Wednesday, we're going to visit a school. You'll get to play with some other kids and listen to a story and then work on a craft," Scully explained.

"Tomorrow?"

"No, two tomorrows, monkey," corrected Scully, knowing full well that Nathan would be asking about their visit non-stop until then. "Do you think that might be fun?"

"Yes," Nathan answered matter-of-factly, a thoughtful look on his face. "Woofy?"

"Woofy can go too," she assured him.

Nathan seemed content with that answer, and then pointed to a dog across the street. "Bandit?"

"No, Bandit can't go to school with you," Scully patiently explained as Nathan gripped her hand more tightly. "That's why he stays home when Kyle goes to school."

"Toys?"

"There will be toys at school, so you don't have to bring your own. You'll be able to play with lots of kids, like you do at the park."

"Will?"

"No, Will won't be there. He'll go to school too, just with kids who are his age." Scully did her best to not choke up at the reminder of both boys growing so quickly. At least she had a couple of more months to get used to the thought.

Nathan enjoyed showing off his cast to everyone they saw at the library, explaining that he 'broked' his arm and was very brave, which made everyone fawn over him even more. When one mother asked Nathan how it happened, he innocently told her that he had been flying before scampering towards a display of picture books.

Scully kept her eye on Nathan, watching him interact with a couple of children about his age, as another mother began to talk to her about her son's broken ankle, a result of jumping down a staircase.

"Mine!"

"No!"

Her shoulders tensed as she saw Nathan stomp his foot, but then unclenched when she saw him give a book to a little girl in pigtails. Both children looked upset, prompting their mothers to rush forward.

"Mine!" Nathan cried, pointing to the book that the other child held.

"Yes, we have that book at home, Nathan," Scully softly explained. "But this one belongs to the library so kids who don't have it at home can read it."

She turned to the little girl. "Nathan loves Curious George," she explained.

"Monkeys," Nathan helpfully added, his eyes not leaving the book that violet had clutched tightly in her hands.

The other mother chimed in, "Violet, do you want to show Nathan your favorite book?"

Within a few moments, both children were sitting on a brightly colored rug, more or less getting along. "Sorry about that," Scully awkwardly apologized. "I sometimes have to remind him about sharing."

"Violet's a biter," the other mother explained casually. "I'm sure they are equally matched."

Scully tried not to visibly react, relieved that she wouldn't have to worry about that particular bad habit during Nathan's preschool visit. She relaxed when it became apparent that Nathan was behaving himself, and by the time they left the library, she decided that she was not as worried about Nathan's preschool visit as she had been earlier that day.

XXXXXXX

"Agent Mulder." Skinner's stern words echoed down the hall. "A word?"

Mulder could tell by the tone of his former supervisor's voice that the older man was trying to keep his cool. He inwardly groaned, not wanting to be held up in order to receive a reprimand for his early exit from the press conference. "Sir?"

Skinner looked around, making sure that there was no one in the immediate area to overhear their conversation. "You were blindsided in there, Mulder, and it wasn't right," Skinner said. "You are well within your rights to make a big stink, but I'm urging you not to do so. The upper brass are aware that you are lawyered up, and they will work with you to resolve your concerns."

The confusion hit Mulder with full force. He was so distracted by Charlie's phone call that he failed to think about the consequences of the press conference. "I don't care if they go after me, but they can't go anywhere near the kids," Mulder growled.

"We'll be prepared to do whatever is needed," Skinner responded. "They know that it's only a matter of hours before Scully's name is leaked to the press." Something wasn't quite right with the younger agent, but he couldn't pinpoint why exactly, and was bracing himself for a Mulder meltdown.

"And that's very nice and very easy for the director to say," interrupted Mulder, glancing at his watch. It was a good five hour drive to West Virginia without factoring traffic, so he needed to leave as soon as possible. "I have to get out of here."

"The director would like to meet with you to make sure that there are no misunderstandings, so to speak," warned Skinner.

"There's nothing to clear up as far as I can tell. He made his decision," shrugged Mulder, brushing past Skinner before stopping. He turned around and lowered his voice. "But If you want to make it up to me, there is a way in which you can help me out."

XXXXXXXXX

Nathan showed no signs of tiring as they walked home from their trip to the library. "Did you like playing with Violet?" Scully asked as they approached their block.

"No," Nathan scowled. "She's yucky."

Grateful that her son had kept that thought to himself until they were alone, Scully bit back a smile and told him, "That's not a nice thing to say, Nathan."

He chose not to respond to his mother, instead tugging her hand to point in the direction of the park. "Not today, monkey," repeated Scully with a sigh, not wanting to think of the myriad of accidents waiting to happen. She knew that a broken arm would not stop Nathan from trying to climb the jungle gym or sit on a swing, but she also kept in mind that he would still need an outlet for all of his excess energy. She hoped that she would be able to find a solution sooner rather than later.

Will greeted them at the door, his chubby fingers in his mouth, repeating,"Dadda!"

"What's going on, bullfrog?" Scully asked, bending down to Will's level. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hannah emerge from the kitchen.

"Fox was on TV," Hannah glumly explained, wringing a dishrag in her hands.

Scully's eyes widened. "What?" She stood up, barely feeling Will clutch her leg.

"There was a clip on the morning news," continued Hannah, leaning against the entryway. "They announced his task force."

"What else?" Scully could sense that Hannah was holding something back.

"They mentioned his work on your brother's case."

Hannah's words barely left her mouth before Scully rushed into the kitchen, fumbling for the phone, frantically dialing Mulder's number. "Pick up, pick up, pick up," she hummed to herself, flinching when she reached his voicemail, leaving him a message to call her back as soon as possible.

"Mommy," Nathan called out, waving this cast-clad arm. "I wanna talk."

"Daddy didn't answer, monkey," Scully breathlessly answered, mentally running down the list of reasons as to why Mulder would be unable to answer the phone. The most logical choice-that he was behind closed doors with the director-was also the one that concerned her the most. "You can talk to him when he calls us back."

Before she could regroup, the shrill ring of the phone crackled in the air. "Mulder?" she immediately answered.

"Just me," Preston's deep voice rumbled in her ear. "Well, we knew this scenario was a possibility."

"Have you talked to him?" Scully asked, cutting to the chase.

"Not yet," Preston responded. "You know your name is going to be announced in a few hours."

"I don't care about that," she answered with resignation in her voice.

"We can release a statement."

"That's ridiculous," protested Scully. "I have nothing to say. There is nothing to say, really."

"With all due respect, Dana, this is more my area of expertise," argued Preston. "I'm making some phone calls, calling in some favors, and I'll be over later."

Frustrated, Scully ended the call. As much as she wanted to reach Mulder first, she needed to explain what was happening to her stepson before he found out elsewhere. Glancing at the kitchen clock, she realized she couldn't wait any longer, and punched in the number to Kyle's school.

It probably would have been easier to get a hold of the Bureau director at home on a Sunday morning. She kept reminding herself that the problem she was experiencing was a good one to have, in that the security measures were for Kyle's benefit. However, she had mixed feelings about the grilling she received. Yes, she was his stepmother; yes, his father had custody but was unavailable to call himself; no, his biological mother was not available; no, she had not yet been granted guardianship; yes, she was listed on the emergency contact form. By the time she had been given the appropriate permission to speak with Kyle, she was told she would have to wait for a call back, as per the parent-student handbook, he could not be disrupted during class time.

Despite her fervent hope that she would get in contact with Mulder before speaking to the eleven-year-old, it didn't happen. When she finished telling Kyle what she did know, she felt practically embarrassed that all she could say was that his father had been on the news. "I know," he responded, sounding annoyed more than anything. "My friend saw it."

"Kyle, I'm so sorry you had to find out that way," offered Scully, unsure of what to exactly say. "I'll pick you up today, okay?"

She bit back her frustration as she ended the call, leaning against the kitchen counter, her face in her hands for a long moment before pushing through the irritation. By the time she set the phone on its cradle and turned her attention to the boys, she had a warm smile on her face.

XXXXXXXXX

"I figured you would ask me about what happened instead of ignoring it like everyone else," Kyle commented, grim-faced. He kept tapping the ground with his foot, his impatience and frustration obvious. The news had spread like wildfire that morning; Dave happened to see the press conference while in his orthodontist's office waiting room. He managed to find Kyle before third period, and break the news to him before the rumors started rumbling during lunch. So, it wasn't a total surprise when the dean's assistant was waiting outside the classroom to drag him to the school office, where he returned Dana's phone call. He found it hard to pay attention to what she had said, as he was distracted by the prying eyes of the administrative staff, barely registering his stepmother's insistence that she would be picking him up from school that afternoon.

"Natalie told me I should ask you head on because that's the best way to deal with an awkward situation," chirped Chloe resolutely as she absentmindedly pulled at her backpack straps.

"Well, I don't know anything," Kyle sighed. "Dana just said she would pick me up from school this afternoon. But I don't really care about it."

"So what's bothering you? Something's up."

Kyle hesitated. "You can't tell anybody," he began. "Not even Natalie."

"I know how to keep a secret, Kyle. My dad is a spy."

"A real spy would never tell their kid what they really did for work," scoffed Kyle, unable to hide his amusement over Chloe's misstep.

"You suck," Chloe huffed, digging her heels into the ground.

After a moment, Kyle let his friend out of her misery. "My uncle's missing."

"Which one?"

Kyle rolled his eyes, annoyed that Chloe was being so difficult, until he realized that she wasn't trying to make fun of him. "Charlie," he softly responded, looking down on the ground, kicking the gravel at his feet.

"I'm sorry," she stammered, not knowing what else to say.

"Remember. You can't tell anyone," Kyle warned her as he spotted Dana's SUV enter the school parking lot and began to walk away.

"I won't," Chloe called out. "I promise."

Kyle didn't give Chloe a second glance as he climbed into the car. He failed to meet Dana's gaze, instead looking straight out the windshield. It took him a few moments to realize that the car wasn't moving. "Kyle," Dana said, nervously tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. "Kyle, look at me, please."

Kyle reluctantly turned his head. "What?" he snapped.

"There are a few news vans on our street," she continued. "Preston is doing what he can to make sure that they don't sit in front of our house or take pictures of you and your brothers."

"I don't care," the eleven-year-old insisted, kicking the glove compartment. "Seriously. It doesn't matter to me."

"Fine," Scully tiredly responded, turning the key in the ignition. She was at her wits' end; she still hadn't been able to reach Mulder, and was beginning to grow worried. She dreaded the question that she knew Kyle would ask: when would he be able to speak to his father?

"I don't understand why you care about this and not at all about Charlie," Kyle exploded.

Immediately, Scully pulled over and stopped the car. "Why don't you think that I care about Charlie?" she asked, trying to keep her tone even. She knew that she only had a small window in getting through to Kyle, and the last thing she wanted was for him to retreat further into himself.

"Because you don't," he protested, the frustration brimming in his voice.

"I do, Kyle, I promise you," Scully softly responded, doing her best to not raise her voice and further fan the flames. "Besides you and your brothers and dad, he's my only family left."

"So why don't you care that he disappeared?" sniffed Kyle.

"It's not that I don't care," she answered, searching for the right words. She hated how self-conscious she became when she needed to say something important without a lot of time to prepare. Mulder was the eloquent one, always ready with a perfectly formed answer that cut to the heart of the matter, while her mouth was constantly playing catchup with her thoughts.

"Charlie is a grownup, he's an adult. He decided that he needed to leave, and I don't understand why, but I need to trust that he made the right decision for himself. I'm worried about him, but it's out of my control. I know I don't talk about it very much, but I do think about him all of the time."

They sat together in silence for a couple of minutes. Scully only turned on the ignition when she was certain that Kyle was no longer going to speak.

XXXXXXXXX

He wasn't sure why he had lied to Chloe, and then started an argument with Dana. Since the previous afternoon, a feeling of dread had settled in the pit of his stomach, weighing him down. It had eased up a bit that morning, but then had promptly returned once he learned of his stepmother's phone call. He felt a bit off-kilter since then, so when Chloe pressed him on the issue, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. Confusingly enough, after saying those words out loud, he realized that he may have been more worried about Charlie than he initially realized. And _that_ meant there were two things about which he was anxious.

But most of all, Kyle was worried about his father.

Since school started and his father went back to work, Kyle had wondered off-and-on about his dad's job. He traveled a lot, but always made sure to call him every night. Sometimes their conversations were really short, other times they were able to talk for a long time. The most frustrating part for him was when his father finally came home. Kyle liked it best when his dad returned while he was at school; that usually meant he had already spent time with his brothers, freeing him up to take him and Bandit on a long walk after reading Nathan and Will a bedtime story.

After they returned, he would finish his homework at the kitchen table, listening to his father tease Dana as they cleaned up. Even though he always knew that at this point he lost his father's full attention, he was at least across the room, and would be there again in the morning.

Other times, his father would arrive home cranky and tired right when he was headed to bed. Kyle was usually able to stay up past his regular bedtime, and at least have the opportunity to share small updates on school and basketball and the puppy. Those late night arrivals were usually followed by difficult mornings, in that those were the times in which Nathan became clingy, not wanting to see their father leave for work.

But the worst was when his father came home over the weekend. During those times, Kyle felt invisible. His dad was always so focused on his brothers, and by the time they went to bed, he was really exhausted although he always denied it. They would start to watch a movie, or maybe a baseball game, and he would pretend to not notice that his dad was half-sleeping on the couch. After the incident over the summer when Dana apologized to him for interfering with his time alone with his father, she had never again watched TV with them without an invitation.

The problem was that his father always seemed to ask her to join them (well, maybe _not_ always, but at least half the time). At first Kyle was always annoyed, but then at some point-he didn't remember quite when-he stopped noticing. But sometimes, when he turned to his father to ask him a question, or to point something out, he would see him and Dana wrapped around one another on the couch, and the would be reminded that he was always sharing his father with someone.

Kyle tried his best not to think too much about it, but since his conversation with his father the previous day about his parents' divorce and his dad's new job, all of that resentment just flooded through him, making it difficult to think. The phone call he received from Dana that morning further reminded him that his father's attention was split in many directions. He actually thought it was kind of cool that his dad was on TV, and that everyone knew he was really good at his job.

But what he _really_ wanted was for his father to have made that phone call instead of his stepmother.

Hot tears pricked his eyes, and he barely noticed Bandit licking them off his face. When he realized that Dana was coming down the stairs, he quickly wiped away the excess moisture, and sat up on his seat, pretending to be reading his science textbook. When he realized that she was headed towards the kitchen, he put it down, hoping to control his emotions before anyone tried to speak with him.

The next thing he knew, Will was at his side, looking up at him with his matching wide hazel eyes. Immediately, the eighteen-month-old climbed the couch, calling Kyle's name. Instead of batting him away, Kyle humored him, pulling both of them up to seating positions. Once he was settled on his big brother's lap, Will gave him a bear hug, resting his head on his chest. Like Bandit, Will always seemed to have a second sense as to when he was having a bad day.

Kyle decided that if he had to share his father with anyone, it would be with Will.

XXXXXXXXX

Mulder hated himself for having to drag Skinner into his mess, but he needed to do everything in his power to shield Scully and to make sure she retained plausible deniability regarding her brother's case. He had to weigh this against his promise that he wouldn't keep anything from her again.

And that meant he would have to trust Skinner.

He knew that his former boss was baffled by the message he was asked to deliver, but stopped short of questioning it, merely nodding when Mulder asked whether he would help. The assistant director also promised to cover for Mulder at the Bureau until the next afternoon, buying the younger agent some extra time to accomplish what he needed.

Mulder just hoped that it would be enough.

After a quick stop at the Gunmen's lair, he was on his way to Greenbrier in a Bureau-issued Taurus, having left his own car at headquarters. He knew that it wasn't much of a cover, but he didn't want to be traveling in his own vehicle. His cell was turned off, and a burner phone, courtesy of Langley, was sitting on the passenger seat.

As he drove to West Virginia, Mulder mentally ran through everything he knew about Project Greek Island: how it was a working Cold War bunker, hiding in plain sight at an upscale resort, designed to accommodate up to a thousand people in the event of a nuclear attack. Mulder thought about the timeline that Scully had painstakingly created, which chronicled her father's postings with political events, wondering how it may have overlapped with Greenbrier's establishment in the late 1950s through its decommission in the early 1990s.

Had Captain Scully been to Greenbriar? When had he learned of the bunker's existence? Why had Marita sent Charlie there? Why was Charlie asking him to get there so quickly? All Mulder could do was just hope this wasn't a trap. Taking a quick look at the time, Mulder pushed his foot on the gas pedal. The sooner he got there, the sooner he could get back to his family.

XXXXXXXXX

Scully internally groaned when she once again heard the chirpy tone of Mulder's voicemail message, hoping the kids wouldn't pick up on her frustration. She quickly put down the phone, not wanting the children to ask again whether they could speak with their father.

Preston had issued a stern public statement that reiterated his client was unavailable for comment. Privately, he had warned several news outlets that there would be hell to pay if they published photos of the children. The Bureau did its part by posting agents on their street and in front of the house, but not before its own press release that confirmed Special Agent Dana Katherine Scully, MD, was currently on personal leave, but had been an active agent with the Bureau until the previous June.

There was plenty to keep her busy, as the house was bustling: Preston and one of his underlings were working at the kitchen table, while Nathan colored beside them. Hannah was making dinner, while Karen watched with a glass of wine in hand. Kyle was sulking in the living room, allegedly working on his homework. Will was beside him, playing with toys, Kyle having insisted that his youngest brother wasn't distracting him. Scully was caught a little off-guard, as Kyle usually begged off playing with them with the excuse that he needed to get his school work done in silence.

Amid everything that was happening, Scully was most concerned about the eleven-year-old. Since they had returned home from school, he had only spoken to Hannah and Will, and Scully knew that he would begin to wonder about Mulder's whereabouts once dinner time hit. Just as she was about to ask Hannah for some advice, one of the agents entered the house. "Sorry to interrupt," he nervously apologized. "But Assistant Director Skinner would like to see you for a moment."

Scully nodded, knowing full well that she wouldn't be able to refuse. Skinner appeared a moment later, acknowledging everyone in the kitchen with a nod. "Thanks for seeing me," he awkwardly began, making it evident that he hadn't expected such a motley crew to be assembled in the Sculder kitchen. "Could we speak in private for a moment?"

A chill ran up Scully's spine. She was unsure of how to answer, looking to Preston for advice. He gave her a slight nod, and she suggested that they decamp to Mulder's office to talk, not realizing that Kyle was within earshot. He quietly followed them down the hall, Will unsteadily running behind him.

Kyle shushed his younger brother, as he stood flush with the wall, hoping to overhear enough of the adults' conversation to find out what was _really _happening. He knew that Skinner's presence was a sign that something was not quite right.

"What is it sir?" Scully asked as soon as they entered the office.

"Mulder asked me to tell you something," Skinner dug his hands in his pockets as deeply as he could. "He said that he needed to find some sneakers. Converse sneakers, to be exact."

Scully nodded, thanking him for the message. "Is there anything else, sir?" she asked.

"Just that you might want to get in touch with Jeremy," answered Skinner, scratching the back of his head. "May I ask, Agent Scully, whether this makes any sense to you?"

"No," Scully shook her head with a poker face. "To be perfectly honest, no. But thank you for letting me know. I appreciate it."

Kyle jumped away from the door, half dragging Will back to the living room. He thought he had heard the entire conversation, but was confused. Sneakers? Who was Jeremy? He picked up his pencil and continued with his math homework, pretending to concentrate on algebra when he was instead wondering about what was happening around him.

XXXXXXXXX

"What did he want?" Karen asked as she guzzled her Chardonnay.

"Just to apologize for all of this nonsense," Scully shrugged, giving the tomato sauce sitting on the stove range a stir. "And to mention that the Director apologizes for having Mulder work late on his first day."

"Hmmph," scoffed Karen. Scully sneaked a peek at her sister-in-law to see if she was buying the excuse. "I don't like him."

Relieved by Karen's disinterest, and assured that Nathan was keeping busy with his crayons, Scully slipped down the hall and into the home office. She rushed over to the wall safe, punching in the code and pulling out a cell phone and charger before quickly shutting the door. She slipped a new SIM card into the phone as it began to charge.

They had devised the codeword Jeremy a few years earlier, only to be used in the event that one of them needed to be off the grid while the other had to keep up appearances that everything was business as usual. It was an anagram of sorts, containing the first name initials of the Lone Gunmen-John, Ringo, Melvin. It meant Mulder would not be answering his phone until he was absolutely certain that everyone would be safe. If he needed to contact her, it would be through the never-before-used cell phone. Otherwise, the Gunmen could leave a message at a drop, but communication might not be immediate.

The other part of Skinner's message-the bit about the Converse sneakers-signaled to Scully why Mulder was leaving.

He was finding Charlie.

All of those Sunday mornings spent in bed, working on _New York Times _crossword puzzles, had been put to good use, Scully mused. It had taken a couple of moments, but she figured out the clue: Converse. Chuck Taylor. Charles. Charlie. A deceptively simple code.

A part of her wanted to be angry that Mulder had gone off on his own, without saying a word. But to her at least, any feelings of anger couldn't quite be justified. There was still a chance that Charlie would be called back to the stand, and if he wasn't found, she could be compelled by the court to share any and all information she had regarding his whereabouts. There also was the rather remote possibility that she could be called as a witness.

If Mulder had gone to the trouble to slip her a message through Skinner, it meant that he hadn't intended to lie to her; that he just needed to take immediate action. For her own sake, she needed to trust that he made the right decision.

Scully's thoughts turned to her sister-in-law; Karen was down in DC to find answers, relying on Charlier's colleagues at the local branch of his company to trace him electronically. She had plans to get back to Boston the next day, not wanting to leave her kids without either parent for too long. Scully knew better than to clue Karen in to Mulder's mission, but she wished she was able to offer her sister-in-law some tangible information.

She stared at the charging phone for a moment, turning its ringer as high as it could go. She knew Mulder would only dial that number under extreme circumstances, and she tried to decide whether it would ever ring with good news. She rearranged a few items back in the safe, and left the room.

XXXXXXXXX

When he saw his stepmother return to the office, Kyle knew that something was afoot. As much as he wanted to sneak into that room in order to snoop, he knew he needed to wait, probably until Dana was putting his brothers to bed. By that point, Hannah would probably be busy reading one of her mysteries, and Karen would probably not even notice if he left the living room for an extended period of time.

"Aren't we waiting for Dad?" Kyle asked as he sat down at the kitchen table.

"He's working late tonight. That's why Skinner dropped by-he's in some meetings," responded Scully, trying to get Will to use his Kermit the Frog fork. Instead, the toddler preferred to eat his ziti with his hands, giggling whenever he mushed up food, making a small mess.

"I bet he thinks it's Play-Doh," Kyle pointed out, not surprised by his stepmother's answer.

"You're probably right," Scully agreed, turning her attention to Nathan who was messily eating his own dinner.

Kyle impatiently waited as Dana and Hannah herded his brothers up the stairs for their baths, while Karen started to clean up their dinner. He dashed into the living room to pick up a notebook and pen, and then ran down the hall into the office. Not knowing how much time he had, Kyle decided to start with the desk and then move to the filing cabinets. He had snooped in those places enough times to know whether a new item had been added to the mess, or if another item had disappeared.

He quickly pawed through the pens and office supplies that littered the first drawer, but spent more time exploring the other two. There were some boring documents-invoices from the contractors who worked on the townhouse at the summer, as well as copies of the permits they obtained. He then went through some other information about local preschools, which were covered in notes with Dana's neat handwriting, and then some of the paperwork and tuition statements from his own school.

The bottom drawer on the left was the most interesting. He pulled out a thick file labeled _Timeline_. He quickly scanned the pages, which appeared to be notes arranged by date. He wasn't quite sure what it all pertained to, but he once again recognized Dana's handwriting. This seemed promising, but there was no way he would be able to sneak it out of the room at the moment. He put it back, and started to flip through the rest of the folders. He found on bearing his father's name, which contained notes and statements from his past few hospital stays. Knowing that his time was running out, Kyle flipped through the contents even more quickly. He saw similar folders for Dana, himself and Will. He then slid over to the other side of the desk, which housed insurance and tax documents.

Kyle decided to risk looking through the Timeline folder again. When he realized that this contained information about his stepmother's past, he knew that he needed to read over all of it. But the thumping on the stairs reminded him that he needed to get out of the room as quickly as possible. He put away the folder, and grabbed his notebook and pen, and ducked into the bathroom before anyone could see him.

Crouching over the sink counter, Kyle scribbled everything he could remember about the items he looked through. Like his father, he had a photographic memory, but preferred to write things down in order to find a pattern. For his second trip to the desk, he needed to double-check a couple of things: he hadn't found a folder with Nathan's name on it, and he was pretty sure that he had seen some of Dana's medical records in the Timeline folder. Had she (or his father) not put everything in the right place the last time they went through the contents? He decided that it was one of those things which might mean nothing, but also might be incredibly important.

His biggest challenge would be that the office door was often locked. That was partly because his father stored his service weapon in a sealed strongbox located in the wall safe, and also because his dad was paranoid that someone would innocently go through a casefile that was particularly disturbing or gruesome. He walked into the kitchen, ignoring Karen, who was busy loading the dishwasher, and headed towards the laundry room. There he saw some keys on a peg board, and sure enough, one was hanging from the hook labeled _Office_. All he needed to do was to wait for everyone to go to sleep, and then he could easily sneak into the room to get to the files.

It sounded like a simple task, but Kyle knew that there were a zillion things that could go wrong, and he would need to act as carefully as possible.

XXXXXXXXX

Darkness had fallen by the time Mulder had made it to Greenbriar. The Gunmen had marked up a map that indicated some of the possible bunker entry points on the grounds of the estate. He wasn't sure how helpful Charlie's directions would be, but once he got his bearings, he was able to locate their meetup spot relatively quickly.

"In here," Charlie whispered, his voice hoarse. He pulled Mulder into what looked like a gardening shed; after bolting the door shut, he sidled over a metal shelving unit, motioning for Mulder to approach. As he neared the wall, he saw that there was a trap door, and followed Charlie into a tunnel and down a ladder.

Once they hit the ground, Mulder realized that there was enough room for him to stand up straight. Twenty meters away, they turned, and Mulder was blinded by fluorescent lighting. He could have been in any office building in America, but he was actually in an underground structure that connected to one of the most exclusive hotels on the East Coast.

"Marita got me in," Charlie quietly explained, hustling Mulder through a complicated series of twists and turns. "But if I leave the grounds, I won't be able to regain access."

They hit a deadend. Charlie placed his palm on the window of the door they faced, and within seconds the double doors opened, and then quickly shut behind them once they crossed the threshold. To Mulder, it was as though he had walked into a cleaner duplicate of Langley's computer lair. There were half a dozen monitors, a close circuit television, and a handful of computer towers scattered along the far wall. The other three were covered with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and there were several lamps sitting on the conference table in the center of the room.

"How did you get in here?" Mulder asked, nodding at the key card Charlie slid into his back pocket.

"Marita," shrugged Charlie, a small smile playing at his lips. His expression quickly turned more serious as he sat down at the workstation.

"You took a big risk in calling me on my cell phone," Mulder tested his brother-in-law; he couldn't quite tell whether Charlie was taking the situation as seriously as he should.

Charlie rolled his eyes. "I used a scrambler," her argued. "And I knew that you would be overly cautious in getting here. I just hope that you didn't tell my sister where you went."

Mulder sank down on a chair. "Haven't talked to her," he stated. "So what is this big piece of news, Charlie? Or are you wasting everyone's time? You do know that your wife is convinced you're having an affair."

"I'll explain everything when this is over," Charlie rubbed his jaw. "She'll understand."

After punching in keyboard commands, a digital photo appeared on one of the monitors. Eerily enough, it was a photo of the room in which they currently sat. "This was taken in October 1960," he explained, enlarging the photo.

"Before the presidential election," responded Mulder impatiently.

"Which means that my father was became in this whole mess during the Eisenhower administration, and quite possibly before," sighed Charlie.

Sure enough, William Scully was seated at the table, in full uniform. Mulder quickly spotted that cigarette smoking son-of-a-bitch, as well as the so-called well manicured man. "What else do you have, Charlie? We've seen similar photos before. What made you sound the alarm this time?"

"I have recordings," Charlie quietly answered. "Mulder, my father was assigned to infiltrate the Russian government. He talked about his postings with this group. I can't piece together much more, at least at this point. I need to go to Moscow to check out some stuff. Marita can get me on my a charter flight tomorrow night. All you need to do is to take me as far as the Virginia border, and I can get myself to JFK from there. Mulder, I need answers. You of all people should understand that."

Mulder chewed on his lip, staring hard at the younger man. He wondered whether his overriding feeling of complete and utter frustration was anything like what Scully dealt with whenever he ran off the rails with another theory. "And you really expect me not to tell anyone what you're doing?"

"We both know that if Bill's attorneys think that either Karen or Dana have a clue as to where I am, that they wouldn't be threatened to be found to be in contempt? You're in the clear at this point-they aren't going to risk calling you to the stand."

Mulder hated that Charlie had a point. "The only thing I can promise you is that I'll do whatever I can to prevent that from happening to either Dana or Karen," Mulder reluctantly agreed. "But why do you trust Marita?"

"Why did you?" retorted Charlie.

Touche, Mulder thought. Touche.

XXXXXXXXX

When Kyle heard Dana slowly make her way down the stairs, he pretended to be engrossed in his schoolwork. "Your Dad probably isn't going to make it home tonight," she said to him.

A feeling of relief washed through him. His father not being home would make it even easier for him to sneak into the office. "Okay," he shrugged, turning the page of his science textbook.

"I'm going to make us some tea," Hannah excused herself from the room, setting her book down on her chair.

Kyle groaned. That was a not-so-subtle hint that Dana wanted to speak with him, which she did. "I wanted to ask you to finish our conversation from this afternoon," she said, her voice shaking slightly.

As much as he didn't want to have a heart-to-heart conversation with his stepmother (or even a fake one at that), he needed to see if he could use this situation to his advantage. "I shouldn't have yelled at you," he apologized. "I know you care about Uncle Charlie. I just-I just needed something to be mad about."

He could tell just by looking at her eyes that he had surprised her. "We're all going to be okay, Kyle. Maybe not today or even tomorrow, but things will settle down soon."

"What kind of case did Dad have?" he asked.

"I'm not sure. Skinner couldn't say," she said. "But he'll be home as soon as he can. I'm going to help Hannah with that tea."

XXXXXXXXX

Kyle waited until midnight before sneaking down the stairs, avoiding the creaky floorboards and tip-toeing past his brothers' rooms in an effort not to wake anyone. Bandit had tried to follow him, but was distracted by the cozy warmth of the blanket that Kyle tucked over him before he left the room. He didn't turn on any lights, causing him to fumble for the key and flashlight in the laundry room, and nearly knock over a kitchen stool. Only when he was finally settled on the office floor did he turn on his flashlight, and make his way through the files in the second drawer of the desk.

He couldn't find a folder with Nathan's name on it, which seemed weird to him. Will's file contained information about his ENT surgery, and had some other pieces of paper from a pediatrician's office in South Carolina. His own file was a bit thicker, with information from his doctor's office in Manhattan and a copy of his dental records. Dana's was definitely the largest; some of the pages looked old, and almost ripped when he tried to flip through them. He slid that file back in its place in the drawer, hoping no one would notice if it was damaged.

That left the Timeline folder. He drew a big breath and set it down on the floor. He tried to look over it quickly, but ended up becoming absorbed in its contents, and so he began to read from the beginning. Once his watch flipped to 1:00 AM, he knew he had to get to bed. Reluctantly, he put everything back, remembering to lock the door behind him. He quickly and quietly returned the key and flashlight to their places in the laundry room, and carefully made his way up the stairs.

Just as he was walking past his brothers' bedrooms, he heard Will's cries through the closed door to his nursery. He saw Dana emerge from the master bedroom. "Did Will wake you?" she yawned.

"I had to go to the bathroom anyway," Kyle shrugged, following her into Will's room.

"What's wrong, bullfrog?" Scully asked, pulling him out of the crib before sitting on the rocker, Will in her lap. "Did you have a bad dream?"

Will continued to sob, and she could barely make out him saying 'daddy' over and over. "You're okay, sweetheart," Scully comforted him.

After a couple of moments, Will opened his eyes and un-scrunched his face. He reached out to Kyle, who was awkwardly standing next to his younger brother, unsure of what to do. "Do you want to try? I think he wants you to hold him." Scully asked.

Kyle nodded, and leaned over to pick up his brother, who was still clutching Doggy. "Don't be scared," Kyle said, holding him close.

Scully got up from her seat, and motioned Kyle to sit down with the baby. Will settled down, and within a few minutes, he was back asleep. "You certainly have the magic touch," Scully smiled, gently placing Will back down in his crib. "Thanks for helping."

"I don't mind," Kyle said before he scaled the staircase up to his room. It wasn't until he finally drifted off to sleep that he realized it had been the first time he hadn't lied all night.

Meanwhile, Scully stood over Will's crib, watching him sleep. Putting both boys to bed earlier that evening had been more difficult than usual, as Mulder hadn't been there to read them their bedtime stories. Will in particular had been a challenge, fighting sleep while clutching Doggy and the giraffe. She rearranged his blanket, sadly smiling at her youngest son, praying that his father was safe. The cell phone tucked in the back pocket of her pajamas felt heavy, and all she could do was hope that it wouldn't ring.

XXXXXXXXX

Kyle stumbled down the stairs the next morning, cringing when heard the front doorbell ring. Although he had managed to drift off to sleep fairly easily, he had awoken during another bad dream, and hadn't been able to get back to sleep. He hadn't had a nightmare in several weeks, but it followed the same pattern as the others; he was a little older than his current age, and his father could not be found. He had searched for him everywhere, and by the time panic settled in, he had woken up in a cold sweat.

What made this dream different from its previous incarnations was that he was carrying a baby girl, and for some reason, that gave him a strange feeling.

As he had stared up at his bedroom ceiling, looking at his glow-in-the-dark stars, worrying about his dream, a thought came to mind. An incredibly obvious thought.

The safe. If there were anything to be kept secret in the house, wouldn't it belong in the safe, and not in the back of a desk drawer? While he still wanted to go through (and understand) everything in the Timeline folder, he knew that he absolutely needed to open the wall safe. But how? Perhaps Chloe could help-at the very least, she should be able to provide some guidance.

"I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news," Preston bellowed after shutting front door behind him, jarring Kyle back to reality. "But I wanted to forewarn you."

He held up a newspaper, extending his hand in Dana's direction. From his perch on the stairs, Kyle couldn't read the text, but he could see his stepmother's face on the front cover, staring back at him.


	39. Chapter Thirty Eight

**Happy reading!**

"Does it mention the kids?" Scully folded her arms in front of her, refusing to take the newspaper Preston extended.

"Just that there are three. No names, no ages. It doesn't even say whether they are boys. But Dana, this story-" Preston trailed off when he saw Kyle on the staircase.

"That's the most important thing," replied Scully. "But we do need to know the gist of the article before Kyle goes to school. Unfortunately, he's the one who will probably be dealing with it the most."

"The story is a little, umm, nasty," began Preston warily, unsure of whether he wanted to continue the conversation in front of the eleven-year-old.

"Let me guess," Scully icily responded. "I'm the ungrateful, rebellious, gold-digging daughter of an all-American family who joined the FBI on a whim, against the wishes of her parents, and then promptly seduced and married her boss, who is from a prominent family? A woman who suddenly felt the need to no longer work a month before her brother was arrested for the crime she never noticed he committed?"

"That's the short version," Preston admitted, secretly impressed with his client's savviness. "Any questions?"

"Dad's really your boss?" Kyle asked incredulously. "I thought you were partners."

"Not in the widely understood definition of the term," Scully muttered, mostly to herself. She then turned her attention to Kyle. "I'm sorry you're getting dragged into this again. If anyone gives you a hard time, just try to ignore them. This is not worth fighting about."

"Dana, we need to talk," Preston persisted, following her into the kitchen.

"Mulder's not here, so I have the school run this morning," she sleepily explained, fiddling with the coffee pot. "You are welcome to join us. Hannah will stay with the little monsters."

"Sure," Preston nodded, knowing that it would be the only way he would be able to get some face time with her. He gratefully accepted a cup of coffee as she bustled around the kitchen, deftly slicing some apples for the boys before fumbling around the refrigerator in search of orange juice. After about thirty seconds, he realized that Will was staring up at him from his perch on his highchair. "Umm...I think he wants something," the normally eloquent attorney flustered, hoping he wouldn't have to touch the baby's sticky hands.

Without even turning her head, Scully instructed him to spill some Cheerios onto Will's tray. "After he eats, he'll start talking up a storm, so enjoy the peace and quiet. Kyle, we have ten minutes. Do you have your science book? I think I saw it in the living room a few minutes ago."

"I wanna go," Nathan kept repeating with a pout, ignoring his cereal and fruit. Kyle dashed out of the room, knocking over a chair, returning a minute later with a messy pile of textbooks, looseleaf paper, and some chewed up pencils, the dog barking and running after him. He dumped everything into an already overstuffed backpack before cleaning up everything he had knocked to the ground.

"We're going to school tomorrow, monkey," Scully explained, kneeling next to Nathan so they were at eye level. "And I need you to stay with Hannah. I know she wants you to teach her the alphabet game we played yesterday. If everyone is on their best behavior, guess what we'll do later today?"

"The park?"

"Yes, we'll go to the park, but only if everyone is good for Hannah."

"I'm good, I'm good, I'm good," Nathan loudly rushed, wide-eyed.

"Keep it up, monkey," she said, kissing the crown of his head. "I'll be back soon. Now, say goodbye to your big brother."

Kyle rolled his eyes as Nathan dramatically repeated 'bye-bye,' while Will began to talk with his mouth full, resulting in Cheerios spraying everywhere. The one-year-old immediately burst into tears when his mother cleaned up his face with a damp cloth, sending the dog into another frenzy of barking. Preston winced at the noise that engulfed the kitchen, still dazed by the sheer amount of chaos he had witnessed over the past quarter hour.

"It's usually a lot worse," Kyle explained, as though he knew exactly what Preston was thinking. "If Dad was here, Nathan would be on the floor throwing a temper tantrum."

Preston stopped himself from inquiring about Mulder's exact whereabouts; he sensed that something wasn't quite right, and he knew better than to ask the sixth grader. Minutes later, his patience was further tested when Kyle introduced him to Colin as his attorney. As soon as the kids _finally _clambered out of the SUV in the school parking lot, Preston immediately asked Scully about her partner.

"He's working," she smoothly replied, not batting an eye. If it hadn't been for her slightly clenched jaw, Preston would have believed her.

"Anything I should know?"

"No. So what did you want to talk about?"

"I wanted to advise you as to your options. You have them, Dana," Preston reminded her.

"Unless it starts negatively affecting Kyle, or they end up printing the kids' names and ages, I don't want to do anything. It would just call more attention to the matter," Scully reiterated, brushing back her hair. "Do you think this will affect my return to work in January?"

"I don't know. They'll probably reassign you to Quantico or stick you in a forensics lab, but that was going to be one of your negotiating points anyway," he sighed. "If you were to return to work next week, they would consider you a distraction. But by January...it could blow over completely."

Scully nodded, lapsing into silence as they fought their way through a particularly nasty intersection. Preston cleared his throat once they entered the vicinity of his office, and decided to go for broke. "Do you want some unsolicited parenting advice from a nonparent?"

She glanced over at him, wondering what else he could possibly say, and softly whispered, "Sure."

"I know you want to protect the kids," he carefully explained. "But it might be important for them to see you fight back, in whatever form that might be. You don't have to make any decisions right now. Just think about it, Dana. I'll be in touch."

He gave her a sympathetic smile as he slid out of the SUV and crossed the street into his building. His words rang in Scully's ear as she drove back home. Throughout the entire situation, she had never considered the boys' perception of her, and a myriad of different thoughts and feelings rattled through her mind. When she finally reached home, she sat back in her seat, pulling her cell phone out of her bag, and once again dialed Mulder's number. Upon hearing that his voicemail was full, she took a moment to compose herself and then entered the house, shoring up her energy for a morning at the park.

When she walked into the kitchen, she saw a small bouquet of flowers on the counter. "Someone named Katie Thomas sent them," Hannah explained once she caught Scully's perplexed expression.

"She's the mother of one of Kyle's friends," Scully explained. "She's in PR, so it could just as well be a sales pitch than a kind gesture."

"Now Dana, I'm sure if she wanted you as a client, she would have sent a large arrangement of roses," joked Hannah, prompting Scully to laugh. "I take it she's not the person you carpool with?"

Scully shook her head with a snort. "No, she's a real estate agent. She promised Kyle a camera if he would take photos of every room and not tell us."

"So he didn't take her up on the offer?" Hannah asked.

"He overplayed his hand, unfortunately," explained Scully, biting back a smile as she relayed the story while packing up for a visit to the park. "He thought he could convince his father to get him a laptop by not complying with her request."

Hannah chuckled. "That boy is just like his father," she shared. "I take it Fox didn't fall for it?"

"No, but he was impressed, especially in that Kyle chose to mention this when he was particularly jet-lagged and sleep deprived. Since we got Bandit, Mulder hadn't had anything to threaten Kyle with for not doing his chores, so now he hangs a laptop over his head."

"But in general, Kyle's been well behaved?" Hannah asked, her tone growing more serious.

Scully drew a breath before answering; Hannah's body language indicated that she was unsure of whether she should ask that question, and Scully wanted to reassure the older woman that it was okay to broach the subject. "Yes. I mean, he's had his moments, but all kids do. It hasn't been easy for him, but he pulls through. We've just been taking it one day at a time."

XXXXXXXX

It wasn't until he woke up on the Gunmen's couch mid-morning that Mulder realized his error in judgment. He didn't know whether he had been simply overtaken by the thrill of the chase, or by a more general sense of nostalgia from a late night road trip, but instead of going home, he had driven directly to the warehouse. Langley and Byers didn't look surprised to see him; they pressed a cold beer in his hands, just like the old days, and within a half-hour, Mulder had fallen asleep.

He stretched as best he could for a few moments, trying to reorient himself and piece together the events of the previous twenty-four hours. Mostly, Mulder attempted to remember why his unconscious would autopilot to a scratchy, lumpy sofa that had probably never been cleaned, instead of the king-sized bed, complete with the love of his life as a pillow, at home.

Stretching, he took a look at his watch. 9:45 AM.

Skinner had promised to cover for him until that afternoon, so he had some time before he needed to show his face at the Hoover Building. Hopefully the gym at headquarters would be relatively empty, so he would be able to shower, shave, and change in peace. He reluctantly got up from the sofa and padded into the kitchen, where he poured himself some bitter coffee, making a face as he took his first sip.

"Did you talk to her?"

Mulder flinched as Byers' words echoed through the room. "No," he admitted, abandoning his mug on the sticky table, brushing past his friend on his way back to the couch, where he grabbed his jacket and made his way out of the warehouse. He ignored Byers' continued attempts to get his attention, holding his breath until the crisp October air hit his face.

Always a glutton for punishment, Mulder looked at his cell phone display as he sat in the Taurus. Two more missed calls since he last checked. He threw the phone on the passenger side seat and drove to work.

It wasn't that he wanted to avoid Scully; he just didn't know what to say. During that one night in March, when everything almost fell apart, she had only made one request of him: honesty. And he took that promise seriously. What it all boiled down to was trust. More than anything, Mulder needed her to understand the difficult situation in which he had been placed. But did he really doubt that she wouldn't? Or was he just doubting himself?

XXXXXXXX

Kyle ignored the stares and stifled giggles as he made his way to his locker. As soon it opened, a pile of crunched up papers, overstuffed notebooks, and some stale M&amp;Ms crashed to the floor. "Need help?"

Kyle looked up to see Natalie shyly staring at down at him. "Sure," he said.

"I stole this from my mom," she mumbled, throwing a copy of the newspaper he had seen Preston try to give Dana that morning. "I thought you might want to read it."

"Thanks," Kyle gratefully told her, flipping through the pages.

"I-I don't believe what it says. Your stepmother, she was really nice, that one time I met her," Natalie nervously explained, not looking up from the papers she was collecting. "I'm sorry that-"

"Dana said it doesn't really matter what the article says," interrupted Kyle, engrossed in the newspaper. "Wow, no wonder she was annoyed."

His nervous laughter took Natalie by surprise. "Seriously, thanks for giving this to me," Kyle reassured her, sticking the paper in his backpack as he tried to find Dave and Chloe before homeroom started.

XXXXXXXX

By the time Mulder entered his new office, it was nearly 11:00 AM. True to his word, Skinner had sent an email to the team earlier the previous evening, indicating Mulder would be spending the morning wrapping up some loose ends with the behavioral sciences unit.

After a hot shower in the gym locker room and some coffee, Mulder had come to the realization that Scully wouldn't expect him to reveal information that would endanger her brother's safety. But once he had worked up the courage to test his theory, he received a call summoning him up to Skinner's office.

Kim Cook greeted Mulder with a smile, immediately asking after Agent Scully. It wasn't lost on Mulder that she was the only person at the Bureau who directly inquired about her. He chalked that up to the fact that many agents were unsure of whether (or how) to broach the subject, as he had technically never confirmed the changed status of their relationship. In any case, Kim also knew the two of them better than most other Bureau personnel.

"She's good," Mulder warmly replied. "The kids are a handful. The two-year-old broke his arm over the weekend, but that hasn't slowed him down at all."

Before he could finish relating the story, the door to Skinner's inner sanctum opened. "Agent Mulder," Skinner gruffly called out. Before Mulder entered the room, Skinner handed him a slip of paper, which read _You need to keep it together_, prompting the younger man to look at his superior questionly.

Once he walked into the room, Mulder spotted Kersh and the director, who were seated at the conference table, on which several copies of a newspaper were sitting. Mulder paled at the sight of his partner's face looking back at him. He threw a confused look to Skinner, who quickly realized that Mulder had no idea that the article even existed.

It took all of his willpower for Mulder to keep his temper in check. "We will open an investigation to find the agents who spoke to the press," the Director promised.

"Including Tom Colton?" Mulder asked. "He was working with the Justice task force this summer."

"Internal Affairs will be handling this matter, and I'm sure that they will be speaking with everyone who was involved," the Director politely answered.

Mulder clenched his fist under the table, seriously doubting that IA would actually look into the matter; Colton knew which asses to kiss and whose backs to scratch. "And of course," continued the Director. "We'll post some agents around your home to make sure that your children aren't bothered. Your attorney has been in contact with my office on that point."

"Thanks," Mulder mumbled, trying his best to tone down his sarcasm.

Once the Director and Kersh left, with the door closing behind them, Mulder lunged for the newspaper, seething as he read. "I take it you haven't talked to Scully today," Skinner dryly remarked.

"Fuck," Mulder swore. "I need to call home."

XXXXXXXX

Somehow, Kyle managed to get through the morning without his teachers noticing he was not paying any attention. He had been thinking about the newspaper article nonstop, and wondering how well he really knew his stepmother.

"Did you even hear me?" Dave asked, polishing off his potato chips.

Kyle looked up, startled. "What?"

"Are they suing the newspaper?"

Kyle put down his fork, annoyed to realize that his food was gone. Since Hannah's arrival, she had been packing him the most delicious lunches; he hoped that she would be staying longer than a couple of weeks. While Dana's idea of dessert was an extra orange, Hannah always included a cookie.

"I don't think so," he shrugged. "Dana just told their lawyer that it didn't matter what the article said. She didn't even look at it, but she guessed what it said this morning."

"Well if it's true, they can't sue," Dave rationalized, reaching over to grab some Hershey Kisses from Colin's lunch bag while the other boy's back was turned. "Even if the newspaper exaggerated something that was kind of true, they wouldn't be able to win."

Suddenly, something clicked in Kyle's brain, and bits and pieces from previous conversations he held with his father began to flit through his mind. Maybe his dad and Dana were pretending not to care about the media coverage because they _were _trying to hide something. What Dave just said could fit into his theory; plus, Dave knew his stuff. His father was a lobbyist, and was always getting newspapers to publish stories about politicians. He had told them about some crazy ones during their apple picking excursion the previous weekend.

Kyle needed to get into that safe, and the sooner, the better. "Chloe," Kyle hissed. "I need your help."

"Is it about that algebra homework?" she whined, turning her attention away from Natalie, with whom she had been conversing. Chloe's sidekick had been quieter than usual, barely talking to the group all day.

Kyle shook his head. "No, I need to know whether you can break into my dad's safe."

"Probably," Chloe asked, trying not to sound too interested. She knew Kyle well enough to expect he wouldn't explain the whole story in one go. "Does it have a dial or a keypad?"

"Both. It's a wall safe."

The brunette scrunched her nose. "Maybe. I might need to look at it first. I don't know if I can crack it right away. Why? Anything juicy?"

"I'm pretty sure that my dad and Dana are hiding stuff from me," Kyle explained. "But I'm not sure exactly what. I found some weird things last night, but I know there's a lot more."

That piqued Chloe's interest. She nodded. "So during the stepmother support group dinner on Saturday, before the Halloween dance?"

"That part's going to be boring anyway. Our parents will just be talking to each other," agreed Kyle. "I'll be able to get us into the room with the safe."

"Just don't get disappointed if I can't get it open on first try. It sometimes takes awhile," cautioned Chloe, hoping she hadn't dug herself into a hole. She had bragged about her father's lock-picking lessons a few weeks previously, and didn't want to embarrass herself in front of her new friend.

"We're having Nathan's birthday party on Sunday," Kyle remembered. "Can you go to that too? Maybe we can try it then?"

"Let's mention it during dinner, so it would be really rude if your parents don't invite me right then and there," suggested Chloe. "I'm really good at guilting people. I have to do it a lot because all my Dad and Stella do is talk about the baby."

Kyle just hoped he could wait until Saturday.

XXXXXXXX

"Are you feeling okay, Dana?"

Scully nodded, chewing her lip in an attempt to calm down. She had just read-for the third time-the newspaper article that Preston had given her that morning. "I'm fine," she assured Hannah, self-conscious of her flaming cheeks. "I better go check on the kids. They don't usually nap this long."

Both Nathan and Will were already up by the time she got up the stairs, thwarting any opportunity she would have to spend some time alone. Content that Will could be left in his crib to play with Doggy and Raffy the Giraffe for a few more moments, Scully watched Nathan play with his toys, babbling along about trains and school and dinosaurs. When he looked up and saw his mother, Nathan ran over to give her a big hug, as though he knew she was having a bad day. "I love you so much, monkey," Scully told him. "Let's go get Will and then we can play the farm game."

Bandit lept up when he saw Will and Nathan run into the living room, hopping around the boys. "Ban it!" Will called out, extending his arm to try and pet the puppy, which resulted in both him and the dog tripping.

Will giggled, and Bandit scampered to him, licking his legs. "Ban-ban," he chimed.

Scully grinned, watching them play, so carefree and happy. She settled herself on the floor, in front of one of the couches, resting her head on the cushions. After their trip to the park that morning, the boys had an early lunch before she had to take Nathan for a follow-up visit with the pediatrician. Any concerns Dr. Philips had for the boy's health diminished once she saw Nathan attempt to climb the examination table, much to Scully's embarrassment. "He's quick," Dr. Philips commented. "I see this as the first of many trips to the emergency room for this kid."

She weakly smiled in response. "Believe me, it's in his genetic makeup."

Nathan had fallen asleep in the car, his normal naptime having been disrupted. Scully toted him inside, somehow able to get him into bed without waking. After checking-in on Will, who was taking his own nap, she headed to the kitchen, ready to call Mulder.

"Fox phoned while you were out," Hannah told her, switching off the stand mixer. "He's on a case and drove up to Pennsylvania. He said he'll be back tonight, and he asked me to tell you that he found his sneakers and that's all settled. Or was it drycleaning? He found something in any case."

Relief flooded through her. "Great," she grinned. "What are you making?"

"I'm testing a new cake recipe for Nathan's birthday," Hannah grew excited. "It's like that funfetti mix that Kyle is always bugging me about." While Hannah was normally open-minded about many things, she drew the line at boxed baking mixes: all of her desserts were made from scratch.

The idea of Nathan having a homemade cake, one made by someone who loved him, filled Scully with warmth. Hannah was the closest person the boys had to an in-the-flesh grandmother. While Mulder's mother was doing her best, they had only met her once, and wouldn't see her again until Thanksgiving. "Is that okay? Or were you planning on a store-bought cake?"

Scully snapped to reality. "A homemade cake is perfect," Scully agreed with a smile. She had been planning on getting a train-themed cake from a local bakery, but quickly pushed those thoughts aside. "Thank you."

"You know I enjoy doing this, Dana," Hannah told her. "It's not a bother."

"It still means a lot," Scully responded.

Now, hours later, Scully was brought to attention by Will, who had jumped on her lap. "Oof, bullfrog," Scully said to him. "You are getting big."

"Big Bird," Will pointed to his Sesame Street blocks.

"Let's go play," Scully told him as they made their way to the toybox.

XXXXXXXX

Mulder quietly entered the house, unsure of what to do. Although he was completely exhausted, he knew that it would be some time before he could go to bed. The kitchen was oddly silent as he threw his keys on the counter and made his way to the refrigerator. He smiled while pulling out a bowl of homemade macaroni and cheese, wondering whether it had been made by Hannah, who always put in an extra kick of mustard, or Scully, who always used extra sharp cheddar cheese. He didn't get very far in reheating his dinner when he realized that he was no longer alone.

"I'm home," he lamely announced to Hannah, loosening the tie around his neck.

"How's your case?" she asked, filling the tea kettle with water and eyeing his discarded suit jacket that had been tossed onto the back of Will's highchair.

"Good," murmured Mulder, tapping his foot on the wood floor. "I'm sorry I got tied up."

Hannah took a hard look at her former charge. "I can't tell whether you are giving me that look because you are feeling guilty or because you think that you should be feeling guilty, " she told him. "And I don't think I want to know the answer to that particular question. Kyle's in the living room, and everyone else is in bed."

"Even Scully?" Mulder asked, surprised. He took a quick look at the kitchen clock, which only read 8:30.

"It's been a long day," Hannah explained as she poured hot water into her tea mug. "And she wanted to get a head start on tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Nathan's visiting that preschool. Between that and his birthday, he was talking nonstop all day. I can't imagine how excited he'll be right before Christmas."

Mulder sighed. "I knew that," he muttered, stubbornly refusing to admit to himself (or Hannah) that he had forgotten. "Who got flowers?"

"Dana, as she should have, after this morning," Hannah remarked, giving Mulder a look that conveyed a silent they-should-have-been-from-you rejoinder. "I thought it was very thoughtful."

"Who sent them?" Mulder asked, assuming that they had to have been sent from Preston's office, or even from the Director.

"One of the mothers of Kyle's friends, Katie something-or-other. She also got a bottle of wine from Dave's family and Stella called," explained Hannah. "There are some very supportive parents at that school."

Mulder gulped, reading the subtext: you didn't even try calling. He knew that his main excuse-his cell phone had died while he was on his consult in Pennsylvania-was a lame one, even by his standards. He couldn't be bothered to find a phone, while people who Scully met just once or twice managed to do a hell of a lot more.

He pulled a beer from the fridge and took his warm dinner plate into the living room, where Kyle was sitting on the floor, using the coffee table as a desk. His schoolwork was scattered around the floor, and Bandit was sleeping on at least one textbook.

"Hey," Kyle greeted his father with mixed feelings. Part of him was happy to see his him home, but another part of him was annoyed that his dad's presence would complicate sneaking into the home office down the hall. It had taken him forever to get through his homework because he kept thinking about the files he had read the previous evening. Plus he still felt a bit anxious about his father's travel schedule, and he didn't want to start worrying about that issue again.

"Sorry I wasn't home last night, buddy," Mulder said, hoping his apology would go over better with his oldest son than with Hannah.

Kyle shrugged. "Wanna watch the game? I've been showing Hannah how I can multitask but she isn't too impressed."

"She's two for two on that count, bud. How much more homework do you have?" Mulder asked.

"Not much."

Mulder sifted through the piles of papers on the coffee table, startled to see Scully's face on newsprint in their own living room. He turned the television off. "Did you read this, Kyle? It's okay if you did. I just need to know."

"Yup," Kyle nodded, continuing to work on his French vocabulary flashcards.

Mulder set down his dinner, growing increasingly incensed as he re-read the article he had been steadfastly ignoring since his morning meeting.

"Isn't it funny?" Kyle joined him on the couch.

"_What _is so funny about it?" snapped Mulder.

Kyle looked at his father in alarm; he hadn't heard him that angry since that one morning on the Vineyard when he had been chewed out for not picking up Nathan's toys.

"Show me the funny part," Mulder demanded, handing over the newspaper to the eleven-year-old.

Kyle froze. Sensing his son's hesitation, Mulder rephrased, softening his tone. "What makes this article funny?"

"It just is," Kyle attempted to explain, at loss for words. Scrambling, he opened the newspaper. "Like the part when it talks about how they call her the ice queen and-"

"Stop it right there," Mulder seethed. He took a deep breath before continuing, not wanting to take out all of his frustration on his son. "Do you think they call her that as a joke?"

Kyle looked perplexed. He hadn't expected that particular question.

"Kyle, they don't call her that to be funny," explained Mulder, doing his best to control his voice. "They call her that to be cruel. This whole article? It's not objective, like most stories on the front page of the _New York Times_. The people who gave this information to the reporters? They were paid. No one checked to see if what they said was true. That's how these things work." What he left unsaid was the very real possibility that a Scully family member was probably one of these individuals.

"Oh," Kyle responded in a small voice, beginning to understand his father's reaction.

"Kyle, you aren't a mean kid," Mulder quietly remarked. "Far from it, really. So why did you think it was funny?"

"I don't know," backtracked Kyle. "I guess I didn't really think about it too much. She said this morning, when Preston brought it over, that it didn't really matter. Then I read it, and I figured that it just wasn't a big deal or whatever."

Mulder closed his eyes, repeating to himself that he was trying to reason with an eleven-year-old, not an adult, that Kyle didn't really know any better. And he had to blame himself for that, at least partially so-after all, he hadn't really been around as much as he should have since their move to DC. "Kyle, do you tell me every single little thing that bothers you?"

"No," he answered. "I'm not a tattletale."

"Just because she said the story didn't bother her," Mulder began. "Didn't mean that her feelings weren't hurt. Even though things in this article might sound unbelievable, it still causes pain."

"So if it's not true, why don't you tell that to the newspaper?" Kyle quickly asked, thinking of Dave's remark at lunch.

"Because it might bring more attention to the story," responded Mulder. "If we say something, the media might then start to write more about it, and we want to protect you and your brothers. We can't talk to the press about this and then say that we want our privacy at the same time."

Kyle sat back, thinking. Things weren't nearly as simple as he-and his friends-had assumed.

But his gut still told him that there were things that he didn't know about, and the answers were just down the hall.

XXXXXXXX

Mulder checked-in on Will and Nathan, who were both sleeping soundly. Will was using Raffy the Giraffe as a pillow, and Doggy was lying on his chest. Nathan was snuggled between two pillows, to keep him from sleeping on his arm. When he walked into the master bedroom, he saw Scully slumped on her side, a sure sign that she was in the middle of a deep sleep.

He took a quick shower before climbing into bed. After watching her slumber for a few moments, he inched closer to her, pressing a kiss on the nape of her neck. She immediately reacted, a shiver running down her back. He took that as a positive sign, and sunk his mouth on her left shoulder blade, sucking on her skin for a moment. "Wake up," he whispered before repeating his actions.

"Mulder?" Scully muttered before letting out a soft moan. She turned around, immediately captured into a kiss.

"I'm sorry," Mulder mumbled, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her closer.

"You can't talk about it, I know that," Scully quickly responded, fighting the lump that was forming in her throat. She snuggled into him even further, feeling the evidence of his arousal press against her back. Unable to turn around in her position, she whispered. "Hard, Mulder. Make it hurt."

The words weren't even out of her mouth before she felt him once again nip her neck, this time his teeth grazing her skin, a move he coordinated with snaking his right hand underneath them both and then into her.

When they managed to flip over, she took a good look at her partner, watching the love, arousal, fear, and guilt radiate from his hazel eyes. "I love you," she softly reminded him as he resumed the previous tempo of his thrusts.

Settling back into bed, Scully draped herself across Mulder's chest, tracing patterns on his side. She didn't quite remember the last time sex had been that intense; it was the only benefit of the stress with which they have had to confront. "Why didn't you call? When it was safe to, I mean?" she asked into his abdomen, not quite brave enough to ask that question while looking into his eyes.

"Self-preservation, I think. I've been asking myself that question all day," Mulder explained. "Fear, maybe, of not being able to compartmentalize. My phone died and I rationalized that as an excuse. I found out about the article around noon, and my heart dropped into my stomach, Scully. That's when I called the house. I don't even know why I didn't try your cell. I screwed up."

"Don't do it again, please," Scully asked. "But this isn't because of the article. It's about dropping off the radar. The kids-I need to know what to say."

"I won't," Mulder promised once Scully's voice dropped off, thinking to himself that this was only the second request she had made to him since March.

"Scully?" Mulder asked, hoping she hadn't fallen asleep.

"Hmmpf," she responded, her eyes growing heavy with sleep.

"It wasn't you, it was me. Not calling, I mean. I knew you wouldn't pressure me into talking about it. I just don't like not being able to share something like that with you. It was me who couldn't handle it, not you."

He hoped that she heard him.

XXXXXXXX

"Can't you just let your hair hide it or something?" Mulder asked the next morning, holding up his hands when Scully shot him a dirty look.

While he was in the shower, she had commandeered the bathroom vanity, furiously dabbing two cotton swabs of concealer on different spots around her neck and shoulders.

"You're going to have to do the back," she ordered. "You bite it, you hide it."

"I didn't hear any complaints from you last night," he reminded her, taking one of the swabs, following her directions. "And I'm your guy for this job. I know how to rub."

She tried to bite back a smile, not wanting to encourage his lame jokes. She had woken up to feelings of anxiety over Nathan's preschool visit, determined to undo whatever damage might have been wrought by the local tabloid media. "He'll be fine, Scully. You'll be fine. They know you at this school, you've met with them twice," Mulder calmly reasoned. "And if they give you a hard time, remind them that they need that new boiler."

"Are you suggesting that we buy our way into nursery school?" Scully asked skeptically.

"Scully, your search for a preschool rivals that of overachieving high school juniors looking at colleges," he opined. "If it were a tax-deductible investment, I would have bought the place weeks ago."

But the grin that crossed Nathan's face when his mother handed him a blue Thomas the Tank Engine backpack was contagious, and at that moment, Mulder realized that all of Scully's planning, and any stress it had caused him, was well worth it.

"So now you have a school bag just like Kyle," Scully explained to Nathan. "And why don't you open it?"

This part really had been an afterthought; she had slipped some crayons and a book that she had found when cleaning into the bag the previous evening, but it made the surprise even more special for Nathan, who insisted on wearing the backpack while eating breakfast,

The meltdown came when Mulder told Kyle it was time to go. A look of panic crossed Nathan's face when he saw them leave without him, and he began to cry, running after them. His parents quickly realized that he thought that his father would be taking him to school just like his big brother.

"You have to be there at eight thirty, right?" Mulder asked Scully. "Why don't we meet you there?"

"Are you sure?" Scully asked, looking at the clock. The preschool was close to their house, so Mulder would essentially be driving halfway to work before turning around again, all during rush hour.

"If I'm late, I'll just say I hit traffic," rationalized Mulder. "Just do me one favor, okay?"

Scully looked at him expectantly. He had a glint in his eye, and she wasn't exactly sure what he was thinking.

"Eat breakfast. You'll need your energy tonight," he whispered into her ear before giving her a quick kiss. "I love you."

"I'll see you soon, monkey," Scully hugged Nathan before he took his father's hand. "Be good."

Kyle groaned when he realized that Nathan would be joining them for the school run. Even when he didn't really feel like talking to his father, he enjoyed having time away from his brothers. At least it only took a couple of minutes to get to Colin's house, so he wouldn't be stuck alone with his family for too long.

Nathan sat in his car seat, grinning ear-to-ear. "Ernie!" he shouted as soon as they pulled out of their parking spot.

"No, that's not fair," Kyle sputtered.

"Kyle," Mulder warned. "He's really excited because he wants to be just like you."

"And I don't like Sesame Street music!"

"It's just once, okay?" Mulder argued as he put on the music.

"Why does everybody always spoil him?" the eleven-year-old protested. "He's not even really going to school."

"Because I should be going to this appointment with him and Dana," Mulder explained. "And I can't, so I'm just trying to do this for him, and for her, and for me, okay?"

There were a million things that Kyle wanted to say, but he knew he was skating on thin ice with his father, and he didn't want to be grounded before (or during) the Halloween dance. He only talked to Colin for the rest of the ride to school, and he didn't even remember whether he had said goodbye to his father when they jumped out of the car.

XXXXXXXX

"Look where we are," Mulder said to Nathan as he pulled into a parking space at the preschool, a few spots away from Scully's car. "This is where you are going to try out school for a day."

When he brought Nathan to the ground, he warned his son to stay exactly where he was. For once, the two-year-old listened, probably because he wanted his new backpack, which was still in the car. Mulder helped him with the straps, and they walked over to Scully hand-in-hand. "How was your ride to school?" Scully asked her son.

"Good," Nathan smiled, jumping up and down, tugging on his backpack straps.

"However, I don't think that Kyle will recover anytime soon," Mulder muttered.

"Ernie?" Scully asked knowingly. "He'll get over it. Maybe not today though."

Mulder arched an eyebrow, impressed with his partner's deductive reasoning. "I guess this is where we part," Mulder awkwardly shrugged, looking at his watch with a sigh.

"I know you want to stay, Mulder," Scully said, squeezing her partner's hand. "It's okay. I bet that your car ride this morning will be the best part of Nathan's day. Well, maybe second to the backpack."

"Scully," Mulder responded. "The look on his face when he saw that backpack-I don't think I'll ever forget it."

"I don't think I will either," she admitted, smiling at their little boy. "Tomorrow is Elisabeth's usual day to come over. What if I see if she could come by a little later than normal so we can pick out a couple of p-r-e-s-e-n-t-s for Nathan's b-i-r-t-h-d-a-y? I could meet you after work."

"Only if I get to take you out to dinner too," Mulder smoothly responded. "And a real dinner, Scully. Not some let's squeeze in a meal around the kids' bedtime sort of thing."

"Alright," Scully agreed. She knew she had to be better about letting the boys stay with other people. "I'll talk to Elisabeth."

XXXXXXXX

The excitement in the house grew to fever-pitch on Saturday. Between Kyle trying to finish his homework-and his costume for the Halloween dance-and Nathan reminding everybody that his birthday was the next day, there was barely a moment of peace and quiet. Even though Mulder had to put in a couple of hours worth of work in the morning, the result of having left the office on time for a good chunk of the week, Scully had managed to set everything up for both dinner that night and for the birthday party the next afternoon.

Kyle looked nervously at the clock. Once Chloe and her parents arrived, they wouldn't have much time to snoop through the office. Dave's mom would be picking them up in thirty minutes, as their friends all decided on themed costumes of B-horror movies that would require the group to arrive together for full effect. Kyle was dressing as The Creature from the Black Lagoon, and Chloe was going as The Spider.

He let out a sigh of relief when he heard the doorbell ring. Just as he suspected, the adults all went into the living room, so he was able to cross the kitchen and grab the key from the laundry room without anyone noticing. "I'll stand guard in the hallway," Kyle explained, slipping Chloe the key.

Chloe followed Kyle as they went to return the key. "I think I have a lockpick at home that will work for the dial," Chloe explained. "But it looks really new, so the keypad might be tricky."

"My uncles installed it when we moved here," Kyle said. "So it might be new."

"The keypad code has to be a four digit number. I have a fingerprinting kit that we can use to see which numbers have been pressed the most, so think of birthdays and stuff that the code could be. Or their anniversary date or something. But we're going to need at least twenty minutes."

"I can do that," Kyle promised, relieved to see Chloe fairly confident that her hacking skills would work.

"Dave's mom is here," Scully called out from the hallway. "Have fun. You both look great."

"Don't do anything stupid," Hank told Kyle. "I have eyes everywhere, kid."

"Stop being a jerk," Stella called out from living room.

"I hate you both," Chloe muttered. "Hey Nathan, can I go to your birthday party tomorrow?"

Nathan ran up to her. "Yes!" he shouted, giving her a small hug before running back to the living room.

"I was invited to Nathan's birthday party," Chloe announced to her father. "So I'm going. It would be really rude if I didn't."

Hank rolled his eyes. "If your homework is done and the Mulders say it's okay, that's fine by me. But next time wait for the invitation in the mail."

"We're happy to have her," Mulder smiled, walking with the kids to the awaiting SUV, slinging his arm over Kyle's shoulders for a side-hug. "Have fun, buddy. And don't do anything that will get you on Hank's bad side."

XXXXXXXX

"It's my birfday! It's my birfday! It's my birfday!" Nathan ran into his parent's room and scrambled on the bed, having grown quite adept at climbing around the house with his cast.

"No it's not," teased Mulder, scooping up his son into a bear hug. "Your birthday is tomorrow."

"No! No! No!" Nathan panicked. "Balloons!"

Scully smiled, happy that the three-year-old noticed the Thomas the Tank Engine balloons on his bedroom door. "You have balloons?" she asked, hoping to sound surprised. "I think that means it's your birthday and Daddy's just teasing you."

"So how is life as a three-year-old?" asked Mulder, playing with his son's curls. "Are you taller than yesterday?"

"Yes!"

"Are you smarter than yesterday?"

"Yes!"

The parents exchanged a special smile as Nathan began to chatter non-stop about being three. If anything, Scully mused, his vocabulary had certainly seemed to have grown overnight. She settled on her side, soaking in the morning excitement. Things had finally settled down over the past few days, and she had noticed that Mulder enjoyed their dinner the previous evening; she had overheard him and Hank making plans to play basketball later on in the week. "What do you want for breakfast, monkey? Mickey Mouse pancakes? Or fluffy waffles?"

Mulder whispered something in Nathan's ear, and the birthday boy chirped, "Daddy cereal!"

Scully arched an eyebrow, curious as to the reason for Mulder's sly grin. "Sugared cereal is the perfect birthday breakfast treat," he argued. "And it gives Mommy the morning off from cooking."

Nathan replicated his father's puppy dog pout and Scully knew she was outnumbered. "Puh-leeeze," he begged.

"For a special birthday treat, yes, monkey," relented Scully. "As long as we have-"

"It's all taken care of," Mulder grinned, bending over to kiss her good morning. "And you are never going to find where I hid those boxes."

"What?" Scully sat straight up, but Mulder had taken full advantage of his head start, thumping down the stairs with Nathan before she could even get out of bed.

XXXXXXXX

Scully had wanted to keep the birthday party a small affair, having asked over a few families who they frequently met at the park and library for games and cake. But after factoring in the Gunmen, Addison and his two daughters, and Coop and Elisabeth, the number swelled.

If Nathan had been excited about his backpack, he was absolutely floored by his parents' birthday present: a Playmobil castle set. Mulder had been immediately drawn to it during their shopping trip earlier that week, insisting that it was the perfect gift. Scully had been worried about the "for ages 4+" sticker on the box, but Mulder had convinced her that Nathan was more than smart for his age, he already loved to play games involving pretend, and it would be something he and Will could play with for years. (Scully still wasn't sure whether 'he' referred to himself or to Nathan, so she assumed he meant both). Furthermore, if he didn't seem to take an interest to it, they could always stick it in a closet for a few months and try it again later.

"So you've had your eye on this for a while," Scully had guessed as they waited in line to purchase the playset.

"Why makes you say that?" Mulder had asked, digging his hands in his pockets.

"Mulder you said 'furthermore' as if you were preparing an argument for debate club," Scully had pointed out, prompting him to pout and then ditch her in line to look at a set of Transformers action figures.

While most parents worried about the one-year-olds putting things in their mouths, Scully had to deal with Will's propensity to stick things in his nose. Once she was satisfied that he wasn't going to do anything naughty with the smaller pieces of his brother's new toy, she turned her attention to the food. "I'm all set here, Scully," Mulder told her, not looking up from the playset. "Don't worry about us."

"So this is the real reason I didn't have to make breakfast?" she good naturedly responded. Mulder gave her the thumbs up sign, barely looking up from the top of the castle.

Nathan had worked himself and Will up into such a frenzy that they both fell asleep for their naps without putting up a fight, waking just in time for the party guests' arrival. Scully tasked Kyle to sit with Will upstairs for a bit, as the baby was still a bit cranky. Thankfully, she had sent Chloe upstairs to join them once she arrived.

"Hey Will. Your mom thought you might want some juice," Chloe exclaimed, handing him a sippee cup. "It's really loud down there."

"I'm only in it for the cake," Kyle glumly told her. "It's been crazy all day. Dana wants everything to be perfect, and my Dad just wants to play with my brothers, and I'm so sick of it."

Chloe dangled a ziploc bag in front of her friend. "We're getting answers, so today really could have sucked a lot more than it does," she reminded him. "Good thing I scored myself an invite to this shindig."

Kyle took the fingerprint kit from her. "This is a real one," he said, impressed.

"Swiped it from my Dad's office last year," Chloe explained. "It wasn't even his. I went to somebody else's desk."

"Smart," Kyle remarked, clearly impressed.

"So what are we finding out?" Chloe asked casually, hoping Kyle would be more forthcoming than he had been earlier that week.

"Stuff about Dana," he shrugged. "She and my dad are acting weirder than normal. I need to know what's really going on."

"But what does that mean?" Chloe asked.

"You'll see once we get in the office," Kyle assured her, taking Will's hand as they descended the staircase

XXXXXXXX

"He's having a great time," Mulder reassured Scully as they bustled around the kitchen. "This stuff can wait. Kyle and Chloe can put out the food. I want you to enjoy this, Scully. Spend his birthday with him. And me."

Scully looked up, nodding. "You're right," she agreed, setting down the bowl she had in her hands.

"I'll get them," Mulder told her, dropping a kiss in her forehead before he started playing with her hair. He had been secretly pretending that she was letting it curl naturally for him, even though he knew it was probably to distance herself from the photos that had been circulating in the press. "You go pin the tail on the puppy."

He watched her disappear into the living room, and he ducked his head in only to whisper to Hannah not to let her back in the kitchen. "Smartest thing you've said all day, Fox," Hannah remarked with approval.

Mulder wondered where the older kids could have gone; the ground floor wasn't that large, and he could have sworn he had seen them on his way to the kitchen. "Kyle?" he called out. "Chloe?"

He didn't know why his first instinct was to open a locked door, but he tried the knob to his office and found himself practically tripping into the room.

"What the hell are you two doing?" he asked, shutting the door behind him.

He looked at Kyle, and then Chloe, and then the swinging door of the wall safe. The floor was littered with papers.

"Why did you lie to me?" Kyle challenged his father.


	40. Chapter Thirty Nine

**A/N: **Hi everyone. This chapter is a bit different from others, so please let me know what you thought. I really appreciate everyone's comments. I also want to thank oldmoviewatcher for being a fantastic sounding board. Happy reading!

XXXXXXXXX

Kyle thought his father was going to explode; he had never seen him so angry.

Mulder approached the two eleven-year-olds quietly, his fists clenching and unclenching as he made his way to the desk. "What the _fuck_ are you two doing?" he seethed. "Get the hell away from there. On the couch. _Now_."

The first thing he did was make sure that the strongbox that contained his firearm was in the safe, which he immediately closed. "We'll talk about this invasion of privacy on the floor later, but for now, I'm going to ask what the hell you two were thinking," he barked. "Kyle, you know that my gun is in that lockbox. Do you know how many kids are crawling around here today?"

"But it was in the other box," Kyle stumbled over his words, wide-eyed at his father's frantic rant.

"Do you really think that makes a difference?" Mulder responded, clutching the back of his chair. "Think about the sheer amount of destruction your brothers can cause. Nathan managing to climb the kitchen counter, Will sticking anything and everything up his nose. You two are so fucking lucky that none of these kids followed you in here."

A knock at the door interrupted Mulder's tirade. He motioned for the kids to stay on the couch, and he walked across the room to open it himself.

"Hey they want to bring out the cake," Coop began, trailing off as he took in the scene before him: the mess on the floor, two trembling kids on the couch, and the furious look on Mulder's face. "Um, I can come back."

"I need you to do me a favor," Mulder explained, handing Coop the key. "Keep the door locked and stay here with Tweedledum and Tweedledummer. Under no circumstances are they allowed to even think about moving. No one is to touch those papers on the floor. No cake for them either. I'll be back when I can."

"The door locks from the inside? How come you didn't think of that?" Chloe exclaimed, burying her face in her hands.

"Coop," Mulder whispered as the kids started to argue loudly. "Scully is not to be let in here or told about any of this."

Coop nodded: he heard the message loud and clear.

"Whoah," Coop muttered as the door banged shut. "Should I even ask what you two did?"

Kyle and Chloe looked at one another before Kyle began to answer. "Dad's kind of mad," he said.

"I've seen your dad mad," Coop reminded Kyle as he locked the door and then settled in the desk chair. "But never like that. What the hell did you do? Come on, Kyle, you're like my little brother. You can talk to me. Tell me exactly what happened, and I'll give you a step-by-step guide as to how to deal with your father."

"So you'll be our lawyer?" Kyle asked, secretly proud of the fact that Coop thought of him as a younger brother.

"Yup," Coop nodded, taking a swig of his beer.

"Does that mean I can invoke attorney-client privilege?"

"Technically not with her in the room, but we'll let that slide, considering the circumstances," Coop explained. "Come on, Kyle, it can't be that bad."

"It is," Kyle admitted sheepishly, looking down at the floor.

"Well, we technically don't know how angry he really is yet," Chloe responded. "What he's mad about now is that the strongbox with the gun was in the safe, and we, uh, opened that."

"Sorry guys, but I kind of have to side with Mulder on that one," Coop admitted. "But for some strange reason, I don't think that's the real issue, is it? Fess up, camper."

Kyle mournfully shook his head. "You can't tell Dad," he warned Coop.

"Fine by me," Coop responded. "Spill it."

"I've been sneaking in here at night," Kyle explained, wringing his hands in his lap.

"Computer?"

The eleven-year-old shook his head. "Files. You know how my family is messed up. I know that my Dad isn't telling me the whole story about everything, and I want to know the truth."

"About the trial?"

"Yeah, and...other stuff."

"Gotchya," Coop nodded. Missing aunts, murderous step-uncles, and little brothers appearing out of nowhere; par for the Mulder family course, but not necessarily anything for the new kid to share with his classmates. "Seriously, I know what you mean."

Kyle held Coop's gaze for a beat, satisfied that the law student understood what he was trying to convey, something which was not lost on Chloe, who frustrated that her friend was still holding back.

"Anyway, I got through the stuff in the desk, so I needed to get into the safe."

"That's where I came in," Chloe piped up.

"You opened that thing?" asked Coop, putting down his beer. He had seen the safe once before, when he helped the Mulder family move into the townhouse, and remembered thinking that it was pretty state-of-the-art, and assumed that the Gunmen had thrown in some extra security measures. For a middle schooler to crack that, well...she must be a force of nature in her own right.

"Yup," responded Chloe proudly, sensing Coop's amazement. "It was easy."

"Did you introduce her to the Gunmen?"

"Not yet," explained Kyle. "And I have a funny feeling that won't be happening any time soon."

"So, did you find what you were looking for in the safe?" Coop asked.

"I think so," Kyle slowly answered, his hesitation a silent signal to Coop that he couldn't say much more with his friend in the room.

Chloe saw room to maneuver, and took full advantage of the opening. "When did you start thinking that Nathan wasn't your stepmom's kid?"

Coop grimaced. He had wondered whether Mulder and Dana had told Kyle about that little factoid, and there he had his answer. But after another quick peek at Kyle, Coop was pretty sure that there was something else that was bothering the eleven-year-old. In any case, Mulder would certainly have his hands full for the foreseeable future.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Mulder was thankful that Coop interrupted when he did; he knew that he had been about 15 seconds from completely losing his temper, which would not make for a pretty scene. He was well aware of his violent tendencies, and the last thing he wanted was for his son to be afraid of him.

"Fox, there you are," Hannah fussed, motioning for him to join her in the kitchen. "Why don't you bring out the cake, and I'll take some photos. Elisabeth is going to try and corral Will so he doesn't try to dig into the cake again. Luckily we had that extra tube of frosting, so we were able to fix what he smudged. Where are Kyle and Chloe?"

"They're busy," Mulder mumbled, trying to light the matches on the cake. "School thing."

Hannah started to question him, but once she sensed the tell-tale flicker of anger in his eyes, she held her tongue. Something was off, but now was not the time to be asking questions.

"Just-don't-not now," he stumbled, realizing that Hannah knew something was up. "Later."

"Okay," she responded in a soothing tone, the kind that she had used whenever his frustration built up to a boiling point.

Mulder walked into the dining area with the cake; at first, he faked his smile, but the look of delight that crossed Nathan's face when he saw the blue train turned it into into a genuine grin. Nathan was half-sitting, half standing on his mother's lap, ready to blow out the candles. Next to them were Elisabeth and Will, who was trying his hardest to touch the frosting, mightily wiggling whenever Elisabeth gently moved his hand.

"I'm three!" Nathan said between bites of cake.

"You certainly are, monkey," grinned Scully.

All Mulder could do was gaze; she looked radiant, hugging Nathan close to her and bending down to drop a kiss on Will's head. When she saw that he was staring at her, she gave him one of her enigmatic smiles that further melted his heart. He could barely feel that tears that pricked his eyes.

"Daddy!" Nathan cried.

Mulder took a seat next to him and Scully, Nathan scrambling to sit on his lap. "Did you save me some cake, buddy?" Mulder asked him as Hannah passed over a slice.

Nathan nodded. "Me!" Will called out.

"You have frosting everywhere, Will," Mulder exclaimed. "Did you leave any on the cake?"

Will looked at his father with a perplexed expression. "I'd know that look anywhere," he teased, causing Scully to slightly redden. Before she could protest, she was interrupted and left the table to once again play hostess.

Forty-five minutes later, the last of their guests departed, leaving the parents exhausted. "I think that these two are starting to get a bit tuckered out," Scully observed; for the first time all day, the toddlers were sitting still on the floor. "Do you think we could get them to cooperate for a photo? Hannah, would you mind taking one? And where's Kyle? I haven't seen him or Chloe."

"I'll get him," offered Mulder quickly.

He rapped on the office door, calling out "It's me."

Coop opened it, letting Mulder slide in before closing it again. "Family photo," he explained. "Kyle, I need you to get out there and put a smile on your face. If you pull anything, so help me God."

"I get it, I get it, I get it," the eleven-year-old muttered.

"And then it's right back in here. Chloe, don't for a second think that I'm not going to be having a long talk with your father as soon as he steps foot in this house." He turned to Coop. "Are you still good here?"

"I'm good," Coop assured him. "As long as you saved me a slice of cake."

Kyle groaned. He had been looking forward to that cake all week, and something told him that he wouldn't be tasting it at all. "Don't," Mulder warned him, glimpsing the look on his son's face. He dropped his voice. "She doesn't ask for much, Kyle. You know that. Three minutes, that's all. Then you can do whatever the hell you want to, just not in front of her, at this moment. Got it? I need you to say it."

"I get it, okay?" Kyle testily responded, keeping his eyes to the floor.

Mulder bit the inside of his cheek, trying to keep his temper in check as he pushed his son into the living room. "Where have you been?" Scully asked, trying to wipe the last remnants of cake from Nathan's face.

"I thought we could take it in front of the fireplace," suggested Hannah, waving them away from the couch. "Kyle, grab the ottoman, so Dana can sit with your brothers. Or should we move that chair over instead?"

As soon as she saw father and son walk into the living room, Scully knew that something was off, and that Kyle was faking his tight smile. She glanced over at Mulder, who was busy throwing Will up in the air. When his eyes finally met hers, she understood that it wasn't something they could get into at the moment. "Later," he whispered as he squeezed next to her on the ottoman, each of them holding a child. Kyle managed to kneel in back of them, holding a precarious pose that Hannah had deemed perfect. By the time she shot a few photos, everyone's patience was wearing thin.

Mulder brought the castle playset back into the living room, and Nathan immediately started jumping up and down in excitement. "I'll be right back, Nathan, then we can play," promised Mulder.

As he escorted Kyle back into the office, the doorbell rang. "Hi Hank," he heard Scully say. "Would you like something to eat?"

"Hey Hank," Mulder greeted his new friend. "I found that cordless drill we talked about last night. It's in the basement. Want to see if it's the one you have been looking for?"

"Sure," Hank smoothly responded, following him downstairs. He didn't speak again until we was certain that they could not be overheard. "What did they do?"

Mulder stifled a laugh. "You could tell something wasn't right?"

"You have that look in your eye, my friend. What destruction and mayhem have you had to deal with? Lay it on me, I think I've seen everything."

To say that Hank was angry was an understatement. "I keep a service weapon in the house, and to think that she has probably been opening that strongbox makes me sick," he groaned. "Do you know why they broke in?"

"Apparently Kyle has questions about some family stuff that we've been dealing with," Mulder explained. "So he figured that he might find some answers this way."

Hank rubbed his forehead. "This is a mess," he agreed. "Chloe thinks she's older than she is, and that she has all the answers. This is going to be the rude awakening that I know she had coming. Believe me, she is going to be punished. Did they find anything that they, uh, shouldn't have seen?"

"Nothing inappropriate," Mulder assured him. "Just...out of context, legal documents from the divorce, a few thing about the trial, that kind of thing. He's been asking questions about stuff he shouldn't have to worry about. I think this transition to living with us is just kind of hitting him."

"When did you get custody?"

"March," Mulder explained, choosing his words carefully. "I stayed out the school year with him in New York, we spent the summer at my grandfather's house on Martha's Vineyard, and then we got here Labor Day weekend."

"So this all new," Hank sympathized. "Chloe's been acting out since our move too. And, well, my divorce got really nasty. I won custody, but it was a rough six months. I still sometimes wake up in a panic about it, eight years later. She hasn't asked me any questions, but I'm sure she will at some point."

"We have tough kids," mused Mulder.

The two men solemnly made their way to the office, where they saw Chloe and Kyle slumped on either end of the leather couch, with Coop sprawled out on the desk chair. "You've been relieved of duty," Mulder told Coop, clasping a hand on his shoulder. "Eat as much cake as you want."

"I'll be hanging out for a bit," Coop promised Mulder and Kyle, nodding to them both. Watching the eleven-year-old over the course of the afternoon reminded him of his own turbulent adolescence. He wanted to be there for Kyle and offer him the same type of support that Mulder had offered him ten years earlier.

Coop made his way to the kitchen, where Scully was making dinner. "Is lemon chicken okay for dinner? Elisabeth said you could stay." she asked. "And where did you go off to?"

"Kyle was showing me some stuff," he responded, cutting himself a slice of cake. "And I'd love some dinner. Dinner as dessert is my favorite."

Scully scrunched up her face. "Don't let Nathan see you eat cake. I told him no more until after dinner," she said.

"This isn't going to last long enough for him to see me," promised Coop. "This is fantastic."

"Is Kyle okay?" Scully asked, point-blank, sliding the chicken into the oven.

"Yup," Coop tightly answered, knowing that Scully wasn't going to rest until she she found out exactly what went down that afternoon.

"What happened?" she persisted.

"Can't tell you," Coop insisted as he threw away his paper plate and plastic fork, hoping to make a fast getaway. "Attorney-client privilege."

All of a sudden, they heard the sound of Chloe yelling, "I hate you!"

"Sorry," Hank awkwardly muttered as he followed his daughter out the door. "Mulder, I'll talk to you later."

"What the hell happened?" Scully asked, wracking her brain as to what could have transpired that afternoon. She headed down the hallway and into the office, where she saw Mulder tensely standing against the wall, forearms crossed in front of him, Kyle lying down on the couch, his back to his father. "Mulder? What's going on?"

"Boris and Natasha decided to do some sleuthing on their own," Mulder grimly explained. "They got into the wall safe. My service weapon was in there."

"What? Why?" Scully asked, completely bewildered.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out now," Mulder clenched his jaw. "I'm not really getting anywhere at the moment."

"Because you don't tell me anything!" Kyle burst.

Mulder closed his eyes. "I can't deal with this right now," he muttered. "We are going to talk about this tonight. I just need a minute but I don't trust you enough to leave you alone."

"Could you help me clean the kitchen and get dinner ready?" Scully asked, trying to keep her voice even. She knew Mulder was incredibly angry, and she needed to play the part of peacekeeper, at least through dinner. "I could use a hand."

"No cake," Mulder nonsensically warned.

"We're fine on our own," Scully explained, shooting him a look. If Mulder wanted his son to be civil, he needed to act the part. "Kyle, could you please wipe down the table and set it for seven? And Nathan and Will should get plastic-"

"Dana?"

Scully turned around; she had only heard Kyle speak in such a small voice a handful of times.

"You won't take Bandit away, right?"

Scully's heart fell in her chest. "No, of course not," she rushed, wondering what brought on that question. "He's family. Did your dad mention something about that?"

Kyle shook his head as he sponged off the table. "No, I just wanted to make sure. He's really mad."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Scully carefully offered, not knowing what else to say. The last thing she wanted to do was to pressure him to speak. She vaguely thought about the irony of the situation: he was upset that they didn't tell him something, but he wouldn't tell them what. She waved away those thoughts, figuring that it wouldn't make any sense to get into such an involved conversation until the younger kids were down for the count. "If you aren't ready, that's okay."

"No," he muttered, his eyes still downcast.

"I'll be right back," she promised, making her way to the living room, where Mulder, Nathan, and Coop were firmly immersed with the playset, while Will was building a tower of blocks with Elisabeth.

The dog jumped to attention at the sound of his name, running to her side, anticipating a treat.

"No," Mulder blandly looked up from the drawbridge he was trying to reconnect.

"Since neither of you are telling me what's going on, I'm doing what I think is best. He needs this dog, Mulder," Scully hissed, gently tugging Bandit by his collar. "Kitchen, Bandit."

Kyle relaxed as soon as Bandit nuzzled his knees. They sat together on the floor in the corner of the breakfast nook, waiting.

XXXXXX

Dinner was a bit of a tense affair. Exhaustion, and therefore, crankiness, was beginning to set in for Nathan and Will. Mulder didn't say much, preferring to mope over his chicken, while Coop did his best to converse with Kyle, who even smiled a couple of times. Scully busied herself with the toddlers, occasionally chiming in on Hannah and Elisabeth's discussion about an exhibit at the Smithsonian they were planning to see.

"Okay, monkey, time for your bath," Scully told Nathan as she helped him off his booster seat.

"No!" Nathan cried.

"We can put in some bubbles," she hinted, trying to keep her voice perky, and not add any tension to the room.

"No!" The three-year-old sat on the floor, tears of frustration running down his face.

Mulder tensed as he piled up the dirty dishes. "Nathan," he tiredly warned his son, hoping they wouldn't have to resort to a time-out on his birthday. "Listen to your mommy,"

"She's not his mother!" Kyle loudly snapped.

XXXXXX

Looking back, Scully wasn't quite certain of the exact order of events. She remembered feeling as though she had been punched in the stomach, and therefore had tightened her grip on Will, who was sitting on her hip, worried she was going to drop him. The only visual she had was of Coop, who deftly stepped between father and son, as though he had known exactly what was going to unfold, and had pre-planned his movements.

"Let's go," he resolutely told Kyle, leading him out of the kitchen, hand on his shoulder. "We'll be out for a while."

Confused, Elisabeth ran after them, returning a few moments later before once again leaving. When she reentered the house, she explained, out of breath, "I gave them his jacket."

"Thanks," Scully attempted to smile, appreciative that someone had the wherewithal to be think of something so practical. Somehow, she had sat down, with Will on her lap. She had no idea how much time had passed, but she needed to keep going, at least until the younger children were settled for bed. "Bathtime, little monsters."

"Let me help," Elisabeth offered, still bewildered as to what was exactly happening. "Please."

Scully nodded, not trusting herself to speak, handing Will off to Elizabeth, and gathering Nathan in her arms, needing to keep him close. And then the two women brought the boys up to the second floor in silence.

XXXXXX

"Fox, you're bleeding," Hannah sighed, handing him a towel. "Let me patch you up. It's been a few years, but I remember how."

Mulder looked at his hand in a daze. "What?" he asked, his speech slurred.

"You broke a glass," Hannah quietly told him, trying to find the first aid kit she knew Scully stored in the laundry room.

The nausea rose to his throat. "I threw it? In front of the kids?"

"No," Hannah quickly corrected him, eager to disabuse him of that motion. She knew all too well that he lived with enough guilt, most of it imagined. "You squeezed it so hard, it shattered. The boys are upstairs, so we have time to clean up the mess. Let's clean you up first."

Suddenly, Mulder felt the pain rip through his hand; it was though his nerve endings were on fire. He looked down, gulping at the sticky mess of blood and glass. "Don't move it," Hannah instructed, pouring hot water and liquid soap into a bowl. "Stay still."

"I need-" He was incredibly confused, unsure of whether what he remembered was real or imagined. "Is he okay? Does he hate me"

"Kyle is fine," Hannah assured him. "He's with Cooper. Dana and the boys are upstairs. Elisabeth's with her. And he doesn't hate you-that would never happen."

"I yelled," he quietly added.

"You both did," Hannah remarked, holding up his limp hand, trying to determine the extent of his injuries.

"I scared him."

Hannah held her tongue, focusing on her task. They were entering into territory in which she had no business commenting; and as much as she wanted to assure Mulder that he had done no such thing, she knew she could not do so, at least not this time.

XXXXXX

A few hours earlier, Kyle had thought that he had seen his father angry; but that afternoon display had nothing on what had just transpired in the kitchen. It wasn't so much what his father said, or how he said it, it was a combination of factors: the look on Mulder's face, the flicker in his eyes, the glass he shattered, the large step he had taken in his son's direction.

"Don't you _ever _fucking say that again. Do you understand? Do you?"

Kyle couldn't really remember what he he had been thinking; he wasn't even sure whether he even realized he had been talking out loud. All of the anger and anxiety from that afternoon had built up, and his misery reached its peak, and Nathan's temper tantrum just pushed him over the edge. He blurted out what he had been thinking ever since he had seen the contents of that safe.

What he hadn't counted on was seeing, right in front of him, everyone else's feelings on display: the crushed look on Dana's face, the dismay with which Hannah covered her own as she looked down to the ground, Elisabeth's shocked expression. Only Coop seemed to have taken his outburst in stride.

But what had caught him off guard was the anger with which his father had looked at him. For a split-second, Kyle hadn't even recognized his Mulder. When he had stepped towards him, Kyle had audibly gasped. But before he could do or say much of anything, Coop had led him away, keeping his hand firmly placed on his shoulder so he couldn't turn his head.

Kyle didn't talk until they made it outside, the brisk November air hitting them with full force. "I'm sorry," Kyle choked, tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"It's going to be fine," Coop promised, squeezing both of his shoulders. "It's just a bad day. We all have them."

"Are you alright?" Elisabeth asked Kyle, her face full of concern.

"Can you find his coat or a sweatshirt or something?"

Within seconds he had his jacket, and Coop led him to his car. "We're going for a drive," he announced. "Don't worry about your Dad. It's okay."

XXXXXX

Once Mulder remembered his outburst, two images played on loop in his mind: the devastation that crossed Scully's face, and the look of fear Kyle wore as he stepped towards him. "Fuck," he swore.

"The stinging will stop eventually," Hannah tsked as she dabbed the cuts on his hand. "But I think my medical expertise here is tapped. Dana's going to have to fish out the rest."

"It can wait," muttered Mulder. "I need-I need to see her."

"Be careful, Fox. Let me at least tie this rag so you won't bleed everywhere," fussed Hannah. "And don't let the kids climb all over you. Don't do anything that will push the glass any deeper."

Mulder wordlessly nodded, making his way upstairs. Hannah watched as he disappeared from view, saying a silent prayer that

XXXXXX

He heard voices echoing down the stairs, and traced them to Will's room. The one-year-old was in his favorite Big Bird pajamas, snuggled on the rocking chair with Elisabeth, Doggy, and his favorite blanket, reading a Winnie-the-Pooh story. "Good night, slugger," Mulder said softly, crouching next to them.

"Nigh-nigh," Will drowsily responded, his head tucked next to Elisabeth's chin.

"Do you want to-" Elisabeth began.

Mulder shook his head. "He's all settled," he answered, pressing a kiss on Will's brow.

It took all of his energy to stand up again and wander into Nathan's room, which was dark except for the soft glow emanating from his night light. He kneeled next to the bed, where Nathan was lying down, half-asleep, holding Woofy. In between him and the wall laid Scully, who was softly snoring.

"Happy birthday, buddy," Mulder whispered.

"I'm three," responded Nathan with a sleepy smile.

Mulder chuckled, content that his son was still excited about the minutes left he had on his special day. "I love you."

XXXXXX

He watched Nathan slowly drift asleep, and stayed by his side for several more minutes, trying to make sense of everything that had happened that afternoon. He gently shook Scully awake, helping her climb off the bed without disturbing their son. As soon as she reached the floor, he pulled her into a fierce embrace, his tears falling onto her neck and shoulder.

She couldn't tell whether she was being comforted or was the comforter; perhaps it was both. "I'm so sorry." His voice was muffled, so she could barely make out his words.

Somehow they made it into the hallway, shutting Nathan's door behind them. After quickly checking in on Will, Scully rejoined Mulder, gasping as she caught sight of his bandaged hand. "I broke a glass in my hand," he managed to say. "When I was yelling."

She looked shocked as she examined his wounds. "I don't remember," she responded. "Let me patch you up. I'm going to need to use tweezers."

They went to the kitchen, which for the first time all day, sat quiet. The shattered glass had been swept up, and the dishwasher was churning. Scully fetched a desk lamp from their bedroom, using it to provide some extra light over Mulder's hand. "These shards are small," she reported, now in full doctor mode. "This might take awhile."

"Does he hate me?" Mulder asked, glassy-eyed. Still smarting from the emotional pain caused by his earlier behavior, Mulder could barely feel the small tugs and pinches emanating from his hand.

Her heart sunk. "No, no," she soothed him. "He's angry at both of us, but I don't think he could ever hate you. He adores you, Mulder. You know that look on Nathan's face this afternoon, when he saw his cake? And this morning when he saw his present? It's just like the look on Kyle's face when you come home from a trip, and he hears you walk in the house."

He looked at her vacantly, as though he did not believe her. "I feel like I've gotten it all wrong, Scully. I thought everything's gotten better, but it hasn't," he grumbled, his voice raspy. "And what he said to you-"

Scully shook her head fiercely. "No. Not now, not until after he's home and we know he's okay," she interrupted.

"But-"

"Mulder, I can't," she sharply responded, dropping the tweezers with a clatter, immediately chastising herself for speaking so harshly.

"Listen to me," Mulder said through clenched teeth, grabbing her wrist with his good hand. "You are Nathan's mother."

"No-Mul-"

"You are his _only_ mother," he repeated, his eyes glazed over as he took in her gaunt expression.

She shook her head. Silent tears began to stream down her face, as she tried to maintain her composure. Before Mulder could react, she wiped them away. Seemingly ignoring everything and everyone, she picked up the tweezers, concentrating on the task that lay before her.

XXXXXX

Even after Mulder was patched up, complete with gauze and an ace bandage, she wouldn't let him comfort her, stepping away from his embrace both times he approached her. He knew it was one of her fiercest defense mechanisms, the barrier that had taken him the longest to dismantle. He tried hard to convince himself it wasn't a judgment on him per se, that she was trying to keep it together with Elisabeth and Hannah only a few feet away, two small children up the stairs, and another not-quite-son/not-quite-_not_-son, who was expected back home at any moment. Since she didn't trust herself to do much of anything, she curled up on the couch with one of Hannah's books as the other adults watched TV.

When he could no longer take the tension in the room, Mulder left to sit on the front stoop, shivering in the November cold. He didn't realize that Scully had followed him out until she spoke. "You shouldn't punish yourself like this, Mulder," she said, handing him his Yankees hoodie.

"You're doing the same thing," he pointed out, shrugging it on. "It's okay to admit he hurt your feelings."

"If I can't take it now, how will I take it if Nathan tells me the same thing, when he's old enough?" she said quietly, slipping inside.

They were both punishing themselves, he decided.

XXXXXX

When he saw Coop's car approach the townhouse, Mulder knew that he only had one chance to make it right, that the slightest hesitation could have irreparable ramifications. Coop climbed out of the driver's seat, folding his arms on the roof the vehicle. He gave a slight nod to Mulder, signaling to him that all was not lost, that things would eventually be alright.

It felt like an eternity, waiting for his son to leave the confines of the car. Finally, Kyle emerged, his face downcast and his steps tentative. Mulder knew that he needed to be decisive, and act for both of them. He briskly jogged down the steps to the sidewalk, enfolding his son in a fierce hug.

XXXXXX

"I'm so sorry," Kyle cried into his father's chest as they began to break apart. "I really am."

"I know you are. And I'm sorry too," Mulder gasped. "I didn't want any of this to happen this way. So let's take Bandit for a walk. I'll go get him, okay?"

Scully felt a lump in her throat when she saw Mulder enter into the house alone. "We're taking the dog out," he clarified. "It might be awhile."

She nodded, leaning against the wall, looking out the bay window, which afforded her a partial glimpse of Kyle. "Should I wait?" she asked. "Or would it be better if it were just you and him tonight?"

"Wait up, if you can, please," Mulder requested in a small voice. "I think we could at least try talking, the three of us."

He was half-out the door when she called out, "I love you."

He stopped, and turned around. "I know."

XXXXXX

Not even a cup of ginger tea could quell the nausea that rocked her stomach as she waited for Mulder and Kyle to return. She briefly entertained the notion of cleaning up the office, to at least have a sense of what Kyle could have seen, but discarded it quickly. After all, the contents of the safe were already etched in her memory. Instead, she debated with herself over whether she was a complete hypocrite; less than eight months after asking her partner to never again commit a lie of omission, they were found out by his son for that very same behavior.

Or was it the same? She couldn't decide. The obvious difference in the situations was that Kyle was a child, and shouldn't have to live out the consequences of adults' decisions. In shielding him from the choices made by his birth mother, he instead became subject to an action made by his father and stepmother, which came along with its own set of ramifications.

When she heard the scuffling at the front door, she snuck a look at the mantle clock: how could it only be 9 PM? She wiped her eyes and smoothed down her hair, determined to get through another difficult conversation.

She stood up with trepidation when she heard them approach the living room. One moment, she was alone, and the next, she was awkwardly staring at Kyle, gangly and nervous. "Let's sit," suggested Mulder.

Why was she so surprised when her partner chose the seat next to her on the couch? She must have looked nervous, as the first thing he did was squeeze her thigh, leaving his palm on her leg. "Kyle has some questions about the things he saw this afternoon, and I thought it would be better if we waited to talk about them until we got home," Mulder explained. "But there's one thing I want to say first. We will talk about privacy later, but I've told you time and again, Kyle, that a service weapon is nothing to play with. I taught you better than that. You put yourself, your friend, and your brothers, at risk, not to mention everyone who was visiting today. And you will be punished for that."

"I know." Kyle looked contrite, chastened by his father's words.

"I think you do," Mulder agreed, glancing over at Scully, who still looked nervous. "So Kyle, what do you want to ask us?"

XXXXXX

Scully cringed as Kyle asked his first question. Her heart began to race a mile a minute, and she was beginning to doubt every decision she and Mulder had made over the past several months. "You told me over the summer that you didn't know about Nathan, but that file said that you did."

She felt Mulder's hand on her thigh grow heavy, and clasped it with her own in response. He glanced over at her quickly, and she nodded, chewing on her lower lip. He cleared his throat and said, "We didn't know about Nathan," Mulder began. "When we found out about him and Will, and picked them up in South Carolina, that folder was with their stuff. It's a security measure, to protect us in case someone starts asking questions. I know that folder states that your mother and I entered into an agreement with a surrogate to give birth to Nathan. That part isn't true, but it explains why your mother was never pregnant with him."

"So you and Mom didn't decide to have another kid after me?"

"We got it right the first time, bud," Mulder answered, beginning to relax when he saw Kyle crack a smile.

"But if Mom comes back, what happens?"

"The plan won't change, Kyle. You stay here, with us." Mulder patiently explained. "Dana and I have full custody of you, and Dana is Nathan's legal parent. Your mother doesn't have any legal rights to him."

"When are you going to tell him?"

"He's too young to understand right now," pointed out Mulder. "But when we do know it's the right time, we're going to talk about it as a family, okay? And I know that you understand this, Kyle, but it's my job and Dana's job to tell him. Not yours. I can't stress that enough. And no more saying things like what you said at dinner."

Kyle nodded. "I shouldn't have said it, I know. I'm sorry."

"We have to ask, Kyle, but did Chloe see the file?"

He hesitated before nodding. "Only the birth certificate. She didn't see the other stuff."

"I can talk to Stella," Scully said softly. She felt as though she should be participating in this conversation, but she was left grasping for the right words. It seemed as though every time she opened her mouth, she made the situation a little bit worse.

Kyle looked up. "I'll tell Chloe it's a secret. She won't tell anybody"

Mulder and Scully looked at one another; Kyle clearly didn't understand that the situation had become a bit more complicated than he assumed, but they appreciated that he was beginning to realize the consequences of his actions.

"Good idea," Mulder responded with a tight-lipped smile. "Do you have any other questions?"

"Yeah. Why didn't you tell me you know where Aunt Samantha is?" Kyle's voice grew more terse. He was relieved that the conversation had moved away from what he had said in the kitchen. Saying her name made him realize how confused he was—wouldn't finding her be good news? So why was he not told? Why would his father make him worry about her when there was really nothing to worry about?

"I don't know for sure where she is, buddy," Mulder confessed. "I think she's in Switzerland, but I'm not one hundred percent positive."

"So why don't you call her? Or visit her?" Kyle frantically asked. Nothing was making sense.

"Because I think she's in hiding, and I don't want to compromise her safety." His voice was growing testy, and Scully could feel his heart beating from her perch beside him. "And that's all you need to know."

"Why?" repeated Kyle.

"Because I'm your father and I'm trying to protect you, Kyle!" Mulder nearly yelled. "And you are just going to have to accept this. It's hard for me to accept too, but I have to let it go, at least for now."

"But it doesn't make any sense," the eleven-year-old protested.

"Life doesn't make sense sometimes. And you might as well get used to it," snapped Mulder.

Scully sensed the tension in the room, and not wanting their family meeting to end on a sour note, spoke up. "It's getting late. Maybe we should talk more tomorrow night?"

"I think that might be a good idea," agreed Mulder.

"You always do what she wants to do," Kyle stubbornly responded, rushing out of the room, his loud steps thumping the staircase.

Mulder closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "I think I have whiplash," he muttered.

XXXXX

"How was your walk?" asked Scully as they settled into bed.

"It was good, I think. He talked a lot, which was a good sign," Mulder attempted to explain, feeling completely drained. "He thinks that I like Nathan and Will more than him."

Scully saw the hurt look on Mulder's face. "How so?"

"Everything," Mulder shrugged with a sigh as Scully rested her head in the crook of his arm. "Spending time playing with them, reading bedtime stories every night with them, the whole nine yards. Like taking Nathan to the preschool appointment, and a few weeks ago, when we went to the museum and he wanted to stay? He didn't think it was fair for me to choose naptime over him. All I could do, Scully, was listen. I knew that if I started to explain anything he would take it the wrong way. I'm going to have to have another difficult talk with him."

Scully sat up on her side, resting her head on right hand. "Can you leave work early one day this week and pick him up from school, and then take a drive or get dinner or something?"

"I could," Mulder said, wondering why that thought hadn't crossed his mind before. "But will you be okay with the kids for that long?"

"Of course," she responded, giving him a soft kiss. "You need time alone with him, and he needs it with you. Hannah's here. If I need you, I'll call you."

"I'll take off early tomorrow," he vowed.

Scully traced a few circles on his chest. "Just keep your phone on, Mulder. I can't deal with another sleepless night wondering whether everything was okay."

"We won't be going far," Mulder assured her.

"That's not the point, Mulder. I just need to be able to get a hold of you."

"I know what you meant," rushed Mulder, playing with her fiery hair. "I'll have it on me, don't worry. I learned my lesson last week."

Scully draped her leg over his, stretching her left arm across him. "Nathan was over the moon today," Scully recalled. "He had the biggest smile on his face. And so did Will. I just want one day when all three of them are that happy."

"Christmas," mused Mulder. "They all have to be happy on Christmas. We'll make it happen, Scully."

"We're not bribing the boys."

"I'm not talking bribery, Scully. I save that for preschools." He looked down to see that she had in fact stifled a small laugh at his remark. "I have this vision, Scully. Christmas tree in the living room, the fireplace roaring, three kids and a puppy playing with wrapping paper. Bing Crosby playing in the background."

"I never took you for a Norman Rockwell enthusiast," Scully remarked.

"It's going to be real, Scully, not some whimsical display of nostalgia. The five of us are going to be in the same room at the same time because we want to be."

Scully's heart swelled at the sound of the fierce determination in his voice. They both wanted it so badly, and what they left unsaid was the fear that their hopes would be dashed. "We have eight weeks, Scully," Mulder said into the crown of her hair. "It's going to be hard, but we'll get there."

"How can I make it better? I feel like I'm just making it worse. I'm so all over the place, Mulder, and I'm not used to that," she confided.

He tightened his hold around her. "But you're holding us all together. You're the glue, Scully. It might not feel like it, but you are."

She burrowed into him a little more, her left hand trailing lower, eliciting a small hiss from Mulder, who turned into her a little more.

"And let me just say one thing, Scully. Something which I am going to repeat to you every night. You are Nathan's mother."

"I'm too tired to talk," she responded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Can you love me instead?"

"Always."

XXXXX

Mulder paid careful attention to his son that morning, noting that he only talked to Hannah during breakfast, and ignored Scully every time she said something. His psychology training reminded him that Kyle was acting like any adolescent struggling to understand complicated familial truths, but it didn't make it any easier to watch. As much as he wanted to say something right then and there, he knew that Kyle was trying to get a rise out of him.

He managed to remain silent until they got into the car. "Did you apologize to Dana yet?"

"I said sorry last night when we were talking," muttered Kyle, knowing full-well that it was not what his father was thinking of in terms of an apology.

"When we were out with Bandit last night you promised that you would apologize," Mulder reminded him.

"I didn't get a chance to," Kyle lied. "But I'll do it tonight."

"I'm holding you to that."

Kyle didn't say much on the ride to school, even after they had picked up Colin. He was still upset about the previous day's events, and was even more confused about his family than ever before. Still, he wouldn't admit to himself that perhaps his father was right, and it was up to the adults to decide what he should know.

He found Chloe before homeroom. "My dad said you shouldn't say anything about the Nathan thing," he muttered.

"Yeah, I figured," sighed Chloe. "How much trouble are you in?"

"A lot," Kyle explained. "I said something I shouldn't have last night, so I'm in even more hot water. My dad hasn't even decided what my punishment should be."

"I got the worst lecture ever. And I'm not allowed to do much of anything until after Christmas. I'm figuring they'll forget after the baby is born, and maybe, if they don't get too much sleep, I'll be back to watching TV and using the phone before then. I also have to write an apology letter to your parents."

"I wish things were better," Kyle said as the bell rang, signaling the start of the school day. But he wasn't sure what he exactly meant by that. Maybe he just wished that things were different.

XXXXX

She hated to admit that Kyle's outburst the previous evening had such a profound effect on her. As she went about her day, Scully kept wondering about Nathan's hypothetical reaction to the news, and whether the knowledge that his biological mother was someone else would damage their relationship. She knew she was overthinking it, but she couldn't stop just the same.

Once the errands were completed, the park conquered as much as Nathan's cast and Will's stuffy nose allowed, and lunch made, Scully picked up the phone to call Stella, figuring she had nothing to lose by having another awkward conversation. To her surprise, the other woman was nonplussed by the situation. "We feel terrible, Dana," she explained. "Horrified, really. She knows better."

"Did she tell you what she found?" Scully asked, not knowing whether she wanted the answer to be yes or no.

"She did, eventually," continued Stella. "And we told her that information shouldn't be shared with anyone else, and that families can be complicated. I promise you that she won't say a word."

"Thank you," Scully responded, relieved. "I'm sorry you guys got caught in the middle of this."

"It sounds like you had a tough day yesterday. I'm working from home this week, if you want to have lunch in the next few days, if you have the time," Stella tentatively offered.

Although her first instinct was to refuse the invitation, Scully found herself saying yes. "Would you mind if I went?" Scully asked Hannah, feeling like a teenager who who needed permission before leaving the house.

"Of course not, Dana," Hannah answered. "You hardly take time for yourself. Don't go feeling guilty on me."

"I already have plenty of that for all of us," Scully promised with a snort. She hadn't felt the tears begin to drop down her face, but all of a sudden she couldn't stop crying. "I'm not this person, Hannah. I'm not someone who is constantly in tears and who becomes so emotional. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Dana," Hannah reasoned, putting an arm around the younger woman, leading her to the living room to sit. "You are going through so much right now. It's just catching up to you. You've been throwing your energy into the birthday party and searching for schools, and now that those are finished, you are coming up for air. Not to mention the trial, the newspapers."

"I feel like I'm just making things worse and worse for Kyle and Mulder," Scully explained. "Every time I think I figure out what I'm doing, things change. And it's weighing on me."

"You need to talk to both of them about this," counseled Hannah. "It's not going to be easy, but you can't work through problems if you don't share what they are."

XXXXX

The grin on his son's face when he walked into the gym and sat in the bleachers made Mulder smile himself. He knew that he would have to put in an hour or so of work later that night, but it would be a small price to pay. He was easily able to rationalize his decision to sneak out earl; he was consulting on a case from the San Diego field office, and wouldn't have the results of some forensic tests on evidence until the end of the West Coast workday.

As he watched the boys' scrimmage, Mulder thought about how lucky he was to be able to attend, and chided himself for not having snuck out of work early more often. When Kyle ran up to him after practice ended, he announced that they would be taking a ride. "Where to?" Kyle asked, excited.

"You'll see," Mulder responded, excited and relieved to see that his son was in such a good mood.

It took nearly forty-five minutes in rush hour traffic, but they finally made it to their destination: Mulder's old apartment building. "Remember this place?" Mulder asked Kyle, who nodded.

"Are we going inside?"

"No, I'm going to tell you a story," Mulder explained, rolling up his shirt sleeves. "This was where I used to live, which I know you already know. But it wasn't my home."

Kyle looked at him quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"It was like a glorified hotel room. I don't have many happy memories of this place. I ate there, I slept there, but I was just going through the motions."

"So why didn't you move?"

"I did," shrugged Mulder. "I moved in with Dana, and then we moved together with you. Your home is with the people you love."

Kyle rolled his eyes.

"Cut it out," Mulder said, albeit good naturedly. "What I'm trying to tell you is that when I was living here, I wasn't able to spend a lot of time with you, and I'll always regret that. I cherish the moments we spent together, and I know you remember a lot of the trips we took, and the museum visits and the fun stuff. But there's a lot of things that you probably don't remember, since you were so little."

"I have a distinct memory of sitting on my couch up there on the fourth floor, thinking about how lucky I had been to spend some time feeding the ducks at the pond with you when you were two. You loved that so much. You would run around and say 'quack-quack' and throw bread at them. And I remember calling to check-in on you after you were asleep, and I would hear about your day from your mother or your nanny. I was here when I talked to your mom and she told me about how you cried at the aquarium because you wanted to play with the fish, and when you first read a book to her without any help."

"So?" Kyle asked softly, still confused.

"I missed out on a lot of stuff with you when you were a kid, and I don't want to have to miss out on it with Will and Nathan. I get to be at our home and do these things I never really go to do with you every night. Right now, I have what I always wanted-to live with you. I have two other fantastic boys who remind me so much of you, and I get to be there for them every day. For a long time, I never thought I would have other kids. And I just get caught up in it, that I forget sometimes that you still need me around even though you are eleven and can do a lot of things on your own, with your own friends."

Father and son sat in silence for a few moments. "I'm going to try to be better," Mulder finally continued. "When I get home, especially when it's late, I'm thinking that I want to spend time with you three kids before you go to bed, and they have an earlier bedtime. I'm thinking that Dana needs help. I'm thinking that I'll only get ten, fifteen minutes of time with your brothers before they go to bed. Those are the things I'm thinking of when I walk through the door at night. So when I don't get to start watching TV with you or talk to you as soon as I'm in the house, it's not because you are in second place. It's because you can stay up past seven forty-five without having a complete meltdown. So let's try and help each other to get some quality us time, okay?"

"Okay," Kyle agreed, brightening. "And can we do stuff, just me and you?"

"I would love that," replied Mulder. "But I need you to keep up your end of the bargain. You need to respect my privacy and Dana's privacy. You need to understand that if we don't tell you something, it's because you don't have to worry about it. And you need to lighten up on Dana. She's trying her best, and you need to meet her halfway. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Kyle quietly responded.

"And when we're home we are going to discuss your punishment. But for now, how about some diner food? Hamburgers and french fries with lots of salt?"

Twenty minutes later, they arrived at one of Mulder's favorite greasy spoons. "Can you order me a medium rare cheeseburger if they come over while I'm in the bathroom?" Mulder asked Kyle as he got up from his seat.

Thirty seconds later, the eleven-year-old felt his father's cell phone vibrating on the table. He groaned when he saw their home number show up on the display screen. All he wanted was some time alone with his father, without Dana or his brothers interfering. Impulsively, Kyle disconnected the call and then turned the handset off.

Meanwhile, in Georgetown, Scully hit the redial button on her phone, swearing when she heard his voicemail message. "Mulder where are you? Please pick up. I need you to call me immediately."


	41. Chapter Forty

Author's Note: Hi everyone! I want to start off by saying something completely unrelated to fandom. There should be no room in this world for such hate; the atrocity that occurred last night was horrific and heartbreaking. My heart and thoughts are with the family and friends of the victims. Hug your friends and keep them close, and practice kindness and compassion in your everyday actions.

I want to say that I'm incredibly touched by the outpouring of reviews and messages I've received-it has all really blown me away. I apologize that I've been slow to update: the past couple of weeks have been filled with travel and work (which is part of the reason why I posted two chapters within a week back in May).

But more importantly, I wanted to let you know that I really do listen to reader feedback, and I've heard the message loud and clear about the direction that I've been taking with the Kyle character. I hate to think that I disappointed you guys, and I'm course correcting. So please bear through a couple of scenes in this chapter which I needed to add to tie up a couple of loose ends. All of my readers have been loyal and have stuck with this for so long, and I want you to know that I'm always available by PM or by email, and would love to hear your thoughts.

Thanks again for all of your support, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

XXXXXX

Her hands were shaking so hard that it took Scully a couple of tries before she correctly hit Mulder's number on speed dial. She winced as she heard the familiar sound of his voice mail greeting, and grimly left a message, hoping that he wasn't too far away from home. She wasn't sure how much longer she could cope on her own.

It had been a trying day even before she found the envelope in the basket at the bottom of the stroller. Looking back, it was probably blessing in disguise that she hadn't noticed it until late afternoon, when the boys were occupied by _Sesame Street_, allowing her a few moments to sort through the overstuffed diaper bag. The envelope, along with a handful of animal crackers and Will's stained shirt, had fluttered to the floor as she tugged the tote free.

She hadn't recognized the handwriting, and despite the DKS marked on the upper right hand corner of the flap, she was certain that it probably had mistakenly found its way into their things. After all, they had covered a lot of ground that day, having first stopped at the park before story hour at the library, followed by quick trips to the dry cleaner and the market on their way home. With all that stopping and starting, it wouldn't be a surprise if they had accidentally picked up a loose item along the way. She usually tried to break up her errands over the week, but since the boys were still over exhausted from the excitement of the birthday party, she decided to tire them out instead, hoping they would settle into a long nap that afternoon.

Unfortunately, her plan had backfired. While Will had managed to sleep for a bit in the stroller, Nathan had resolutely stayed awake, fighting the drowsiness that was overtaking him. After they got home, she had told Nathan that he needed to at least lie down, but as soon as her back was turned, he was on the floor of his room with Woofy and George the monkey, babbling to them about not wanting to nap, waking his brother in the process.

So Scully threw some pillows and blankets on the living room floor, knowing that they would both fall asleep soon enough. Bandit promptly took the bait and curled up between the brothers, promptly falling asleep. Will shared his blanket with the puppy and joined him in dreamland. Although Nathan tried his best to stay awake, he eventually fell asleep.

Scully took advantage of the peace and quiet, knowing that it would be fleeting. She wanted to make sure she didn't forget to throw Will's apple juice-soaked t-shirt and grass stained hoodie in with the afternoon laundry, which led to a more thorough cleanout of everything that had accumulated in the diaper bag.

That was when the envelope caught her eye. She picked it up, frowning, wondering what it could possibly be. She carefully opened it to find a small, color-faded photo with 8294 Westerwick 1966 scrawled lightly in pencil on the back. She set the envelope down on the counter and stared at the photo.

She a saw a couple crouching over two little girls, all them of the smiling in what appeared to be a courtyard dotted with flowers, and an imposing cast iron fence looming in the background. The uniformed man was steadying a toddler with bouncing corkscrew curls precariously held back by a barrette, and the woman held the other, who had slightly darker hair that was just as curly, clad in the same dress.

Scully steadied her hands, pulling the photo closer. She flipped it over, taking a closer look at the handwriting. She then grabbed the envelope, peering into it. Something caught her eye. With a pair of scissors, she carefully cut the envelope along its sides. Laying it down flat, she made out another note scratched in pencil.

_Inside out_.

A jolt ripped through her. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. After checking in on the boys in the living room, Scully unlocked the office door. Neither she nor Mulder had the energy to clean it up the previous evening, so she bypassed the mess and walked in front of the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf that took up one wall.

She quickly scanned the shelves, which held an eclectic mix of Mulder's favorite books, ranging from abnormal psychology texts, to myths and legends, to _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_, as well as the classics she favorited, such as _Breakfast at Tiffany's _and _Cold Comfort Farm_. Some of the boys' books had found their way to the bottom shelf, along with a pile of magazines and catalogues.

Carefully, she pulled out a keepsake box that had been wedged between some leather bound photo albums. She sank on the couch, placing the lid next to her before gingerly fumbling through the hodgepodge of items, all of which she had found in her father's desk soon after his death. Cleaning it out, along with his closet, were the only two tasks that Margaret had requested of her daughter during those dark days. While Scully took solace in the fact that her father would have wanted his clothing to have been donated to a veterans' shelter and his books to have been divided amongst his children, it had been those random items scattered around his things that had tugged her heartstrings. Although she didn't need the pebbles or the shoelaces or the pens, the last thing she wanted to do was throw them away. So she had carried them with her from her parents' home to her old apartment, and now to the new house.

She pushed aside the rocks and the keychains and the rosary and at the bottom of the box, she found it. Swallowing, she picked up the photo and looked at the back. At the bottom edge of the photo, she read one word. _Family_.

Scully had no idea as to how long she was staring at the photo before fifty pounds of toddler hurdled toward her, the two boys scampering to sit on her lap. She quickly tossed the box onto Mulder's desk, not wanting the contents to be subject to the prying hands of curious children. "What's that?" Nathan asked, his interest immediately peaked.

"Nothing, monkey," responded Scully, pulling him onto her lap as he lunged towards the desk. "Bullfrog, can you pick out a book for us to read?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Did you just turn off my phone?"

Kyle looked at his father and gulped. "Yeah," he answered with a small voice. Judging by the look his father was giving him, he knew that he was in trouble. The kind of trouble that he wouldn't be able to talk himself out of, at least not easily. "Uncle Charlie used to do it with you and Dana, when you weren't looking."

"What is going on with you?" Mulder asked in a concerned voice after telling the waitress they would be taking their dinner to go. "I'm seriously worried, Kyle. For a while there, I thought things were better. But the stunts you have been pulling have been unacceptable. I know this year has sucked for you, but everything you are doing now-snooping around the house, sharing every unkind thought that goes through your head, the way you have been treating everyone, all of that has to stop. Doing those things isn't going to change what happened. So what is it?"

"It's because everyone just keeps disappearing, so why bother trying," Kyle explained, his hazel eyes sad. He pushed around the menu in front of him, looking down at the table. "Mom, Uncle Charlie, Uncle Frohike. My friends in New York. I got used to Hannah being around, but then we moved and now she's back, but she's not staying."

"I haven't disappeared," Mulder pointed out. "I go on work trips, but I come back."

"But one day you won't," his son insisted.

Mulder's frustration hit its breaking point. He was tired of moving around in circles, of tip-toeing around his son. "Why do you keep saying this? What have I done or said that has you so convinced that I am leaving?"

"Because I keep having the same nightmare," Kyle blurted out. "Every night. You're gone, and I can't find you anywhere. And..."

"And what?"

"There's a baby. I really think she's my sister. I'm trying to make sure she doesn't cry. She's really scared."

Mulder sat up, alarmed. His heart began to race as the questions piled up in his head, thinking about his own recurring dream: an oblivious Nathan and Will, with the dog; Samantha and her daughter; a surly Kyle, with a baby; and not being able to find Scully. "How do you know it's your sister?"

"I just do."

"Do you know where everyone else is?" Mulder knew he had to tread carefully.

"Dana's with me, kind of. I mean, she says that I have to stay in this room with the baby. Will and Nathan and Bandit are okay, they are somewhere else but they are safe and don't realize what's going on."

"Have you told Dr. Meadows about this?"

Kyle started wiggling around in his seat. "Once."

"Kyle, he can't help you if he doesn't know what's happening. If you are having the same dream every night-you have to talk to him about it. And I need you to know that I would _never ever _choose to leave you and your brothers. You need to be honest with me, and tell me if you keep having these dreams. There are things we can do to help you with this. Talk to Dr. Meadows, maybe a neurologist. You need to be able to sleep through the night. When did this start?"

"When you came back home from the hospital, after you had that case in California."

"So it's the same dream from where you got Bandit's name?"

"You remembered?" Kyle asked, surprised.

"Of course I did, buddy," Mulder responded, wondering whether Scully would be able to get them to see a pediatric neurologist. He thought briefly of contacting Dr. Werber, but quickly dismissed that notion; after all, this was his son, not a case. "But right now, we need to talk about some new ground rules at home."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Scully could barely concentrate on reading aloud the _Arthur _books, and she knew that the boys could sense her restlessness. They were still overly tired after eating a too late lunch followed by too short naps, and they made their crankiness known to their mother. Scully tried to ignore the crying and the whining as she threw together an easy dinner for them, thinking that it was only natural for the kids to have meltdowns on an afternoon without Elisabeth or Hannah.

Soon after they ate, Nathan completely lost it when Will got hold of one of his trains, and in retaliation, grabbed his younger brother's favorite dinosaur, which resulted in both boys sobbing and Scully supervising a double timeout. Sneaking a peek at the clock, she could barely believe that it was only just past six. "Nathan, why don't we all play with your castle together?" she suggested.

"No," he pouted, crossing his arms in front of him.

Scully rubbed her forehead. "Sharing makes things more fun," she reminded him for the tenth time that day. "What if your trains went up the drawbridge and Will's dinosaurs play in the moat?"

She quickly rearranged their toys before either boy could protest. "See, everything fits this way."

The boys managed to cooperate for an entire ten minutes before the next disaster struck, when Will smacked his head against the coffee table. He was wailing too loudly for any of them to hear Mulder and Kyle enter the house. "Your voicemail just went through," Mulder said, slightly alarmed, as soon as he walked into the living room, reaching out his arms to grab hold of Will. "Someone thought it would be funny if he turned off my phone."

"I said I was sorry," Kyle protested, flopping down on the couch.

"What happened?" Mulder asked, searching her eyes for some sort of clue as to what had been happening.

"Will here just hit his head," Scully explained, examining Will as best she could as he squirmed in his father's arms. "It's going to bruise but I don't think he did any real damage."

Mulder could immediately tell that Will wasn't the reason why she had called earlier, and the way she chewed her lower lip confirmed for him that they would not be able to discuss the matter in front of the kids. "What?" Mulder asked softly, Will's bellows drowning out the sound of his voice. "What happened?"

All of a sudden, Scully felt warm and dizzy, her ears ringing from Will's cries. "I need a minute," she responded. "It's been a long day."

Mulder nodded, telling her to take as much time as she needed. He watched her leave the room and head towards the staircase, wondering what was going on, his thoughts interrupted when Nathan tugged his suit jacket. "Play with me," he begged.

"I have an idea. Why doesn't Kyle play with you first? You need to show him your castle. I don't think he's had a chance to see it yet," Mulder suggested, registering the look of shock on his oldest son's face. "Then we can play together."

"Maybe you would like your brothers better if you got to know them," he explained. "You are going to start by keeping Nathan occupied while I calm down Will and make a phone call for work. It will only take twenty minutes."

"But I have homework."

"You'll get it done," he promised, trying not to roll his eyes. "And when you do, it will be down here, with everyone else. That's the new rule, and don't think for a moment that you'll be able to talk your way out of it with Hannah or Elisabeth."

Mulder shifted Will in his arms, carrying him into the office. Stepping around the papers still scattered on the floor, Mulder made his way to his desk, pushing everything to one side. He settled Will on his lap, kissing the top off his hair as he turned on his computer. "Oh buddy," he sighed. "Does your head still hurt?"

Mulder did his best to read through his work email as Will kept trying to play with the keyboard and the mouse, squawking as his father tried to keep everything out of reach. Just as he declared it a losing battle, a new email appeared on screen, requesting that he call the Seattle office immediately. "Fuck," he muttered.

As soon as he saw his father grab the phone, Will decided that was what he now wanted to play with, and began to whine when Mulder placed him on the floor. "You're going to have to be quiet, slugger," Mulder told him before he switched on the speakerphone function and gathered the one-year-old back in his arms.

Conducting a conference call with a fidgety toddler on hand was far from ideal, especially since he kept having to mute and unmute his line. Will's blabbering only became louder, and when he glimpsed Scully walking down the hall, Mulder made his apologies to his colleagues and promised to call them back in a moment. "Scully!" he bellowed, trying to shift Will onto the floor.

"No!" Will protested, kicking up a storm in a lame attempt to prevent his father from putting him down.

"What do you need?" Scully asked, backtracking into the office. Just as she started to ask Mulder to wait until she could at least get something to eat, he spoke first.

"Can't you just take him? I was on an important call. I do have to work, you know," Mulder snapped, not realizing how terse he sounded until he saw a hurt expression cross her face.

"Right, because I'm not," Scully curtly responded, hardening her resolve as she picked up a sobbing Will. "Thanks for the reminder. We better get out of your way then."

"I didn't mean-"

He winced as her heard the door slam behind her.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It took her nearly a half-hour to calm down Will, whose sobs began to soften when she poured some bubble bath into the tub. By the time she got him into his pajamas, she was determined to write a thank you letter to Johnson &amp; Johnson. Exhausted, he fell asleep before she even finished his bedtime story.

When she returned downstairs for Nathan, she was surprised to see him and Kyle sprawled on the living room floor. Nathan was behind his castle, and Kyle was on his stomach behind his history textbook, which was standing upright, flanked by the dinosaurs.

"It's bathtime, monkey," Scully tiredly told the three-year-old.

"Daddy play," he stubbornly responded.

"Daddy's working," she explained, kneeling down next to him. "It's time for a bath, then a bedtime story, and then-"

"Noooooo!"

Exhausted, Scully was tempted not to warn him with a timeout, but knew she had to follow through. "Dad said he would play with him," Kyle offered before she could decide whether she should threaten him with two minutes or three. "That's why he told me to play with him instead."

"When was this?"

"Before you started fighting."

Scully sighed, sitting on the floor between the boys, thankful that there hadn't been too much for them to overhear. "It's been a stressful day," she began, picking up a dinosaur, fiddling with it as she thought of what. "And your Dad and I argue sometimes."

"Are you angry?"

Scully shook her head. "No," she admitted. "I'm annoyed, and a little upset, but I'm not angry with him. But that's something your father and I will talk about tonight."

Kyle started to speak, but then trailed off. He sat up, twirling his pencil in one hand, and half heartedly moving a triceratops closer to Nathan's castle.

"Tell me what you're thinking," encouraged Scully.

"Dad works a lot," he quietly pondered, finally looking up at his stepmother. "And...and that's why he and Mom got divorced."

Scully could feel the hairs on her neck stand up. "Kyle," she leaned towards him. "Your Dad and I aren't splitting up. Yes his job is demanding right now; that's part of the reason I'm not working. But we're going to figure this out together. You are going to overhear us argue sometimes, and you can't keep thinking that it's something you need to be concerned about. I'm not saying that arguing is a good thing, but it means we're trying to communicate, and we're not bottling things up inside. We're not going to let his job break up our family."

She felt Nathan brush up against her leg, and realized that he was running towards Mulder, who was leaning against the entryway of the room. "Hey, monkey," he picked up middle son, swinging him a bit in the air, prompting him to giggle. "Aren't you up way past your bedtime?"

He snuck a peek at Scully, who was giving him a pointed look. "I know, I know," he rushed. "I'm sorry I didn't get to play with you, buddy. But how about I give you a bath and then two stories? And then we'll play tomorrow night."

Smooth recovery, she thought. Her partner definitely knew he had screwed up. She sat back, resting her head against the couch, looking at father and son. Although she didn't relish the thought of Mulder wallowing in guilt, it probably wouldn't hurt for him to be reminded about how stubborn the kids could be when they were overtired.

Scully couldn't hold back a smile when she heard Nathan's wail of protest, followed by Mulder's panic face. "He's all yours. I'm going to make some dinner," she said, standing up.

"You haven't eaten yet?" Mulder asked, perplexed. "It's eight thirty. You should have said something."

Half amused, half exasperated, Scully arched her eyebrows, watching Mulder's expression change from confused to contrite. "Oh."

"Night-night, monkey," she said as she walked up to them, kissing Nathan's forehead. "I love you."

"What about me?" whined Mulder, using his little boy voice.

"I love you even when you're a jerk," she promised, pressing her lips to his right shoulder blade.

He called out after her as she headed to the kitchen. "Scully? What I said wasn't right, especially since I know you miss it. What you're doing-it's more than a full time job. And a hell of a lot more important."

"Thanks," she softly said, her voice drowned out by Nathan's loudening protests that he didn't want a bath.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The photos on the kitchen counter jerked her back to reality. She did her best to ignore them as she made a salad, cutting up some leftover chicken, trying to determine whether Mulder would want to eat anything as well; it was going to be a long night.

"What's the ruckus upstairs?" Hannah asked, taking off her coat.

Scully whipped around. "How was your day with your niece?"

"Wonderful, exhausting, glad I only do it a few times a year," she rattled. "The play was wonderful. And judging by all this noise, I'm thinking that I picked a good day for it."

Scully weakly smiled as she put the rest of the food back in the fridge. "Mulder got caught up with a work thing, and completely lost track of time after promising Nathan they would play. At one point they woke up Will. I'm staying out of it."

"Good for you," Hannah surmised, putting the kettle on for some tea.

As the noise prattled on, Scully was tempted to go upstairs and see what exactly was happening on the second floor, but knew it was best for Mulder to handle the situation on his own. When he reappeared downstairs a half-hour later, he looked beaten. "So I'm guessing it's been like this all day?"

"Welcome to my world," she responded, before telling him that she had set aside some food. She could see that he was trying very hard not to react to the fact that it was a salad. "But toddlers acting like toddlers isn't why I called you home."

Mulder nodded, waiting for her to continue. "Someone left an envelope in the stroller. I found it this afternoon."

His eyes widened. "When?"

She shrugged. "I'm assuming while we were out this morning. It was in the basket on the bottom. I didn't see it until I unpacked it when we got home."

"Would it have been left here yesterday?"

The question caught her off-guard, sending a shiver down her back; she hadn't considered that possibility. Although she didn't want to think of the implications of Mulder's suggestion, she knew that he had a point. After all, they barely knew some of their birthday party guests.

"No," she firmly responded after a moment. "I would have seen it when I got the kids ready this morning."

He let out a sigh of relief. "What was in it?"

She left the table and walked across the room, picking up the envelope and photo. "The pencil marks are light, but still legible," she pointed out, tracing the scrawls with her index finger. He held it up towards the light.

"Is this you?" he asked, glancing between the photo and his partner. "And your father?"

Scully sighed, crossing her arms against her chest. "I'm sure it is," she explained.

"And this woman? And the other girl?"

She shook her head. "I have no idea. But, I've seen this picture before," she explained, giving Mulder the second copy. "It was in my father's desk. I found it when he died."

He flipped it over, reading the caption. "Could it be a cousin?"

"I guess I thought so, before today," Scully shrugged. "I really didn't think about it before, I just assumed that based on 'family.' But my father didn't have any sisters, and his brothers' wives looked nothing like this."

"Do you know where it was taken?"

"Berlin is the most obvious choice," she sighed, leaning against the counter. "Given the date of the photo. Mulder, it can't be a coincidence that I'm getting this as the trial is wrapping up. I know that I've tried not to get too involved, but this...this picture makes it more personal somehow. I need to know what this all means."

He nodded, taking in Scully's conflicted expression. "Seeing the medical records from my hospitalization...it was difficult, but I was able to detach myself. But this...I was not even Nathan's age. Maybe it's just the visual of me with my father, and seeing you with the boys. Looking at this, it's a completely different feeling than reading through a file."

"What if you made contact with Thomas Maxwell? We both know this probably came from him," Mulder suggested, leaning over the countertop, resting his weight on his forearms so he faced Scully. "Despite his tendency to show up when we least expect it, he also left his contact information with Preston, back in September."

"But what if it wasn't him?" Scully asked.

"Would you consider approaching your mother?" Mulder asked, despite knowing the answer to that question.

Scully tried to keep her emotions in check as she continued. "No, I doubt she would talk about it, even if we were on speaking terms. She never used to really mention Germany after we got back. Charlie inherited some books from the Captain. There might be a journal or a diary that could shed some light on this. But he's not here."

Mulder flinched. "Do you want to go up to Boston and see if you can find anything?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I'll see what I can find out on my own first. I don't want Karen to think that I'm assuming Charlie won't be coming back. I'm not fishing for information, Mulder. I know you can't say anything."

He slumped further onto the counter. "He's…" Mulder began, before trailing off, not wanting to make any promises he wouldn't be able to keep.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They lapsed into silence before parting, each trying to wrap up some end-of-day chores before they slept. Mulder approached their bedroom with some trepidation, unsure whether he needed to further press Scully into another serious conversation. The entire day had been marked by a series of screwups, and he wasn't sure whether in trying to clear the air, he would inadvertently make another.

But he needed to try; they both deserved that much. He had overheard her conversation with Kyle earlier that evening, making it even more evident to him that they needed to keep communicating. He pushed the door open and locked it behind him, despite thinking that particular precaution might just be wishful thinking on his part. He could hear the water running in the background, and wondered whether it would be tempting fate if he entered.

Not wanting Scully to think that he was purposely avoiding her, he slipped into the bathroom, surprised to see her lounging in the clawed foot tub, her hair in a messy bun, with water up to her chin. It was practically steaming out of the bath, the medicine cabinet mirror completely fogged up. He tentatively made his way to the edge of the tub, sitting carefully.

"Lavender?" he asked, the scent becoming stronger now that he was close to the water. He tried to remember the last time he had seen her take a bath like this, and was coming up empty.

"Hmmm," she nodded, opening her eyes, carefully meeting his steady gaze. "I haven't done this in awhile. Don't judge me, but I'm actually using the kids' baby soothing bath. It did wonders for Will, and I turned to it in desperation. Are you doing okay?"

"Rough day all around," he conceded, reaching for her right hand. He took it into his, continuously rubbing circles into it. "I want to let you know, Scully, that I'm really sorry for what I said."

"I'm not disputing that I was hurt by what you said. I also know that you were frustrated," acknowledged Scully. "You know, numerous studies have shown that the sound of crying children is one of the most stressful sounds a person can hear."

"That's not the point," Mulder insisted. "I threw a difficult decision in your face. The words just popped into my head and I said them. A trait that my progeny have inherited."

She sat up, moving closer towards her partner. "And I forgave you, Mulder. I wasn't just putting on a show for the kids," she countered. "We've been working a lot on the talking-out-loud front, but we also need to be better about letting things go. We tend to dwell on things that hold us back, and that's not going to work anymore, especially with kids."

He nodded, releasing her hand as he carefully stood up.

She only let him take a couple of steps before calling out after him, "So when are you coming in?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When she saw the name of the pre-school flash on the caller ID, she was convinced that they had lost their slot for the first week of January. But the head administrator was calling with different news: a seat would be vacated the next week, as one of their families was unexpectedly moving out of the area. Would they want Nathan to attend three mornings a week before transitioning full-time after the holidays?

She accepted immediately, afraid that if she asked for a day to think it over, the seat would have been taken by another overanxious parent. She didn't think that Mulder would have a problem with it, and even if he did have concerns, they would be able to come up with a number of reasons to withdraw while still holding onto their January spot.

But before Scully could share the news, the phone rang again. "Back room at the Hillside Tavern in Alexandria. Two o'clock," Preston chirped. "It's all arranged."

She didn't know why she was surprised about the location of her meetup with Thomas Maxwell; after all, according to the state of Virginia, it was the restaurant where she and Mulder had allegedly married back in March, when in fact it was just the setting of a quiet dinner they had shared with Charlie and Karen. "Thanks for setting this up."

Ignoring her acknowledgement, he continued. "You do know that the defense will rest sometime this week, maybe even tomorrow," he explained. "I haven't gotten a summons for you to testify, so this is a good sign. But we won't be able to breathe easy on this one until the jury delivers a verdict; if they are deadlocked, a mistrial will be called, and we'll be back in the same position again."

"I'm well aware," she mumbled.

"Dana, I need you to know that depending on the verdict, it's sometimes common for estranged family members to make contact, no matter the level of animosity prior to the proceedings," he explained. "I would never give your address or phone number out without your express permission. But there are other ways for them to find you, and I need you to be prepared for that."

She had been asking herself how she would react if her mother were to ring their doorbell for months, and as Preston droned on, she thought about the scenario once again. As much as she dreaded a confrontation, a part of her wanted to hug her mother fiercely at least one more time. Although she didn't think that it would be likely for her mother to initiate contact, she almost wanted it to happen. What she wasn't sure of, however, was whether she would make that first step instead.

When she got off the phone, the toddlers were fairly quiet, both settled with their morning snacks. Nathan was coloring at the kitchen table while Will played with his farm animals in his highchair. Trust the Mulder boys to be good as gold for Hannah; even the youngest fully understood that after-lunch cookies were at stake if he misbehaved. Somehow, all three boys had woken up cheerful and relatively well-behaved, which eased the residual tension from the previous evening. She hoped that the naughties had left their household as quickly as they had arrived.

She tried Mulder's cell phone first, but didn't panic when it went straight to voicemail; he had told her that morning the best way to reach him would probably be through his office line, and to have him paged. When a female voice picked up, she stumbled, wondering whether she had dialed the wrong number. "I'm sorry, I'm trying to reach Agent Mulder."

"This is his line. He's unavailable at the moment. Who may I ask is calling?"

"Dana Scully," she reflexively answered before asking to be put through to his number, becoming exasperated when her request was refuted.

"Please tell him to call my cell." She impatiently rattled off her number, distracted by Will, who was impatient to get out of his highchair. "Out!" he kept repeating, pointing to the dog. "Ban Ban!"

"Stop wiggling, Will," Scully told her son after dropping the phone on the counter. "We don't want you to tip over."

Will's cries stopped as soon as his feet hit the floor; within seconds he was under the table with the dog, giggling. Nathan abandoned his crayons and started to run out of the room, with the puppy and his brother right behind him. Scully sighed as she followed them into the living room, thinking that Nathan spending a few mornings a week out of the house might be a good thing.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Upon entering the Hoover building, Mulder had to think twice as to which direction he needed to walk. It had been over a year since he had been reassigned from the X-Files, and he still felt that familiar tug towards the basement after stepping through security. In the week since his appointment to the new task force, he had moved to an office on the other side of headquarters. When he finally made his way through the maze of elevators and corridors, he saw Kim milling around his desk. "What did I forgot to do?"

Kim smirked back. "I'm here to introduce you to your new admin and to give you a friendly warning that she better last the week, at the very least. If she's nervous and intimidated by _me_, I have no idea how she'll make it through the day."

"I'll be nice," he assured her, raising his hands in mock surrender.

"She's been temping the past couple of weeks with white collar crimes, so she knows all about the phones and, you will be very pleased to know, the budgeting and expense report system. So it is in your best interest to play nice," warned Kim, amused at how Mulder's eye lit up at the sound of expense report. "I told her I would walk her through a few things when she gets in, so I'll be watching you very, very closely."

Mulder rolled his eyes as Kim left, sitting down at his desk, and then swiveling on his chair. He took a sip of coffee as his eyes wandered around his wall. He hadn't replaced his I Want to Believe poster; it seemed like sacrilege for it to hang anywhere above ground level. Instead, he had some drawings colored by Nathan and Will mounted above his telephone. The framed photo of Samantha that he had always kept on his desk, an ever-present reminder about the purpose of his work, was joined by one of the three boys, taken on the hammock in the backyard of the Vineyard house. Otherwise, the decor was fairly anonymous, standard issue for government offices.

A quick scan of his email confirmed that the day would mostly be spent in teleconference with the Seattle team. Addison had flown out the day before, and between him on the ground and Mulder in headquarters, they would walk the team through the motions. As an investigator, he would rather be there in person, but as someone who was supposed to help advise and mentor otherwise experienced detectives who knew nothing about reopening a cold case, he knew he had to maintain some distance.

Sharon Hughes, the new admin, seemed to be competent, but as Kim warned him, she was extremely nervous. He briefed her on the schedule for the day, explaining that he and the other agents on the team would be mostly in the conference room, working on the Seattle case. "Only interrupt me if it's someone from the Director's office or my wife."

She nodded, furiously taking down notes. "And what about Birmingham?"

That impressed him; he had only assigned one agent to that case, and didn't even remember whether he had informed the entire team of their action plan. No wonder Kim didn't want him to scare her off. "Tony can grab me if he needs anything," he nodded approvingly before walking into the conference room, shutting the door behind him.

Sharon breathed a sigh of relief once she saw her new boss walk off. When she had been offered the position on Friday afternoon, she had been elated; however, her enthusiasm had dissipated the previous day, when she received a slew of unsolicited advice about dealing with Spooky Mulder. By the time she had walked into the building that morning, she didn't quite know what to believe. Some people had told her he was arrogant and standoffish, others that he was brilliant but plain crazy, and a couple of longtime staffers warned her about his propensity to sleep his way through the secretarial pool. So when she entered the task force's office suite, she wasn't sure whether she would be hit on, yelled at, or ignored altogether, and was desperately hoping for the third option.

Instead, he seemed...well, _normal_, which made her even all the more nervous. He had politely introduced himself, directed her to a large pile of paperwork that needed to be sorted then acted upon, and then left for his meeting. Kim returned to her office after promising to check in on her at lunch, and she found herself left to her own devices.

It took half an hour for her to sort through the overdue items, and she entered Mulder's office with the forms that needed his signature. As she debated whether to leave the folder on his messy desktop or on his chair (something which her former supervisor hated), she noticed the colored pieces of construction paper taped to the wall. She smiled at the brightly colored scribblings, which reminded her of her own nephews and nieces. While searching for a post-it note, she got a glimpse of the photos on her desk, which gave her pause; of all the rumors she had heard of the spook, a family man with small children was not one of them.

While most of the agents on the team were locked away in the conference room, there were a couple who were milling around the bullpen, eager to get the lowdown on the fresh blood. The same thing had happened in her previous assignment, and she didn't mind too much; it made the busy work less tedious.

When the phone rang for the third time, she expected to transfer the call just the like the others. However, when she picked up the extension, she noticed it was being forwarded from her boss' line. She looked at her notes, remembering his instructions: only find him if the caller were the Director or his wife. She nervously became tongue-tied when she told the woman on the other end of the line that she would have to take a message. While polite, the caller didn't seem to be too happy when she wasn't connected directly to Mulder.

"People don't like being told no," said Agent Symmons sympathetically, noting her flushed face. "There are a lot of difficult personalities in this building. Who was it?"

"Dana Scully," responded Sharon, looking up from the message she was furiously scrawling in her notebook.

"Seriously?" Agent Nelson set his coffee down on his desk. "Wow."

Sharon noticed that Symmons and Nelson were exchanging bug-eyed looks. "What is it?" She hated being out of the loop, a carryover from her childhood as the youngest in a large family, with older siblings who always talked in code, not wanting her to be part of their conversations.

"She's Spooky's old partner," Nelson explained. "She left the Bureau in June. She's the one with the brother on trial for that murder back in '76. It's been on TV."

"I thought the name sounded familiar," Sharon murmured. "What's she like?"

"Cold as ice," scoffed Symmons. "Rumor has it she skipped town when Spooky finally married his baby mama. She couldn't take it when she found out he was only banging her on the side. She was completely blindsided."

"Not exactly great FBI work there. Didn't know her brother was a murderer and didn't know her own partner was playing house with someone else," Nelson critiqued. "She should have stuck to slicing and dicing in the morgue."

"Well he did marry his first partner," Symmons pointed out. "So she wasn't completely delusional."

Sharon sat back, watching the conversation ping-pong between the two agents. What kind of soap opera had she gotten herself sucked into? "So who is his wife?" she asked.

She was met by two blank stares. "We don't exactly know," explained Nelson carefully, keeping his voice low. "He's very cagey about his personal life."

"Should we tell her about the pool?" Symmons asked, pouring another cup of coffee for himself. "There are a couple of theories floating around."

"Like what?" Sharon asked, unsure of whether she really wanted the answer to that question.

Symmons smiled. "He got back together with his ex-wife, that's a pretty popular one. But another is this much younger woman. Drew Blakesly from violent crime has seen them together with the kids a few times. He said she is pretty hot."

Sharon felt somewhat guilty for enjoying this speculation. "So I take it Dana Scully hasn't called before?"

"He was answering his own line up until today," Symmons shrugged. "But last week someone asked something about her and he had a pretty nasty look in his eye."

"The way the bet works," Nelson interrupted. "Is that whoever uncovers the identity gets a 25% cut of the pot."

"And if you play your cards right, you might get even more than that," hinted Symmons.

Sharon sat back in her chair and smiled. Symmons was wrong, she thought. If she played her cards correctly, she would get the chance to not only make some friends and make some money, but also win the trust of her new boss.

XXXXXXX

The restaurant was quiet; the lunch rush had died down, and it was too early for the pre-dinner drinkers to arrive. The hostess barely looked at her before pointing towards a dark booth in the far end of the room. She didn't meet the eyes of any of the handful of patrons she passed before getting her first good glimpse of Thomas Maxwell, tucked next to the wall in his corner seat.

"Find it easily? I knew you were familiar with this place," he remarked, sending her a clear reminder of who had the upper hand.

"Why not tell me exactly what you want me to hear? Why the games?" she challenged, her voice confident.

"I don't play games," he rebuked, taking a sip from an amber-colored glass. "Games are for children."

"How does this photo connect to anything? What am I not seeing?" Scully asked, taking the picture out of her jacket pocket and pushing it towards him. "And why now?"

"Your father had a brilliant diplomatic career in front of him," Maxwell explained, ignoring her questions. "But he sacrificed those dreams to hold his family together. He may have made some bad choices in his life, but I don't want his reputation to be completely sullied. I just want to repay the loyalty he has shown to his country in some small way."

"But damage has already been done," Scully pointed out, her voice still strong. "Even if Charlie could take back what he said on the stand, it's already been reported by the press. Why act now? Or do you just have nothing to lose at this point?"

Maxwell sighed. "I was referring to you, Dana. You and Charles. Your father cared about what his family thought; he never worried about the general public. But I must be honest with you and let you know that I do not have all the answers you are looking for."

"So why give me this picture?" Scully refused to back down.

"Do you recognize this woman?"

Scully shook her head, watching Maxwell lift up the photo and look at it wistfully. "She knew your father better than anyone. She is a woman with many secrets. After all, that was her trade."

She took in her words carefully, repeating them in her head, knowing that the words Maxwell chose would have a double meaning."Where can I find her?"

"She died three days ago," Maxwell admitted, almost looking apologetic."But not before talking to your brother."

"Where?" Scully asked, her eyes growing wide, desperate for information about her younger sibling. "Charlie's safe?"

"He'll tell you himself, soon enough," promised Maxwell. "But he can't travel through traditional means, and it would be better for him to not resurface until after the jury returns its verdict."

"So what can I do? How can I find answers? There must be something that I can pursue now, or else you wouldn't have given me these yesterday."

Once again, Maxwell ignored her question. "Your father looks content in that photo, does he not?"

She nodded. "It was taken in January of 1966, in Berlin. The same month the Soviets launched the Luna spacecraft. It's also when the United States' diplomatic corps turned its attention away from Europe and onto Vietnam. The four of you in this photo didn't know it then, but everything was on the cusp of change. This was probably the last time your father was truly happy, Dana. I wanted you to know that his happiest moments were with you."

"Who is the other girl in the photo?"

Maxwell hesitated, making Scully all the more determined to get answers. "Admiral Maxwell," she said. "Why agree to this meeting if you aren't prepared to answer my questions?"

"She's your sister, Dana. That's what I wanted to tell you."

He climbed out of the booth with some difficulty, reaching for the fedora that was perched on the bench next to him, gripping his ever-present cane tightly. "I really don't know much beyond that."

"Wait," Scully stopped Maxwell. "Why tell me now, if my brother will be coming back? Are you saying he won't return?"

"Charles will be Stateside soon enough. You're a committed skeptic, so I thought you would need hear the news from two sources. But don't worry, Dana, your children are safe. All three of them. Just think about what I said. I doubt there will be a reason for you to contact me, so take care."

"But-"

She stopped when she realized that Maxwell had dropped something. She quickly stooped to pick up the matchbook, which had a faded Morley's cigarette label. She flipped it open, and saw a slightly smudged message. _Olga Vasiliev_.

XXXXXXX

Before Sharon could give Mulder his phone messages, he swiftly walked right past her, into his office, and bent his long frame over his desk in an effort to reach his phone. "Elisabeth? It's me. Can you do me a favor and go into my office and see if there is a green folder on my desk? There is? She's not? Can you take a cab over here with it? I'll meet you in front of the building."

Sharon saw Agent Symmons look up from his paperwork, a wry smile on his face. He nodded at her discreetly, before getting back to his work. When Mulder disappeared back in the conference room, Agent Nelson ran over to her desk. "I leave now, grab Blakesly, and you two leave a few minutes after he does," he instructed.

"Didn't think you would be getting into some undercover espionage on your first day?" Symmons asked as they watched Mulder stride down the hall towards the elevator bank a half-hour later.

She tried to determine whether or not the agent was flirting with her. "It's a new experience," she evenly responded, not making the next move until she double-checked Symmons' ring finger. "But I'm adventurous. _Very _adventurous."

She registered the look of shock on Symmons' face, satisfied that she made the right move. They exited the elevator and saw Mulder impatiently standing by a hot dog vendor, his cell phone pressed to his ear. Symmons touched her shoulder, indicating that he spotted Nelson and the infamous Blakesly.

They only had to wait a couple of moments before they saw a cab pull up to a curb, and an attractive, young brunette hopped out, smiling and giving a wave to Mulder. At that point, Symmons stood in line at the food cart, hoping to get close enough to overhear their conversation.

"Here you go," Elisabeth announced, her voice bubbly and energetic. "I have your file, plus Nathan begged me to give this to you. He worked very hard on it."

Mulder broke out into a grin when he saw the drawing. "What can I say. We have a talented kid," he murmured. "Tell him I love it."

"I sure will," Elisabeth responded.

Mulder walked towards the curb to hail Elisabeth a cab back to Georgetown. "You really don't know how much I appreciate this,' he told her. "I don't know what I would have done...Are the kids behaving?"

"They always do. At least when they're being watched," she joked. "Nathan's still so excited about his birthday party. He won't stop talking about it. And Will can't stop saying birthday."

"It was a fun party," he agreed, trying not to think about the drama that surrounded Sunday afternoon.

"Nathan loved it," Elisabeth repeated. "We all had a great time. Don't worry about it, okay?"

Mulder nodded appreciatively. "It's not easy, this whole blended family, being a stepparent to an eleven-year-old."

Before she could answer, a cab appeared. As Mulder shut the door after Elisabeth climbed in, he thanked her again before checking his watch. Nearly three and a half more hours at the office, and probably some more work after he got home. Smiling at the drawing in his hand, he thought about how Nathan had unknowingly made it all a bit more bearable.

None of the office spies made a move until they watched Mulder enter the building, and did their best to casually greet one another, as though they hadn't noticed one another's presence. "Double confirmation," Symmons excitedly reported. "He said 'we have a talented kid' and made a comment about how she's a stepparent to the oldest. Plus that shit-eating grin he had plastered on his face."

"You were right about the ring, Blakesly. It looks expensive," commented Nelson.

"You know what else is expensive, Nelson? Paying up on that bet," Symmons countered, winking at Sharon.

It had certainly been an interesting first day on the job, she thought.

XXXXXXX

It was only when Byers let her into the warehouse that Scully came to the realization that she hadn't been there since the previous winter. At one point in time in the not so distant past, she and Mulder had been regular guests at their lair; how had it become so unfamiliar? "It's been a long time," she remarked after Byers offered her some coffee.

"It has," he awkwardly agreed.

It was obvious that Byers was unsure of what to exactly say; after all, besides the weather, almost every other topic of conversation was apt to be fraught with controversy. Scully knew she had to make the first move. "Thanks for stopping by on Sunday," she said, clutching the coffee mug tightly. "Nathan really loves the Batmobile. Which means Will likes it too, so you can imagine its popularity in our household."

"I got one for Kyle when he was about that age. The first Batman movie had just opened," Byers explained. "I'm glad the other boys like it just as much."

"That was very thoughtful," Scully remarked, touched by Byers' gesture; she truly appreciated the sentiment behind his gift. "They'll get very excited when I let them know. Thank you-it means a lot."

"Are you hear about the safe? Langley and I were going to stop by tomorrow. Mulder didn't really explain much about what exactly happened," he stammered, nervous about the silence that trailed Scully's words.

She shook her head. "Tomorrow's fine," she assured him. "Kyle and his friend broke into it on Sunday afternoon. I really don't have the energy to get into it now, and I really don't know how Langley will take the news that he was outsmarted by an eleven-year-old girl-"

"What?"

The lock of shock on Byers' face would have been amusing if she wasn't so tired and keyed up. "Her parents are in the NSA," she shrugged. "But that's not why I'm here."

"Is there something wrong?" Byers asked, setting down his mug. He knew that something was unsettling his friend, especially in that she failed to meet his gaze.

"I-I don't know," she honestly said. "Charlie is looking into something. I don't know where he is, but I suspect Europe. There's no way he'll resurface until the verdict is announced. But I need to see if you can help me get some answers to something sooner."

Byers was a bit taken aback by Scully's request. He knew that she only asked for assistance when circumstances were dire. "What do you need?"

She handed him a copy of the photo. "This was taken in Berlin, allegedly in January 1966. I need a location, if possible. I also need information about the woman in the photo. I believe her name is Olga Vasiliev. And the child too."

"Why?" Byers asked.

Scully shook her head fiercely. "I can't. I'm sorry, but I can't say it, not now."

He looked at her nervously; he couldn't remember the last time she looked so shaken. "Do you need extra security measures?"

"I was promised that the kids would be safe," she explained, playing with her hands. "In fact, I better get back to them. Whatever you can find, I would be grateful."

She drove home in a daze, and was hit by a force of exhaustion as soon as she stepped inside. Kyle was at the kitchen table, plowing through his homework, and Nathan and Will could be heard playing in the other room. "Dana, you look terrible. You should go lie down," Hannah exclaimed, walking towards her, immediately feeling her forehead with the back of her hand.

Scully grabbed a Gatorade from the fridge. "Electrolytes," she mumbled. "I'll be good in a few minutes."

"Upstairs," Hannah ordered. "Elisabeth just returned, dinner's almost done, the kids are occupied. Sleep, now."

XXXXXXX

When Hannah told him that Scully was sleeping, Mulder's instinct was to wake her and find out what had happened; she must have read his mind, because the next words out of her mouth were in fact, "Don't you even _think_ about it Fox", which prompted a snort from his oldest son.

Mulder followed Hannah into the living room, not wanting Kyle to overhear the next part of their conversation. "Is she sick?" he asked anxiously.

"Fox, she is exhausted," Hannah reminded him. "She's spent the last week running around for the party, and has gone non-stop since. Bring up some toast, but don't wake her up. Let her sleep."

For the second night in a row, Mulder managed the bedtime routine, which, to his relief, resulted in less tears than the previous evening. Nathan fell asleep relatively quickly, but Will was much fussier. "What are you so worked up about, buddy?" Mulder asked him. "Is this because your mommy wasn't able to tuck you in?"

Usually some time in the rocking chair knocked him right out, but he was stubbornly holding out on his father. Mulder was debating whether he should bring Will into their bedroom, when he felt another presence in the nursery. "You're up," he smiled, relieved that Scully didn't at least _look_ sick-only tired, as Hannah had indicated.

"I'll sit with him for a bit," she offered. "Then we need to talk."

According to the clock, she had slept for four hours, but she doubted that she got any real rest. Her dreams were plagued by scenes from her childhood, memories that she couldn't fully trust. She wondered if she would ever truly remember anything that had happened to her as a girl, having now been made susceptible to the power of suggestion.

As she cradled Will in his arms, a feeling of melancholy began to settle over her. She did her best to push those aside, but she was tired; after all, she had worked so hard over the weekend to not dwell on the fact that she had missed his and Nathan's infancies. Will grew heavy in her arms, and after a quarter hour of silent rocking, he was fast asleep, Doggy clutched to his chest. She watched over him after settling him down his crib, smiling when he managed to kick off his blanket within seconds of it being smoothed over his back. Although Mulder always claimed that Will resembled her while he slept, Scully felt that he looked more like his father.

After checking in on Nathan, she returned to the bedroom. She found the copy of the photo that she had kept, turning on the tableside lamp next to the loveseat. She was so engrossed in looking at the four figures in the picture, that she didn't hear Mulder enter the room. "I had to take the dog out," he apologized. "What did Maxwell have to say."

Scully looked up to him, trying to will her voice not to shake. "She's my sister," she said out loud for the first time, the words sticking in her throat. "Mulder, I have a sister."

He kneeled down in front of her, sinking his weight on his heels. "Do you want to try and find her?" he asked.

"Yes."

XXXXXXX


	42. Chapter Forty One

**Hi everyone, thanks for all of the reviews! I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

Mulder immediately saw a spark in his partner's eyes that he hadn't seen in quite a long time.

Defiance.

"What?" he asked, confused. "Is-"

"So you think this is a bad idea?"

"Wait, I didn't say that," he countered, shaking his head. He could sense a lilt of defensiveness in her voice, and he knew that he needed to tread carefully. "I'm just trying to process this. Can you start from the beginning?"

"There isn't much to tell," she shrugged, trying to keep her emotions in check. "Maxwell said that she is my sister. That this woman was full of secrets, that secrets were her trade. And then he said something about the space race and Vietnam."

"Okay, okay," he soothed, trying his best to catch up. "Did he give you a name?"

She revealed the matchbook that had been curled up in her hand. A shudder ran through Mulder as he carefully flipped it open. "She died three days ago," she explained. "He said Charlie met with her."

"You know I could make a phone call," responded Mulder, his voice serious and thick. "But Scully, the only way I can protect you is if we hold off until the verdict. I don't want to risk compromising your integrity, especially since you could still be called to the stand."

"So you think this is a setup?"

"I don't know," he honestly answered. "We have to consider all possibilities. The trial could be over in the next few days. What do we lose by waiting a week?"

She was at a loss for words, all too aware of the role reversal. A part of her wanted to shake him, and ask why it was okay for him to make snap decisions based on the adrenaline rush that came with earth-shattering information, but not for her to do the same. Still, she knew he was right. She just wanted some sort of acknowledgement from him.

"You would say the same thing to me if things were different," he said as though he could read her mind.

She nodded, trying to ignore the silent tears that began to run down her cheeks. "Maybe, a few months ago even, I wouldn't have wanted to know. But I think of your quest, and I think of the sleepless nights I've spent wishing we had found...I always thought my father was a content man. But looking at his face in this photo, and listening to what Maxwell had to say about this woman...I owe it to him, Mulder, to at least reach out to her. I know it doesn't make much sense, but I just need to do this."

"What if this woman, your alleged...sister...does not want to be found?"

"Then at least I know I've tried. I need to do something, Mulder. You've done things, Charlie has done things. I haven't done anything."

He knew that there was no use in arguing with her, but he needed to at least try. "You may not have traveled or met with sources, but you were busier than all of us."

She ignored him, just as he expected she would. "Do you think I'll be called to testify?"

"Not unless there is a mistrial," he responded. As much as they both wanted to assume that the trial would end and the jury would return a verdict, they didn't want to bank on that assumption. "But in that case, there are probably other considerations at play. But worrying about it isn't going to change the outcome."

XXXXXX

"I completely forgot to tell you," Scully yawned, turning over to face him as they lay in bed later that night. "The reason why I called your office. The nursery school has a spot for Nathan. They asked us if we wanted to have him start three mornings a week on Monday, and then full-time after the holidays. One of their families is moving."

"That's what we want, right?"

"I told them yes because I didn't want to lose the spot. But if you think it's a bad idea-"

"No, let's do it," agreed Mulder. "And if it doesn't work out, we'll have some time to figure something else out...Wait, you called me today?"

"Yeah, I did. I left a message with someone. Did you get it?"

"No," Mulder complained, dreading the thought of an incompetent assistant. "They assigned me a new admin. I asked her to put you through whenever you called, but it was her first day."

All of a sudden, they felt the bed sink a bit, causing Mulder to grimace. "Hi-hi," Nathan slyly announced as he crawled in between his parents.

"Aren't you supposed to be in bed, monkey?" Scully asked.

"No," he told her solemnly. "I'm big."

"Three-year-olds still have bedtimes," gently warned Mulder.

"No," he protested sleepily, holding Woofy tighter.

"Let him stay," Scully mouthed to Mulder as Nathan snuggled into them both, before saying out loud, "Just for a few minutes."

Mulder nodded, knowing that she had missed spending time with the boys that day; he at least got to see them after dinner. "Do you want me to tell you a story?" he asked Nathan, kissing the top of his head, wishing away the aggravation that had swelled through him seconds earlier. He knew that there would be a time in the not too-distant future when he would miss the boys crawling into their bed.

Nathan nodded, playing with Woofy's ears. "Uh-huh," he agreed.

"What about the story of little boy Nathan and puppy Woofy who have an adventure and find buried treasure in the forest?" Mulder asked, lightly tickling the three-year-old.

Fighting sleep for as long as he could, Nathan finally drifted off after ten minutes; unfortunately for Mulder, so did his partner. He settled back on his pillow, and felt Nathan's head fall against his chest, content to spend some time like this before he had to bring his son back to his own bed down the hall.

He thought of the photo sitting across the room, recalling the faces that so happily posed for the camera. He never met his father-in-law, and by now knew he was a complicated individual. He of all people understood that men had secret lives; in trying to gain insight into his own father, Mulder had finally settled on power as his old man's primary motivation. But he wondered what had influenced the Captain in his decision-making. The words that Admiral Maxwell had shared with him about his and Scully's fathers during their midnight meeting weeks ago rang in his ear: _One was blinded by the love of his son, the other by love of his wife_.

Had Captain Scully fallen in love with a woman who was not his wife, but found himself unable to divorce? Or was the photo-along with Maxwell's message-a misdirection? He was naturally curious about the possible narratives that could explain how everything ended up as they did; still, he was all too aware of the impact the truth could have on his partner, and thus, their own family.

For her sake, he wished that the answer, no matter what it might be, would speak to the Captain's love for her. Scully had already been confused and disappointed by what she had learned over the past four months, and he would hate to see her even more disillusioned. But he knew from his own experience that the emotions involved with learning more about one's past were complicated. As much as he wanted to shield her from the pain, he knew that wouldn't be possible.

He felt the bed shift slightly, as Scully moved in closer to him and Nathan. In her sleep, she had thrown an arm across their son, her fingertips resting on Mulder's side. He watched them both continue to slumber, knowing in that moment, he was an incredibly lucky man.

XXXXXX

Forcing himself out of bed in time for a morning run, Mulder checked in on Nathan, who hadn't wandered back into their bedroom after his initial nocturnal wandering, and then got Will ready for their excursion. Instead of running his full ten miles, Mulder cut the trip in half, spending the extra time with Will at a coffee shop he had discovered a few weeks earlier. The baby's face lit up when he saw them approach the familiar window, and he immediately started to babble. "You want a donut, huh, buddy?" Mulder asked his youngest son.

The staff immediately recognized them, and as Mulder exchanged pleasantries with the clerk, Will's favorite barista got their food order ready, walking around the counter to comment on the puppy ears adorning the top of his hoodie. He giggled when she tugged on them, and started to quickly speak. "Can you say thank you, buddy?" Mulder prompted him as she handed Will a paper bag with their usual order.

He wheeled the stroller to a table on the far corner of the shop. While most of the other patrons were getting their coffee to go, there were a handful of other customers in the cafe, most of them sitting behind thick stacks of newspaper. Mulder lifted Will out of his carriage, settling him on his lap as he impatiently whined for his breakfast. Mulder did his best to wrestle the powdered homemade donuts out of the sack, which Will still insisted on holding, and the one-year-old quieted down only when the treat was in his hand.

These early mornings were Mulder's favorite times with Will. The store was located on his running route, far enough away from the house and their usual neighborhood haunts that he hadn't brought anyone else there, and so it had become their special place. Taking a sip of his coffee, careful to keep it out of the toddler's reach, Mulder came to the realization that he had never actually told anyone about this tradition that he shared with his youngest son. It had never been his intention for this to have become a secret, but somehow that had become the case.

He settled back in his chair, Will content in playing with the powdered sugar that had fallen all over his hands and on the table. What if one of the baristas recognized Will when he was out with Scully? How would she react to finding out that they had become regular customers without her knowledge? Would she be hurt?

"Zoosh," Will requested, bouncing up and down, bringing his father back to reality.

He retrieved the tumbler in the diaper bag, proud that he managed to find it with minimal fumbling. "Let's clean you up a bit, Willster," Mulder said after getting a good look of Will's messy face.

The boy's smile immediately crumbled at the sight of a napkin. "I know, I know, I'm spoiling all of your fun," comforted Mulder in a sing-song voice as he tried to wipe away the powder from his face. "You like to be as messy as possible, just like me, huh?"

Knowing that Will's patience wouldn't last much longer now that his breakfast was finished, Mulder started to pack up and head home. Since no one was downstairs, Mulder deposited Will back in his crib so he could take a shower. Hearing the running water once he entered the master bedroom, Mulder smiled at the thought of joining Scully. "How was your run?" she asked.

"Good," he said, grabbing a bar of soap. "Probably not long enough. But I have something to tell you."

"What's wrong?" she immediately asked, trying not to panic. Had it really come to that? Mulder wondered. That every announcement was assumed to be a piece of bad news?

"Nothing bad. It's just...when I take Will out we sometimes stop at this cafe for donuts. I realized today that I never told you, and I need you to know that I wasn't trying to make it a secret."

"Mulder, slow down," Scully interrupted. "What brought this on?"

"It hit me this morning, when we were sitting there. I never said anything. And I was just thinking about secrets."

"One of my favorite things about you as a father, Mulder, is the one-on-one time you spend with the boys. When you're away, and I get Will up, his face falls when he realizes that you aren't here. And if it makes you feel any better, I know that you and Will get breakfast together."

"How?"

"Mulder, the amount of crumbs and powdered sugar that I find in the stroller, on his clothes and in his hair is staggering," she good naturedly explained.

"It's just…"

Her smile disappeared. "Stop projecting, Mulder, please. I know what you're thinking, and you can leave it alone. Let's not go down that road-it would just do us both more harm than good."

Before he could respond, she silenced him with a kiss. Just as he was lifting her against the tiled wall, the simultaneous sobs emanating from the baby monitor and the ring of Mulder's cell phone from the vanity disrupted their moment. "Later," she promised as they parted.

XXXXXX

She did anything and everything she could to distract herself from thinking about her father's past. She thrived when compartmentalizing the different aspects of her life, and after spending the previous day falling down the rabbit hole of parental conspiracy, she needed to reground herself by spending quality time with the kids.

She was more successful with pushing aside thoughts about the trial than she was in not thinking about the what ifs from her father's past. There were certain moments during which she felt removed from herself, unsure as to whether she was in fact watching the boys clamber around the playground equipment, or if she was instead recalling a distant memory. At least she maintained the wherewithal to watch Nathan like a hawk, not wanting him to aggravate his injury. "Monkey, bullfrog, have some juice," she called out, exhausted watching Nathan and Will chase each other around the perimeter of the play area. Although she wanted them to expend as much energy as possible, she didn't want anyone to become dehydrated.

The appearance of juice and some animal crackers convinced the boys to listen to their mother. She noticed a thin layer of sweat accumulating on Nathan's brow; even though he didn't seem warm, she hoped he wasn't on the cusp of a fever. "Are you feeling okay, monkey?" she asked him.

"I wanna swing," he whined.

"Swing!" Will chanted as best he could with half of his left hand in mouth, a move that left most of his face covered with the remnants of his snack. Scully wasn't sure how he managed to always get so dirty, so quickly. He immediately started running when he saw the wet wipes emerge from the diaper bag, his impish giggles filling the park. Nathan took off after him, and Scully chased the boys around the playground until they fell into a heap.

XXXXXX

"I dirty," Nathan proudly announced to Hannah when they got home, waving his smudged hands in the air. "And I swinged."

"Sounds exhausting," clucked Hannah as Scully re-routed Nathan to the laundry room. There was no way she was going to let the boys roam free in their state.

"No bath!" Nathan cried when he saw his mother pick up some towels.

"Yes bath," corrected Scully. Just as she had predicted to Mulder that morning, a small pile of powdered sugar fell to the floor as she shook Will free of his t-shirt. Will caught her line of sight, and made a dash to try and pick some up. "Don't eat that, bullfrog."

Somehow she wrangled them upstairs and in the bath, promising them bubbles and tub crayons, which quelled their complaints even when she was washing their hair. "Bubb, bubb, bubb!" Will kept chanting, splashing his rubber ducky as hard as he could, much to Nathan's annoyance.

But as soon as the boys went down for their naps, she was left alone with her thoughts, which gravitated towards everything she had learned the previous day. She did what she swore she wouldn't do and picked up the photo, zoning in on the blonde woman. She sighed, frustrated, knowing that any memory she could conjure would be untrustworthy. Unable to leave her curiosity alone, she unlocked the office door and pulled a few photo albums off the shelf.

Sipping her tea, she opened the first dusty book, scanning through faded photographs, looking for some sort of clue to help her make sense of the chaos swirling in her mind. She reminded herself that she was reviewing the album as an investigator, and not as a daughter or sister.

She inherited one of the albums after her father's death, and remembered receiving another as a medical school graduation gift from her parents; the origins of the third, however, were murkier. It was possible that she had merely intended to borrow it from her mother, and it just never found its way back to Baltimore. At one point prior to Charlie's wedding, she had been tasked with finding childhood photos for display at their reception, or maybe it had been for Karen's shower-in any case, she remembered furiously working on the project while she was at the Academy, unsure whether she would be able to pull off her assigned task.

She started chronologically, pulling onto her lap the album that contained shots of Ahab prior to his marriage. She quickly scanned his childhood pictures, slowing down when she reached the period of time when he enlisted in the Navy. She carefully opened the protective film that covered the photographs, relieved to see that most of them contained captions and dates on the back. Reaching over to the desk, she found a more-or-less empty legal pad, and began to jot down the information she found. Nothing piqued her interest until she reached a photo of her parents with a group of other people in Berlin; everyone was leaning in towards the camera while eating at long table. She carefully slid the photo out of the album, setting it aside, wondering whether she had found her first clue.

XXXXXX

When Mulder saw the pile of pictures, photo albums, and notes piled on the leather couch in his office that night, he knew he was treading on dangerous ground. He pushed away the snippets from his conversation with Charlie at Greenbrier that began to flow through his head, and focused on his own work.

"Would it distract you if I finished up in here?" Scully asked. "I don't know if I have the energy to get through much more of this tonight."

Mulder snapped his head away from the computer monitor, thinking it had been far too long since his partner had last propositioned him. He leaned back in his chair, about to retort with a saucy reply, when he noticed that the door was wide open, and remembered that there was a sixth grader, not to mention his former nanny, down the hall. Scully winced when she registered the small pout that crossed Mulder's face. "I should have worded that differently," she apologized. "Especially after this morning."

"Give me an hour?" he immediately asked, side eying the computer clock, praying that she wouldn't fall asleep before then.

She approached him, debating whether it would be too cruel to intentionally tease him. "What if I give you-"

Just as Scully's legs brushed with his, the phone rang. Mulder swore under his breath before picking up the handset; the quiet shake of his head that followed indicated that it was a work call.

She let out a sigh and returned to her perch on the leather couch, pulling her notebook and photo album onto her lap. She mechanically recorded her notes on the pictures, too tired to do much else, even after she gave up all hope of being able to think critically. Once she finished her task, she still didn't want to leave. After all, it had been far too long since she and Mulder had worked side-by-side, albeit on different projects. Although nothing could replicate the hours they had spend in the basement, either hunched over one of the work benches, or sitting face-to-face at Mulder's desk, there was something comforting about working in the same room as him, stealing glances when she thought he wasn't paying any attention to her.

As she blankly stared at a page of photos, she felt something brush her forehead before falling into the book. She took the balled up piece of paper, looking up at Mulder, who was still on the phone. He winked and motioned for her to unravel it, which she did, biting back a smile as she read his words.

She debated how she should respond. Spontaneity had never been her strong suit, and she felt herself blush under the pressure, fully cognizant that she was in her partner's direct line of sight. She knew that he took pleasure in the fact that he could make her squirm. Frustrated with her own nervousness, she scribbled a reply, crunching up the paper. Her throw landed on his keyboard, and casually he brushed it aside, simultaneously typing and launching into another long-winded answer to whatever question his colleagues from across the country posed.

She tried to reciprocate by eyeing him with the same level of scrutiny, but realized that she had utterly failed at the task when he tossed back a response, catching her off guard. She hadn't even seen him pick up a pen, leaving her to wonder whether he had a stack of lewd propositions, all pre-written for the occasion, mixed with his messy pile of papers.

Trying not to audibly gasp, Scully bit down on her lower lip at reading his most recent note, wondering whether there was anything she could do to hasten the end of Mulder's conference call. It took three more messages before she considered whether he was purposely prolonging his call in an attempt to torture her. However, the look of agony on his face upon reading the fourth missive dispelled her of that notion entirely. His eyes locked on hers as he wrapped up his conversation, simultaneously dropping the phone on the desk and barking 'door, now' with a hungry look. She barely reached the entryway before he was on her, as they struggled together to close it shut. It took her a moment to realize that they were encountering with some resistance, and she found herself trapped between two pushing forces.

"Are you ready to take Bandit for a walk? He's going crazy."

Fuck, he thought. "I'll be right there," Mulder said, poking his head around the door, further cornering Scully into the wall. Hannah had offered to take them out after dinner, but he had insisted on doing it himself, thinking about Maxwell's tendency to approach the family when the children were present.

"Sorry," he mumbled, running his hands through his hair as Scully began to button up his jeans. He hadn't even realized that they had practically undressed during their thirty second makeout session.

"It's a doctor thing," she innocently explained, noticing his quizzical expression as she struggled with the zipper.

"I wish I knew sooner," he quipped. "Can you show me some other doctor things when I get back?"

She nodded, watching him take a deep breath before exiting the room, hearing Bandit running down the hallway and barking. Sighing herself, she set about cleaning up the paper strewn around the room, not wanting anyone else to come across what they had written to one another. She dumped the little wads into one of the desk drawers, not wanting to throw them out, at least not quite yet.

She was way too wired to go back to looking through the albums, and Hannah had just gone to bed, so she decided to distract herself by watching TV. Just as she became engrossed in _Law and Order_, she heard a clatter from the direction of the back door, and caught a glimpse of Bandit as he bounded towards the kitchen, barking for his treat.

"Don't worry, I did my homework," teased Scully as she saw Mulder loom in the entryway to the living room, obviously afraid that she was going to choose a fictional NYPD detective over him.

"I can't take another interruption," he confessed over the noise of clattering cabinet doors and dropped items emanating from the kitchen. She would have thought that waiting fifteen minutes would be nothing compared to five years, but she held her tongue, knowing that was most likely exactly why that evening had been so difficult.

If she wasn't so frustrated, she probably would have found some humor in the pained expression on Mulder's face as he maintained his post, not taking any more chances. His vantage point gave him a direct line of sight to the staircase and the kitchen. "It's not that much passed my bedtime," she heard Kyle grumble from the other room, most likely assuming that his father's vigilance had to do with his punishment and recent behavior more than anything else.

Wanting to do her part to speed up the process, Scully began to clean up the living room, turning off the television and shutting off the lights. She heard Mulder check the doors and turn on the alarm system as she made her way to the kitchen, setting the coffee maker to autobrew for the next morning, saying goodnight to her stepson as he and the dog trouped up to the third floor. Thinking that Mulder wouldn't even need to _try_ to convince her into having kitchen sex, she felt him grab her waist. "Upstairs," he whispered. "Before something else happens."

He lifted her off the ground, and she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist as he walked them to the staircase. "But Mulder, watch for the-" He swallowed her protests by initiating a deep kiss, which she enthusiastically returned. She wasn't sure how he was able to keep them moving up the steps but they slowly ascended to the second floor.

Suddenly, she felt them waiver, and then she was falling backwards, with Mulder sprawled on top of her. As the pain radiated, she distantly hear a series of crashes, followed by Will's cries and then Nathan's excited babbles. "I forgot about the baby gate," groaned Mulder as he shifted his weight off her.

"Honestly, Fox," Hannah rolled her eyes after surveying the messy scene, having emerged from her room after hearing the commotion. "Do I have to remind you about Krist-"

"Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it," interrupted Mulder loudly just as Kyle appeared from the third floor, asking what was happening. He slowly pulled himself up to a sitting position, resting on his elbows for a moment, turning to his partner. "Scully?"

"I'm fine," she managed to sputter, trying not to panic. No longer stunned silent by their fall, the pain was now coming fast and furious.

She heard Mulder swear under his breath as he knee walked towards her.

"Let's get you to bed, Nathan," Hannah saw the look of panic cross her former charge's face. She stepped over Scully and took the three-year-old's hand. "Your daddy will come tuck you in soon."

"Night-night monkey," Scully said, hoping that her voice didn't betray any agony or concern. Dropping her voice to a whisper, she asked Mulder to calm down Will first. "There's nothing we can do right now anyway. I just need to lie still for a bit. I'm fine, really."

She tried to give his hand a squeeze, but she wasn't able to tell how much pressure she was exerting. "Can I do anything?"

She saw Kyle looming over her, a hesitant expression on his face; just like his father, he would need to be reassured. "Could you go downstairs and bring up some frozen vegetables? That would be a big help."

For the next few minutes, she tried to ignore the pain by focusing on the sounds she could hear wafting from the boys' rooms-Hannah telling Nathan a story, Mulder speaking softly with Will, whose cries were slowly softening. She heard thumps on the stairs, and Mulder sending Kyle to bed. He entered her line of sight as he crouched next to her, frozen peas in hand. "I'm calling an ambulance," he announced.

"Mulder, you're overreacting," she responded. "I'm a doctor."

"With a terrible patient survival rate."

"I just got the wind knocked out of me," she explained. "Help me up...Mulder, I promise you I do not have a neck or spine injury."

"Now I _should _call an ambulance."

"And if you do, our little dry spell will last much, much longer."

He stared at her open-jawed and gulped. Despite all of the stunts he had pulled-ditches, rendezvous with covert sources, and hell, even hiding the existence of a secret son and ex-wife, Scully had never, not once, thrown his ass out on the couch.

And he wasn't sure whether to be relieved or frightened over her threat.

"At least let me carry you," he stumbled over his words as he gingerly picked her up.

"You might want to open the bedroom door first," she reminded him, trying with all her might not to grimace as her back once again touched the hardwood floor.

Five minutes later, she was settled in bed, still arguing with Mulder about the extent of her injuries. "You have to admit, it was pretty funny," she said, trying to lighten the mood as he found some ibuprofen and water.

"Maybe I'll find some room for laughter after I'm convinced you aren't going to be maimed for life. Can you at least let me check your back?"

She swallowed the pills and carefully rolled onto her stomach, biting her cheeks as she felt Mulder's hands brush along her back as he lifted up her t-shirt. "Bruising and swelling," he murmured. "How do I know if something's broken?"

"We wouldn't be having this conversation," she reassured him. "I'll be sore as hell for the next couple of days, that's it. Let's get some sleep. I promise to wake you up if I need more frozen vegetables."

"Only if you promise me one thing," Mulder tiredly requested. "That you and I get away, just us, no kids, no interruptions. If asking you to do that for a weekend is too much, then just for one night. We don't even have to leave DC."

"Yes, please."

XXXXXX

The next morning, he turned off the alarm, hoping Scully would be able to sleep for a few more hours; neither of them had gotten much rest during the night. After checking-in on Will, he made his way downstairs to call Skinner's office to let them know he would be working from home. However, he did a double-take when he came across Nathan sitting at the kitchen table with Cheerios spilled...well, everywhere-on the tabletop and on the ground, along with a carton of orange juice that was precariously sitting on its side, dripping onto the floor.

"How did you get down here, buddy?" Mulder asked with a hint of amazement in his voice, before he remembered that the baby gate at the top of the stairs no longer existed. Looking at the scene of destruction before him, he suddenly realized why Scully had always been so adamant it be put up overnight and during nap time.

Mulder thought he had finally caught Nathan in his first speechless moment. But the three-year-old just looked at him disinterestedly for another few seconds, intently chewing on his cereal. "I don't know," he said between bites. "Park?"

Nursery school couldn't come fast enough.

XXXXXX

Hannah wasn't entirely sympathetic to Mulder's plight when she walked in on him trying to clean the kitchen, feed two toddlers, a pre-teen who was busily doing homework he had sworn he had already completed, and fending off a hyper puppy. "Help me, please?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I have every confidence in your ability to manage this situation," she snorted good naturedly before patting him on the shoulder. "But I do have one piece of advice, Fox. You might want to be on your way to school now."

"Shit," Mulder muttered, looking at the clock. "Let's go, Kyle."

"They usually make you wear clothes at work, right?" Kyle asked as he shoved his papers into his bookbag.

Mulder looked down at his boxers and grey t-shirt, which had a couple of rips. "I'm not going to the office today," he explained, grabbing his keys; in any case, they were cutting it close with time as it was. "Let's go."

Of course, after weeks of managing to only see Colin's parents in passing, Vanessa Belkins decided to make some small talk, and judging by the look she gave Mulder, had more than noticed his attire. Mulder managed to fend her off with the threat of not getting to school on time, wondering how soon before the other parents would hear about his carpool wardrobe.

Mulder called Skinner on his way home, surprised when the AD suggested that he work from home for the rest of the week. "I know closing statements are today," Skinner explained. "And the rumor mill is flowing along at warp speed, at least according to Kimberly. That's not a good combination for you, Mulder, especially with Addison in Seattle."

"Thank you, sir," said Mulder. "In that case I'll stop by this morning for some files."

Looking down at his clothing, Mulder swore. If he had been properly dressed, he could have saved himself another trip. Fighting traffic all the way back to Georgetown, he slumped into the house, dropping his keys on the kitchen counter. "I need to stop at the office," he shared after finding Hannah with the boys in the living room. "It should only be for a few moments."

"Then you are taking Nathan with you. He has way too much energy to be cooped up in here, especially if someone needs to stay close and check-in on Dana," Hannah pointed out, craning her neck towards Nathan, who was jumping up and down while chanting something his father couldn't quite make out.

"How is the patient?"

"A bit bruised and battered. She just needs to take it easy today, but I think she'll be much better tomorrow."

Mulder held out his arms for Nathan to come running, and he picked up the little boy, who he could now determine was singing "daddy has no pants."

"Let's get some clothes and then I'm taking you on an adventure."

"Trains?"

"Not today buddy. Maybe next time. But we need to get you out of your pajamas and get your backpack ready," Mulder said as they ascended the stairs, making a mental note to purchase a baby gate while they were out.

After helping Nathan get dressed, they made their way to the master bedroom, Mulder not trusting the three-year-old to stay in his room unsupervised. They came upon Scully, who looked rather uncomfortable, propped up on the bed with a mountain of pillows. As soon as she saw them, she shut off the TV, and gave her boys a skeptical look. Mulder caught the undertone of her expression: don't ask me how I'm feeling.

"We're going on an adventure," Nathan excitedly told his mother, jumping around the room before climbing up on the bed.

"You are?" Scully asked. Mulder could tell that she was having some difficulty in masking her pain, but to Nathan, she sounded bright and cheery.

"I need to stop by the office," Mulder explained.

"In a t-shirt and shorts? It's November," Scully tsked, looking at what their son was wearing. "Monkey, go get your dinosaur shirt and your jeans, and come back here, okay?"

"They aren't shorts, Scully," Mulder fruitlessly argued. "They're pants that just look...well, short."

After giving his partner a helpless look, he decided to change the subject. "Should I be jealous?" he asked, picking up the stuffed giraffe that sat next to her on the bed.

"Will thought I should have company," Scully explained. "Hannah told me to take a nap, and he thought a stuffed animal was in order."

Nathan scampered back in the room with his clothes. "Put more things in his backpack," Scully instructed Mulder as he struggled to get a wiggling Nathan into his outfit. "Make sure the trains are there. And the coloring books. And the crayons."

"We shouldn't be that long," shrugged Mulder, struggling with Nathan's sneakers.

"Mulder, he inherited your attention span."

As if he needed the reminder, Mulder thought. "I'll bring the trains. And a snack."

"Now you're catching on, partner," Scully weakly smiled. "You be good, monkey."

"Mommy's going to take a nice long nap while we're gone, right?" Mulder asked as he picked up Nathan, grinning at the glare Scully shot him. "Can I get you anything?"

"Could you bring up everything I left on the couch last night?"

"Sure," Mulder nodded. "Skinner told me to work from home the rest of the week, given the trial closing out. Rumor mill and all."

She unexpectedly felt better upon hearing that news. "That's decent of him," she agreed, suddenly exhausted, relieved with the thought of Mulder being close by if (or hopefully, _when_) the jury returned a verdict.

"You're sleepy," he smiled, bending down to give her a kiss.

"No I'm not," she stubbornly protested.

"Nap!" Nathan yelled, pointing his finger at her.

"It's a good thing you're cute, monkey," Scully told her son as Mulder tried not to laugh, rueing the fact that both boys had obviously understood Hannah's orders that she sleep. Still, she was thankful that the older woman cared so much.

XXXXXX

Mulder knew that Skinner's quasi-order to work from home that week was to quell the water cooler gossip surrounding his personal life, and that he wasn't doing himself, or his boss, any favors by bringing Nathan into the office. So when the elevator doors on his floor opened to an impatiently waiting Kimberly, he had two thoughts: one, that Nathan better win her over with his charming self, and two, how the hell had she learned of their presence in the building so quickly. "Nathan, can you say hi to Kimberly?" Mulder asked Nathan, who was clutching his hand.

"Hi," Nathan dutifully smiled. "Mommy fell down and Daddy has no pants."

A triumphant smile that crossed Kimberly's face. "That answers all my questions and poses some new ones. I think I found a new friend here."

"The two events are not connected," Mulder defended himself as they walked down the hall, keeping it to himself that wasn't quite the case, as Kimberly laughed before growing more somber.

"You could have at least called ahead Mulder. Somehow, you manage to make these situations as painful as possible," she said through clenched teeth as they walked briskly down the hall.

Mulder sighed. "Kimberly, in case you haven't caught the drift, it's been a bit hectic today," he hissed, barely cognizant that Nathan was saying hello and waving to every person they met in the hallway.

She stopped short and stared at him. "You got the rumor mill spinning again yesterday, and I'm trying to do some damage control."

"Yesterday?" Mulder asked, completely confused. "I didn't do anything."

"Half the Bureau saw you with a cute, young brunette," began Kimberly, dropping the tone of her voice. "And there isn't yet a consensus as to whether she is your wife or your mistress."

He immediately paled, stuttering. "But the newspapers have published that Scully and I-"

"Which makes this game even more fun for everyone who works here," Kimberly pointed out. "Seriously, Mulder, for such a brilliant man you are incredibly stupid sometimes."

"Daddy," Nathan whined, pulling his father's arm. "Woofy's thirsty."

"We'll get some water in a minute, Nathan," Mulder assured his son, annoyed at himself for not remembering to pack a juice box, despite Hannah's reminders.

Mulder was thankful that his assistant, as well as most of the bullpen, weren't at their desks when they reached their end of the hallway. "Mulder, Seattle's on the phone," Agent Pratt explained, pouring himself some coffee.

"Go," Kimberly told him with a smirk. "Nathan can tell me stories in your office."

Mulder shuddered at the thought, taking solace in that Kimberly's mood would probably exponentially improve if Nathan shared some more embarrassing tidbits.

When he returned twenty minutes later, he saw Nathan and Kimberly playing trains on his desk. "Faster," Nathan impatiently instructed, pushing the train off the desk and onto the floor, where he crawled around to move it around the perimeter of the office.

"Energetic kid," remarked Kimberly. "I can't imagine what he's like when he isn't down an arm. He told me all about how he jump-ded."

Mulder shuddered, thinking of Krycek for a brief second too long. "Let's get going, monkey," he told Nathan.

"I'm playing," the three-year-old explained from underneath his father's desk.

"Can I trust you to get back to the garage without self-imploding?" Kimberly asked, getting up from her chair.

"Thanks for everything," Mulder called out as she left. "Hey Nathan, look up at the ceiling. I have something I want to show you."

XXXXXX

Nathan was asleep on his father's shoulder by the time they reached home. An impromptu pencil-throwing session was followed by a trip to McDonald's and then a quick stop to pick up a new baby gate, leaving both father and son exhausted. He brought Nathan up to his room, tucking Woofy next to him. Mulder then headed down the hall to the master bedroom, peeking in to see that Scully and Will were both asleep.

"Don't you dare wake up Dana," Hannah warned him as she emerged from the guest bedroom. "Or Will. I don't know which one was harder to get to sleep."

"I didn't, I won't," Mulder assured her; at this point, it seemed that everyone was out to get him that day. He retreated to his office, sulking, trying to focus on getting some actual work done.

XXXXXX

Later that afternoon, when Hannah the watchdog was busy making dinner, Mulder snuck upstairs to check-in on Scully. He could tell by her breathing pattern that she was not quite asleep, but quite awake either. He toed off his shoes and climbed into bed, carefully wrapping an arm around her, drawing her close without bumping her sore back and shoulders.

"Hmm?" Scully asked. "What time is it?"

"It's almost five," he explained. "How are you feeling?"

"I've been better," she admitted. "But I'll be fine tomorrow."

Not knowing whether to chalk that statement up to wishful thinking, Mulder decided to just let it rest. He wondered how much of her pain was physical, and how much of her exhaustion stemmed from stress. "The jury is deliberating. This might be over as soon as tomorrow."

"I hope so," Scully murmured, too exhausted to think of the repercussions. "So what happened today?"

"Nathan had a great time at the office," he promised. "And I got a new babygate."

"If you did that so quickly, something must have happened."

"Oh, you know, Nathan just made himself some breakfast this morning."

"I would laugh but it would hurt too much," Scully smiled, slowly starting to wake up. "Sounds messy. Anything else?"

"If you really want to know," Mulder sighed, his voice picking up speed. "I took Nathan to McDonald's for lunch, so he probably is thinking that he should get a toy with every meal, and the latest rumor at work is that I'm either married to or having an affair with Elisabeth. Oh, and Nathan and Will have been throwing crayons at the ceiling all afternoon."

"You can stop now," she yawned, her head spinning. "No comment on any of that."

"Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery," reminded Mulder, hoping that the absurdity of the day's events would at least distract his partner from the trial. "Nathan was quite impressed with the pencils stuck in my office ceiling. So I think I've done pretty good work today."

"You didn't make any of that up?"

"Of course not, Scully. What about any of those situations sounds remotely implausible?"

"Maybe I should jut go back to sleep."

XXXXXX

After putting the kids to bed that night, Mulder placed a call with Andy Dearborn, wanting another opinion on the matter of the jury deliberations. He needed to hear from someone who was present in the courtroom when the closing arguments were delivered. "I don't want to get your hopes up, Mulder," Dearborn stated. "But I think that they're going to convict."

"To be honest, you sound a little conflicted about it, Andy," Mulder responded.

"I-can you meet me for a few minutes?" Dearborn hesitated. "The bar at the Jefferson Hotel? Say, one hour?"

Mulder agreed, his heart sinking. Good news, especially in their line of work, was rarely delivered in person.

When he entered the hotel bar a few minutes after their appointed meeting time, he saw Dearborn nervously sitting at a corner booth, two whiskeys in front of him. "I'd say it's good to see you but that might not be the case," Mulder reluctantly greeted his acquaintance, who pushed one of the tumblers in front of him.

"I don't want you to overreact," spurted Dearborn, his eyes bouncing around the room. "But I saw something this morning."

"What?" Mulder leaned into the center of the table.

"You once asked me to tell you if I noticed an older guy, a chain smoker, hanging around the courtroom. I was taking a phone call in a hallway during the morning recess, and I saw a man fitting that description leave the room that Bill and his lawyers use. I didn't really make the connection until I saw him again, right when court let out this afternoon. He was talking to my boss."

Mulder tried to temper his fury. "Thanks for letting me know," he nodded to Dearborn.

"I don't know what it means," Dearborn said into his drink. "I've heard no talk of a last minute plea bargain, and no one seems to be worried about the verdict. Everyone's concentrating on the sentencing arguments. Death penalty is still on the table."

Mulder didn't know what it all meant, but the prospect of that cigarette smoking son-of-a-bitch involving himself in the case at the eleventh hour did not sit well with him. Although a part of him had assumed all along that the Consortium members were in contact with Bill's camp, it was another thing to receive information that lent credence to the theory.

"We really shouldn't be seen talking until this is all over," Dearborn continued, obviously uncomfortable. "I just wanted you to know, and I didn't think over the phone was the best way to do it."

"I appreciate it," Mulder thanked Dearborn, shaking his hand, just thankful that Dearborn had never asked _him_ too many questions.

XXXXXX

It was a rare occasion when Mulder was thankful to find Scully fast asleep by the time he got to bed, but he was relieved for the reprieve in telling her this latest bit of news. He carefully removed the photos and notes that were spread around the bed, not wanting to think anymore about the stories those pictures told.

She was sleeping on her stomach, elevating herself on pillows; Mulder slipped those to the side so she rested on him instead, thinking that it might be the only way in which he could keep her safe.

XXXXXX

"Mommy, mommy, mommy!" Nathan flew towards his mother the next morning, climbing out of his booster seat and nearly toppling her over with the force of his hug.

"Be careful there, monkey," Scully greeted him, resting her hand on his shoulders. As much as she wanted to give her son a fierce squeeze, she didn't think she could withstand the pain of bending down, and she certainly could not pick him up.

"You shouldn't be-" Mulder sputtered. His first instinct was to send her back to bed, but he knew that was the worst thing he could possibly say.

"The best thing to do for sore muscles is to keep using them," she argued, accepting the good morning kiss Mulder gave her in lieu of a protest. "But I promise not to do any heavy lifting."

Although it hurt like hell when she had climbed out of bed a quarter of an hour earlier, she knew she needed to do it, at the very least to keep her mind off things. "Tell me all about your day with Daddy, Nathan," she said, gingerly sitting down at the table.

Mulder cringed as he poured some coffee for his partner, hearing Nathan go on and on about the toy he had received with his lunch and how he had gotten to throw pencils at the ceiling.

"Good thing you're wearing clothes today," Kyle informed him as they got ready to leave for school. "Mrs. Belkins told everyone in the carpool line yesterday about what you wore yesterday."

Scully snapped to attention. "What _were_ you wearing?" she asked Mulder.

"Whatever I may have worn, or not worn, it was just to make you jealous," he smirked as he found his keys. "Remember that."

XXXXXX

There were indeed crayon marks on the ceiling. Scully noticed them when she repositioned herself on one of the living room couches. Mulder caught her staring at them as soon as he arrived home. "Crayola is washable, Scully," he pointed out.

"So wash them off," she challenged him, busying herself with some of the blocks Will had spilled onto her lap. She thought that they had turned a corner when Nathan had stopped drawing on the walls a few weeks ago; he certainly knew how to outdo himself, just like this father.

She hadn't even realized the phone had even rang when Mulder interrupted her reading a story to the boys, saying that Preston had called, and the jury had returned a verdict. He turned on the TV to the news channel, shushing Will's cries for Big Bird, picking him up from his place on the couch to sit next to Scully. He sat Will on his lap, as Hannah settled on the sofa across from them. Nathan soon grew bored, abandoning the book in order to turn his attention to his trains on the floor.

Ten minutes later, Mulder switched the channel to PBS, hoping that whatever was currently airing would occupy the kids. "Watch," Nathan requested pointing to Elmo, alarmed when he saw Mulder help his partner to her feet.

"Mommy and I will be back soon," Mulder promised. "We just need to talk for a few minutes. I'll take you and Will to the park when we're done, as long as you're good for Hannah, deal?" Nathan seemed satisfied with his father's proposition, and once again became enthralled with _Sesame Street_, while Will barely noticed his parents leaving the room.

"It's over," he whispered into her ear as they entered the office, Mulder shutting the door behind them. He helped her onto the couch, cupping her chin. "It's over. You won't have to testify. He's guilty."

She nodded, tears in her eyes. "I'm so relieved," she sighed, tears brimming her eyes. "I guess this means Charlie can come home. I know you said you could contact your source about finding out more about my father, but maybe we should wait to hear from him. At least for a few days-I don't want to accidentally endanger whatever he's suddenly gotten himself into."

A knot formed in Mulder's stomach. "Of course," he agreed. "But Scully, about that. You know that I've kept silent about what he told me because I needed to protect the integrity of whatever testimony you might have been compelled to give."

"Mulder, I've tried so hard not to make you feel guilty about that," Scully rushed.

"No, Scully, you've completely respected the position I've been in," he argued, interrupting her. "It's just...there are things you need to know and I don't know how you are going to react. And I don't want you blindsided in case you hear about it elsewhere."

"What?" Scully asked, tensing. "You're scaring me, Mulder."

XXXXXX

He was still waiting for her to react to the news that he had shared earlier that day. She had been remarkably stoic after he explained what he had learned from Charlie: that her father had been assigned to infiltrate the USSR government during the height of the Cold War. In response, she had only mumbled something along the lines of "Well that would explain the Russian mistress" followed by the announcement she would accompany him, the kids, and the dog, to the park.

"So you think Charlie is in Russia?" she asked as they sat on a bench, watching Nathan and Will chase each other around the jungle gym. Mulder was holding Bandit's leash, looping it around his wrist, not wanting the dog to get too hyper. It was starting to get cold, and Scully figured that they wouldn't have too many more days in which the weather would be mild enough for a trip to the playground.

"That's where he told me he was headed," Mulder explained, wishing that his information carried more answers than questions.

"Let's just say, Mulder, for argument's sake, that my father was on some sort of spy mission," began Scully. "But what was I doing in a photo with him and that woman and her daughter? I've been trying to wrack my brain, jog my memory. Neither of them are in any of the other photos, and I just don't remember anything."

"Scully, you weren't even Nathan's age when that picture was taken. You were too young to remember," Mulder pointed out, leaning into her. "What is your earliest memory?"

"When Ahab gave me that teddy bear I told you about," Scully responded.

"You were upset that he was going away, right?" prompted Mulder. "And that's why he gave it to you?"

She nodded, calling out to Nathan to be careful not to hit his arm against anything, thinking that his cast couldn't come off soon enough.

"What if that particular trip was significant in some way?" Mulder asked.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Let's side aside the possibility that your reaction was purely a developmental or cognitive response to the situation," he explained. "Meaning that you had just reached the stage of development where you understood what it meant when your father left for a trip."

"Which at the age of three-and-a-half-"

"Hear me out, please," he pleaded. "What if your father leaving _that_ particular instance was significant to you because before that moment in time, you hadn't been separated from him, or at least hadn't remembered being separated from him? That the trauma was not so much him leaving, but you staying or being apart from him?"

She sat back, not caring that the wood from the bench was irritating her shoulders. "Your theory could make some sense," she said, suddenly lost in thought as memories rapidly ripped through her mind. Had she been not even been raised by her mother, at least not prior to that photo being taken? She waved in Nathan and Will. "But it's a leap. And it leaves open a lot of questions."

"So does everything else about this situation, Scully," he reminded her, fumbling with the diaper bag for some juice boxes. "The possibilities are endless. But if you could work backwards from that memory, that could be the framework for us to pursue this."

"So what do I do now? Olga Vasiliev is dead. Do I try to look up everyone from those other photos, and see what the remember from thirty five, forty years ago? Request all declassified documents pertaining to Europe and Russia from the 50s and 60s?" she wondered, not really expecting a reply. "I certainly don't want to speak with my mother about this."

"Would you be willing to undergo hypnosis again, with Dr. Werber?" Mulder asked, hoisting Will onto his lap. "Or at least think about it. You don't have to make any decisions right away. There aren't so many people you can turn to, Scully. The good guys will keep their mouths shut because that information is classified. We can't assume that my source would be able to give us all the information we need. I can talk to Langley and Byers to see if they have any suggestions, but until Charlie returns, we don't have much to go on."

She nodded, adjusting her sunglasses. "Thank you for saying we," she said, squeezing his thigh. "I think we should be getting back home."

Surprisingly, the boys didn't put up a fight when being strapped into the stroller, which Mulder took as a sign that they would take long naps when they got home. "This was nice, doing this," Scully said as she slipped her hand in Mulder's. "Somehow it's different during the week. It's like we're playing hooky."

"My second favorite sport," Mulder quipped, searching for some sort of sign that Scully was truly feeling okay. He knew that she was still physically and emotionally exhausted, and he wished that there was something he could do. He was overly conscious of his tendency to hover, and he wanted to give her the space she needed without feeling as though he was abandoning her.

"I think I'm going to take a nap too," Scully quietly told Mulder after they helped the kids out of their coats and up to their rooms.

After checking his email and making some phone calls, Mulder decided to go upstairs to check on Scully. He couldn't shake the feeling that he should be talking to his partner instead of the two of them brooding in different parts of the same house. He tip-toed past the boys' rooms, not wanting to wake them up so soon. He softly closed the bedroom door behind him and stopped for a second upon hearing her sobs.

He knelt on the floor by her side of the bed, facing her. "I'm here" was all he could think to say. "Let it out, Scully. Just let it out."

After locking foreheads for a moment, they embraced, her sobs muffled into his shoulder. "It's over," he reminded her.

"I'm scared," she finally managed to say.

"Of what?" he asked tenderly, tucking her hair behind her ears.

"That I'll remember...Mulder, I want to go through regression hypnosis. But I'm still scared."

"I don't want to pressure you into a decision, Scully. Think about it overnight, okay?"

Although he didn't want to see his partner in any pain, he was relieved that she had found an outlet for the myriad of feelings she was experiencing. He sat on the bed next to her, pulling her close.

"Are you sad?"

They both looked at Nathan in surprise; he certainly had a penchant for sneaking up on them. Apparently their boisterous little boy _could_ be quiet.

"A little bit, monkey," Scully said, ruffling his hair; she loved how the boys had all inherited their father's sensitivity. "But you know what would make me feel better? A big hug from you and your dad."

XXXXXX

Mulder thought it best to pick up Kyle from school, wanting some time alone with his oldest son to talk through everything that had happened that day. He was only a couple of blocks away from his destination, when, at a red light, the car next to his began to honk its horn. "Dearborn?" Mulder asked, rolling down his window. "What's going on?"

"Pull over on the next block," his acquaintance instructed. "Stay in the car."

Once Dearborn parked his own vehicle, he slid into the passenger's side seat of Mulder's car. "Sorry for ambushing you," Dearborn rushed. "But I wanted to catch you alone. I was driving up to your place when I saw you leave and it took me this long to catch up to you."

Mulder was vaguely worried that he hadn't noticed he had been followed. "Is something wrong?"

"Bill's gone," Dearborn reported. "They were supposed to transfer him to Pennsylvania this afternoon, but that didn't happen. On the books, the transfer occurred, but I know he never actually got on that bus."

"How?"

"I saw him leave with that cigarette smoking guy. They had armed guards with them," Dearborn reported. "I asked my boss, tried to be casual about it, and he hinted it was the witness protection program, but I don't quite buy it."

"Shit," Mulder cursed, banging on his steering wheel.

"If it's witness protection, they would be sending him as far away from here as possible, you know that," Dearborn explained. "I just wanted you to know. I'll find you if I get more information."

Mulder nodded, thanking Dearborn as he exited the car, frustrated that his family couldn't quite catch a break.

XXXXXX

As Mulder expected, there wasn't a surefire way for them to verify Dearborn's latest piece of information, but the Gunmen promised to monitor the situation closely. "We can't dwell on this too much, Mulder. We need to live our lives," Scully reminded him after he got off the phone with Byers.

Since the trial's conclusion, Scully had felt like a huge weight had been taken off her shoulders, and Mulder immediately noticed that shift in her demeanor. She was constantly smiling and almost goofy; of course, the end of their dry spell, so to speak, might also have been the impetus for that change. She had decided to move forward with the regression hypnosis, and they had scheduled an appointment with Dr. Werber for the next week.

On late Saturday afternoon, they sat down with Nathan to explain that he would be starting school the next week. "You liked visiting, right, monkey?" Scully asked, watching Nathan try to process the news.

He nodded. "Woofy too?"

"Yes, Woofy gets to go with you," Mulder assured him.

The parents exchanged nervous glances, unsure of how to handle Nathan's skeptical response; they had both thought Nathan would have been enthusiastic about the news, as he had been constantly asking about school since his visit. "No," Nathan finally said. "Work."

"Work is for grownups and school is for kids," reasoned Mulder, curious as Nathan's thought process. "Did you see any fun toys in my office? Or any other kids?"

"No."

"And they had lots of fun toys at school, and there were lots of kids your age," Scully added.

"Daddy has pencils and you said no," protested Nathan, stomping his foot.

She arched an eyebrow at Mulder, who knew he needed to talk themselves out of this situation fast. "What if you go to school," propositioned Mulder. "And I promise I'll take you back to my office for some pencil throwing, okay?"

Scully grimaced, rubbing her temples, suddenly remembering the marks currently adorning the living room ceiling. All household crayons and markers were currently categorized as contraband, and coloring had become a very closely supervised activity.

"Okay!" Nathan brightened up. "Now?"

She shot Mulder a look that said _have fun with this one_. "Let's see how your first week goes, buddy, okay? But remember, when Mommy or I tell you not to do something, you don't complain, got it?"

Nathan reluctantly nodded and went back to playing with his castle, singing "school, school, school" under his breath.

"Nice save, Mulder," Scully remarked, just as the phone rang. Mulder got up after hearing Kyle yell from the kitchen that he had a call.

A few minutes later, Mulder re-entered the living room, taking his seat on the floor, Bandit curled up next to him. Will immediately gave him so blocks, which were slightly slimey, and he set about building a tower for the one-year-old to knock down. "Scully, I think we should go out for a drink," he suggested.

"You two should go out," Hannah gushed, putting down the newspaper. "You live near all these great restaurants, and you've probably haven't been out to dinner without the kids since you've been here."

"No," Scully protested. "It's too much-they'll be wanting dinner soon."

"I can manage perfectly fine, Dana," Hannah protested.

"We can walk over to that bistro you've wanted to go to," M said. "Come on, Scully, when do you think we'll get an offer like this again?"

Scully chewed on her lip. "Okay, but we'll only stay for one drink," she promised.

"Two?" Mulder pleaded with his sad puppy dog face.

"Maybe two," Scully relented.

Scully tried explaining to the boys that she and their father were going out, before Mulder pulled her away. "Face it," he teased. "They don't care where we are going unless it involves taking the puppy or their toys away from them."

Mulder took Scully's hand as soon as they left the house. "I don't think we do this enough," he said softly.

"We certainly don't," Scully agreed, giving his hand a squeeze. They continued their walk in companionable silence, and upon entering the restaurant, Scully was relieved to see it wasn't too crowded.

"Let's walk down the back, I think they have some seating down there," Mulder instructed, ushering her away from the door with his hand on the small of her back. As they walked down the length of the bar, Scully could see that small tables were arranged in small, half-moon shaped nooks, with seats carved into the wall.

"That looks like Charlie at that last table," Scully said, her heart beginning to thump in her chest. "But-"

She snapped her head around, noticing the sheepish expression on Mulder's face. "Just keep walking," he whispered into her ear.

Scully trembled towards her brother, who was speaking with someone who she could not see. As she approached his table, she looked to her left, and saw a woman sitting next to him.

"Meet our long lost sister," greeted Charlie.

"Fuck," Mulder mumbled, his face growing ashen.

"You know her?" Scully asked, looking between the stranger and Mulder, before stepping back in confusion.

"You could say that," he answered quietly, locking eyes with the other woman before turning to his partner, trying to figure out how he would be able to explain the situation.


	43. Chapter Forty Two

A/N: I'm sorry for the delay in posting this chapter-real life got in the way of things. Many thanks for your reviews. Please enjoy!

Mulder felt dizzy, and for a split-second, his vision went blurry. "She's my source," he finally mumbled quietly, his words sticking to his throat, dumbstruck by everything that was unfolding.

He watched Scully's face crumble for a split second before she quickly regained her composure. "Marita," she murmured, not trusting herself to speak directly to the other woman.

Scully had heard so much about her over the past few years, yet she still knew so little. Mulder had always been careful in separating her from his relationships with his sources; while she and Mr. X had crossed paths several times, his rather grisly death had made Mulder all the more adamant to adhere to his previous vigilance.

"Let me assure you that I never told Agent Mulder, about our, well, relationship," Marita clarified.

Instinctively, Scully turned her attention to her partner. Although neither of them spoke, the others in their circle sensed that they were engaged in an intense, silent communication. Charlie and Marita exchanged nervous glances, unsure of what exactly was transpiring except that it was intensely private. "I know," said Scully, her comment obviously intended for Mulder's ears only. "I know."

"I need to speak with Dana privately," interrupted Charlie, eager to cut through the tension in the room.

"I'll be fine," Scully told Mulder, squeezing his hand. He reluctantly left, Marita at his heels. They sat at the L of the bar, where he had a relatively unobstructed view of his partner's flame-colored hair. There was no way he was going to let her out of his sight. He fidgeted uncomfortably on his stool, not speaking to his companion until he received his drink.

"I take it you've known the whole time?" he unkindly accused her, meeting Marita's gaze and satisfied to note that she at least had the common decency to look guilty.

"And would you have liked it better if I told you this information during our initial introduction?" she volleyed, tracing circles with her glass on the bar. She had obviously anticipated his question, as well as rehearsed her response; she hadn't missed a beat. "But to answer the question you _are_ really getting at, I did know and yes I am well aware that if I had shared that information with you at the time, things between us would have transpired differently."

As he sulked, Mulder mulled the wisdom of a second drink on a near empty stomach. Just as he determined the responsible course of action would be to wait until he was back at home and the kids were tucked into bed, another dark and stormy was placed in front of him.

Marita shrugged, her blonde hair falling across her face. "We are at a bar," she reasoned, still staring into her drink. "I didn't choose for things to work out in this way."

It took every ounce of his strength not to respond to that statement. As hurt as Mulder felt, he knew that wallowing in that misery wouldn't help the situation. While a part of him had always understood that Marita—as well as his other sources—had been using him to a certain extent, he had never fathomed the possibility that her true intentions were to broker a family reunion with his partner.

"How long have you known?" he finally asked between sips.

"I can't imagine a time when I didn't," Marita responded sadly, not looking up from her whisky tumbler.

His stomach slightly lurched upon hearing her answer. While the news wasn't surprising, he knew that it would still be hard for Scully to swallow. He faintly wondered whether he should have waited for Scully's presence to ask his question. He leaned back to try and get a better glimpse of his partner and her brother, but was only able to make out the tops of their red heads, both emphatically bouncing. He was so intent on his task that he barely heard the sniffling next to him.

Chastising himself for not saying anything sooner, Mulder said, "I'm sorry about your mother."

Marita nodded. "She was sick for a long time," she answered, her voice slightly cracking. "At least she's not suffering."

The lies we tell ourselves, Mulder shuddered, thinking about the many times he and Scully had said the same about Emily. He asked the bartender for a glass of water, hoping it would quell the effect of the alcohol; usually it took much more than two drinks before he became so maudlin. "What was she like?" Mulder asked, reaching for a toothpick, eager to initiate a conversation in which he had minimal participation.

Across the room, Scully tried to keep her temper in check. She had enough of her brother; although she was relieved and overjoyed to see him safe and sound, she wasn't able to withstand any more of his ranting. Charlie was clearly exhausted, jet-lagged and on the wrong side of sobriety; his explanations were littered with references to NATO, a Russian duke, and Greenbrier. "Call Karen and go home to your kids," she pleaded, hoping that her sister-in-law would let him into the house. The last thing she and Mulder needed was Charlie living with them. "We can talk about this tomorrow."

"You can't keep pushing off things you don't want to hear about," protested Charlie.

"I do want to hear about this," Scully sharply corrected him. "But what you are telling me right now is incomprehensible. You aren't making any sense."

"You just don't want to hear it. Guess what, Dana, Dad wasn't perfect, his life was messy. I'm sorry that you don't want to compete with _her _as Dad's favorite daughter, but-"

Scully stood up without a word, turning around in search of Mulder. As soon as she caught sight of him at the bar, she knew he was a few drinks in, and dinner and coffee were in short order. She wasn't so much annoyed as she was frustrated that she hadn't even ordered something for herself. With some trepidation, she approached her partner.

Out of the corner of his eye, and despite his second drink, Mulder could tell that Scully was on edge, and even though she was several feet away from him, he extended his right hand and motioned for her to come forward. Sometimes, that simple gesture had the power to melt away all of her insecurities, and that was exactly what she needed.

As soon as she could reach, she grabbed his arm, and he tugged her towards him with one of her favorite, Mulder-patented expressions: hooded eyes, a stubbled chin, and a devastating smile topped off with a slight pout. It was reminiscent of his look that night they first made love, and they both knew that it always set her heart racing. "How's Charlie holding up," asked Mulder, trying his hardest not to slur his words. Even if she wouldn't admit it, Scully always hated when he got this tipsy without her.

"He needs to sleep," she answered, leaning against Mulder. "He's not making any sense."

"Maybe we should try this again some other time," Marita carefully suggested, looking at Mulder rather than his partner.

"Do you know if he's contacted his wife?" asked Scully.

"I don't know," she shrugged. "I thought he said he did, but then he said he didn't."

"I'll take care of it...Do you both have a place to stay?" The last thing she wanted was for this woman, a virtual stranger to her, but well known to both her partner and brother, to set foot in their home. However, in the past, she all-too-often had fallen into the trap of jealousy and insecurity, and she needed to prove to everyone, including herself, that she could rise above that pettiness. She felt Mulder tense as they awaited Marita's response.

"I have to get back to New York," she explained, much to their relief. "I don't know about Charlie's plans."

Scully drew a sharp breath, clueing Mulder into her thoughts. "We'll take care of him," Mulder promised.

"I would like to get to speak with you, Dana," Marita continued as she slipped off her perch. "I know that it's...complicated. I'm still processing recent events myself. If you aren't ready, I understand. I have to catch my flight now, but please get in touch."

"Marita?"

The blonde whipped around, not expecting to be directly addressed by her half-sister. "Your mother-I'm sorry," flustered Scully. She had been planning to say something along the lines of _I know what it's like to lose a parent_, but had second thoughts, wondering whether it would be too insensitive to allude to their father's death.

Marita half-smiled, murmuring her thanks. Watching as she thread her way through the crowd, Scully turned her attention to Mulder, who looked a little bewildered. "You're good," he told her, pressing a kiss to her temple before continuing. "They called about an hour ago. Before that, I had no idea they were back in the country."

"Who called?"

Mulder felt himself begin to sober. "She did. It's the first time, Scully. She probably used his phone, or the one here. I'll have the Gunmen run a check. She's never contacted the house before."

Scully chewed on her lip. "Was I rude?"

"To her? No. To your brother? I hope so." Maybe he wasn't sobering up after all, Mulder thought; Scully hadn't cracked a smile, and a nervous Scully was never a good sign. Their encounter with Marita had definitely unnerved her.

"Are you okay if Charlie comes to our place?" Scully asked him smoothly, determined to change the subject, as though she knew exactly what he was thinking. "I'm afraid if we get him a hotel room, he'll disappear again."

Mulder nodded, relieved that Scully was taking charge; while that was one of the qualities he admired most about her, he was worried that she was avoiding the very thing she needed to confront. "You stay here with him, and I'm going to go outside to call Karen. I don't want him overhearing me."

"Fuck, Mulder," Charlie once his brother-in-law made his way through the crowd and sat in the seat vacated by his sister. "Dana's being unreasonable. She won't listen to me."

"So then why don't you tell me the story?"

Mulder couldn't quite follow Charlie's narrative, and agreed with Scully's assessment that the younger man couldn't be trusted on his own. What rankled Mulder was that he was interested in what the other man had learned while in Europe, making his disjointed story all the more frustrating. He was relieved when he spotted Scully finally making her way to their table. "I just paid up. Let's get going," she stated. "That means you too, Charlie."

"Shower, food, and bed, in that order." Scully firmly said to her brother once they approached the townhouse. "And don't say anything about this to the kids, got it? Nothing. You are back from a trip and will be going home tomorrow. End of story."

"Bossy," Charlie muttered, not wanting to admit that he was intimidated by his sister's ferocity.

"I kind of like it," Mulder offered, wanting to stand up for Scully as best he could despite his slightly drunken state.

Scully made up the small, unused bedroom on the third floor for her brother as he showered, while Mulder ate a greasy burger cooked up by Hannah along with a cup of strong coffee. When Charlie entered the kitchen, Hannah set him down next to Mulder, serving him an identical meal. "I feel like I'm in trouble," Charlie complained between bites. "And feeding me delicious food only makes me feel more guilty."

"Exactly," Hannah stated, shaking her spatula in his direction.

The only consideration that kept Scully from yelling at her brother were the children, who were still running around with no bedtime in sight. On her own for bathtime duty, she was thankful for the time apart from the other adults. Luckily the boys were relatively mellow, and the younger two were oblivious to the tension. Mulder took over once they were clad in fresh pajamas, reading them bedtime stories in Nathan's bedroom. Scully had slyly picked up an assortment of school-themed picture books during their last trip to the library, and Nathan kept reminding his father that he was going to start real school on Monday.

Scully ate dinner as Charlie holed up in the office, trying to explain the situation to Karen, who at least was forewarned to the fact that her husband was bordering on nonsensical. She then retired to the living room, where Kyle was playing video games. Since she and Mulder had decided that the eleven-year-old was to spend the bulk of his time on the first floor, instead of being holed up in his room, his behavior and mood had improved. The last thing she wanted was for Charlie to spout off stories inappropriate for him to overhear.

Mulder entered the room, crouching over Scully to give her a kiss. She inhaled a combination of coffee, whiskey, and mint as he hovered over her face. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

"You're fine," she promised him, with the underlying message of _we'll talk later._ "But you do owe me a drink."

"I thought you didn't want to go in the first place," he teased, sitting down next to her.

"It was the spontaneity of it all," she explained, throwing her legs across his lap. "I didn't want to leave Hannah in the lurch."

"Can we play a game?"

Both Mulder and Scully snapped their heads towards Kyle. "Sure. What do you want to play?" asked Scully, wondering whether he had intended to include her in his invitation.

"Trivial Pursuit?"

"Go get it, bud," Mulder told him, breaking out into a smile. Once he heard Kyle thump up the stairs, he turned to his partner. "We're getting there. It's slow, but we're getting there"

XXXXXXXXX

Mulder gave up trying to sleep; wide awake, he slipped out of bed at 1:45 AM and padded downstairs to the living room. He switched on the television and mindlessly flipped through the channels, settling on a _Mystery Theatre 3000 _rerun. He was unsettled; he knew that was partially due to the alcohol he had consumed earlier, but he also blamed his restlessness on their meeting with Charlie and Marita.

His stomach soured at the the knowledge that Scully and Marita were sisters. How obvious should that have been? Although it would be fitting that Mr. X's actions had spoken louder than his words, which had certainly been few and reluctant by nature, something about the situation seemed too contrived.

He thought back to that muggy summer night when he introduced Marita to Charlie. At the time, he had been fed up with his brother-in-law's enthusiasm for the cloak-and-dagger routine, as well as distracted with thoughts about returning to the Vineyard in the wake of Scully's car accident. In retrospect, Marita's line about Captain Scully having a thing for blondes now made a hell of a lot more sense.

Scully had asked him once (and only once) about Marita's motives in serving as his source, and he was now ashamed to think that at the time, he had pinned her question to jealousy. After all, they were going through the roughest patch of their relationship, back then, during those months prior to her cancer diagnosis. Although had been mostly sincere in attempting to shield her from the danger associated with his request; she had permeated through almost all areas of his life throughout the first four years of their partnership, with the notable exception of his relationship with his son. But he had to admit that there was a small part of him that wanted something in his life that she didn't touch. Not only had that part of him justified keeping his son a secret, but also motivated him to invite risk wherever he could in ditching his partner, cultivating dangerous relationships, and ignoring common sense.

Looking back, Mulder recognized that he had intentionally baited her during one particular fight by throwing Marita in her face, exploiting her penchant for jealousy, all to gain the upper hand in a stupid argument. It was a cheap shot, one which he instantly regretted. This took place at the onset of their dark period, and he shuddered at the thought of this regrettable misstep as being its catalyst.

He was not proud of the fact that it took her nearly dying for them to open up to one another. Although she alone had been sick, they had healed together, as a couple, separate from their professional relationship. Despite shrinking, that dark knot within him persisted, and even slightly strengthened upon the turmoil surrounding Emily's death.

He didn't even realize that he had fallen asleep on the couch until Scully gently woke him, hovering over his line of sight, her hands softly rubbing circles on his chest. "Come back to bed," she pleaded, her blue eyes wide and wet. "I know what you are thinking, Mulder. And I mean it when I say that I'm not angry or upset about it. We can't change the past."

He searched her face for any clues that her declaration was in essence putting up a brave front, something she kept repeating in hopes of eventually believing it. But all he saw was softness and concern...concern for him and their sons and for the memory of her father. He gently lifted up his hands and tucked her hair behind his ears. "I regret it, Scully."

She shook her head and continued. "Everything that has happened has led to this moment. Good things, bad things, things we regret. And I wouldn't trade any of that if it carried the risk that we wouldn't be right here, right now."

He took hold of her as she lowered onto him, arching his back to better position themselves. He batted away some soft toys while blocks stuffed between the cushions clattered to the floor. This was now _them_; no longer those quiet evenings in a small apartment, or stolen moments on a sticky couch when meant to be working. And certainly not, no, _never, _had it been anonymous fucking in a different city for no reason except for the sake of alleviating boredom and frustration.

This was _them, _in a home, with each other, with their children, with love.

XXXXXXXXX

"Where should we do this?" Scully asked, stepping out of the bathroom in a terry towel, her wet hair dripping. "I know we don't want Kyle to overhear anything."

"What if went to see Byers and Langly?" Mulder suggested, rummaging around the dresser for socks. After dragging themselves upstairs after their romp on the couch, they had promptly fallen asleep, only to be wakened by Will's impatient cries at an all-too early hour. Their almost-no-longer-a-baby now sat in the middle of the bed, chewing on Doggy's ear and playing with his set of zoo animals, perfectly content to ignore his parents. "They can do some on-the-spot fact checking."

Luckily, Byers and Langly were more than happy to oblige, their curiosity having piqued during Charlie's European escapade. When the three of them entered the Gunmen's lair, bringing coffee and breakfast, there was a moment of uneasiness before Langly playfully punched Charlie in the arm. "Good work at Greenbrier, man," the blonde man said, adjusting his glasses. "That was some badass stuff you pulled."

While Langly and Charlie nervously chuckled, the other three members of their group stood silent until Byers led them to the kitchen. Within minutes, breakfast was laid out in their living area, and Charlie began to talk. Compared to the previous evening, the difference in his demeanor was dramatic; dinner, a shower, and twelve hours of sleep had done a world of good for him. Although his speech was clipped, he sounded much less manic than he had the night before.

"Our father was first posted to Berlin in the 1950s as a liaison officer with NATO. He impressed the brass; most of these guys were from old money. Essentially, their positions were bought by their families; it was a way for their children to see Europe and still have political credibility as patriots. Our dad came from a working class background, and he had an empathy for many of the Europeans he worked with; he understood their concerns about food shortages, and rationing, and education. But he wasn't uncomfortable with the big shots, if you know what I mean. He felt just as comfortable at a cocktail table as he did supervising the bread line. That, plus his knack for languages, well, it got him noticed and he climbed the ranks," Charlie began, looking over at his sister to gauge her reaction to his narrative. At this point, he didn't think he had shared anything that she didn't already know, but he wanted to make sure that she was still engaged.

After she nodded, he continued. "In 1958, during the midterm elections, Dad was commissioned to serve on a NATO task force that oversaw security matters in post-war Europe. It was a complicated matter, because as you know, most countries experienced border changes, resulting in refugees and resettlement. I don't even know whether they had a real objective, but it was another Eisenhower administration era tactic to rid the war of Communism. Dad was still pretty junior at the time, but he ended up working with a Russian duke, Fydor Vasiliev. He and his family had fled St. Petersburg right before the Russians joined the war. They spent most of World War II in the UK, and then resettled in Berlin to help carve out the new Europe. He, like all of the other delegates, felt that the wheels of justice were moving far too slowly, and he was eager to see Russian royalty be restored to the throne. The Americans knew that he was probably rigging the game, and looking back, he probably knew that they didn't trust him fully. In any case, Dad was assigned to pretty much spy on him."

Charlie took a long sip of coffee. "This is where it gets complicated. Fydor's niece, Olga Vasiliev, was born a few months after they arrived in England. She had never actually been to Russia, but was doing whatever she could to support her uncle. She was quite the social butterfly, and became quite adept at hiding in plain sight, and slipping secret messages to people without anyone noticing. Anyway, Dad met her through Fydor."

Scully bit her lip, stopping herself from speaking. She hadn't gotten up early on a Sunday to listen to a history lecture; she had wanted to learn more about her father, more about her early life. Charlie sensed her frustration, and holding up both of his hands, he said, rather defensively, "I'm getting there."

Mulder shot him a dirty look, knowing that he wouldn't be able to keep the peace amongst the siblings for much longer. Byers sensed the tension in the room, explaining how he had been able to confirm all of the information that Charlie had just shared. As soon as Byers finished speaking, Charlie picked up where he left off. "Now we get to visit the Scully family crypt," he dryly began.

"May I ask how you verified this part of the story? The part about our family, and not the civics lesson on mid-century Europe?"

"A few places," Charlie testily responded, not appreciating how his sister was doubting his story before he even began to tell it. "So Dad was stationed in Berlin, Mom was in San Diego. She moves out to Berlin with Bill and Melissa, and she hates it. She goes back to the US, but then gets word that Dad's career might be stalling. What made Dad perfect for his job was his ability to listen and to empathize. But the whole political shenanigans and the business of climbing the ladder, he didn't have a head for that. But Mom did. So they all went back to Berlin, and even though she didn't like it, she did her time wining and dining like a naval officer's wife, and I think that's around the time when Dad was given the go-ahead to pursue the Vasiliev connection even further."

Scully tried to keep herself concentrated on Charlie's narrative, having become distracted by his descriptions of their parents; so far there was nothing he said with which she disagreed. She wondered whether, in the long run, that would be a good thing or a bad thing.

"Mom was pretty sick when she was pregnant with you," explained Charlie. "She's been very open about it. In any case, Dad was beside himself. He had spent most of his time when she had been pregnant with Bill and Melissa either at the Academy or at sea, and he just had no idea what was going on or what to do. After you were born, Mom caught an infection and was pretty sick. Olga insisted that you live with her, since she already had a baby nurse for Marita-"

"What?" Scully interrupted.

Charlie looked utterly confused as to the bewildered expression his sister's face, and then saw the blank stare of his brother-in-law. "Marita is three months older than you," he explained, as though that information had been common knowledge.

Scully took issue with his condescending tone; leave it to her brother to waste time explaining the ins and outs of European politics, but to gloss over the family dynamics that got them into this mess, as though they were irrelevant to their present-day situation.

"There's no polite way to say this, Dana," Charlie shrugged, a hint of exhaustion in his voice. "Mom found out that Olga was pregnant, and she realized she wanted to save her marriage, so they had us. You, and as soon as she recovered, me. And during this time, you lived with Olga and Marita. Yes, it's a bit fucked up, but I think we're beyond that at this point."

"So Mom knew about the affair?"

Charlie nodded as Scully's mind buzzed. She wasn't sure _why_ she had been under the assumption that she was older than Marita, as it was impossible for her to tell from the photo which child was older. Somehow, it had just made sense that way, the thought that her father had followed the archetypal pattern of a straying husband who had sought comfort elsewhere during his wife's pregnancy. For whatever reason, that scenario cast her father in a more sympathetic light, in that she was able to easily rationalize his actions.

But like everything else in this strange saga, there was a twist.

"Bill and Melissa knew too. That's why Dad blamed himself for what Bill did, that's why he pulled all of those strings back then. He felt that they only acted out because of his affair."

So that could easily account for her older siblings' behaviors as teenagers. But where did that leave her? Had she been a pawn her whole life-first a bargaining chip for her mother, then a guilt trip for her father, and then a Band-Aid for her older brother? Was her close relationship with her father the result of him trying to overcompensate for having an affair? What impact did it have on the Captain's decision for her to be experimented on in exchange for Bill's freedom?

She gave a hard look at Charlie, trying to ascertain whether his unstable behavior was his reaction to this knowledge. But his incoherent and drunk persona from the previous evening had been replaced by one that was articulate yet excitable. She wanted to ask her younger brother how he had been affected by everything he had learned, but she found it difficult to even compose a simple question. Her mouth suddenly felt heavy and dry.

All of a sudden Charlie's words from their conversation at the bar hit her with full force, ripe with new meaning. "_I'm sorry that you don't want to compete with her as Dad's favorite daughter."_

Had that meant her father had a choice, that November weekend so long ago? That he offered her as the familial sacrificial lamb _instead _of Marita? Or was she reading too much into this, unnecessarily projecting complicated, dramatic scenarios as a means of coping with this information? He had implied that their father had a relationship, a _good _relationship, with Marita. But when, where, and how?

She felt as though she had gone blank. For a flicker of a second, she wondered what emotions her face betrayed, but in that instant, she wasn't worried about her usual outer display of stoicism. The next thing she knew, Mulder was taking away her mug of coffee, replacing it with some iced water. He knelt down in front of her, and she realized that they were now alone in the room. "Drink this," he said, his eyes not leaving hers. "Talk to me, Scully. Let me know what you're thinking."

"I don't really know," she admitted, handing him back the half-empty glass. "I didn't know what to expect, and it certainly wasn't this."

"Take it from someone who has some experience with family secrets being exposed," Mulder gently replied. "Feel whatever you need to feel, but know that your feelings will eventually change."

Looking at her partner, her heart began to hurt. His father had chosen between his children, and more than once at that. He was only standing before her because of that decision, one also made on a cold November night. She knew he had been tortured for years with the question as to whether he had been the chosen child or the one that was sacrificed. And now she was left asking the same questions about herself.

"He loved you, Scully," he reassured her, cupping her face in his hands, his thumbs wiping away the tears that threatened to drip from her eyelashes.

"I'm sorry, but you never met him," she protested, pulling herself off the lumpy sofa.

It was a fair statement, but one that slightly stun. There was nothing Mulder could offer except his sympathy and comfort, and it hurt for her to reject it. He followed her towards the Gunmen's kitchen, where the rest of the group looked uncomfortable, as though they had been caught doing something they were explicitly told not to do.

"How does Marita fit into this? What kind of relationship did she and Dad have?" Scully asked her brother with no preamble.

"That's for her to discuss with you," Charlie answered. "It's not my place."

All of Dana Scully's fury suddenly unleashed. "What the fuck?" she yelled, her voice fierce and fiery. "You unload all of this onto me, these things that directly affect my life, and then you tell me it's none of my business? Which is it, Charlie? You can't have it both ways."

"I tried, Dana," Charlie screamed. "Last night. And then you drove her away."

"That's not fair!" Scully threw her words with all of her might. "You are acting so fucking _manipulative_ right now."

"You are the one," responded Charlie, inching closer to his sister. "Who is taking all of these baby steps. You're hiding behind your kids, you're hiding behind Mulder. We can't all just jump when you ask us to."

"Back off, Charlie!" snapped Mulder, moving between the siblings. "I suggest that you calm down. You are the one who disappeared, you are the one who is stirring up shit for the hell of it."

"Fuck you," Charlie cursed. "If you want to continue this charade, Dana, talk to Marita. I think you'll find that you have a lot in common. I'm sure your husband can put you in touch."

The next thing Mulder knew, Langly had practically tackled him, doing his best to push him out of the room. He vaguely wondered whether he even had the chance throw a punch, but then realized he didn't much care. "Take care of Scully now, that's your job," Langly murmured into his ear before addressing them both. "We'll deal with Charlie."

XXXXXXXXX

"I can't talk about this right now," Scully explained to Mulder once they slumped into the car.

For once, he was relieved; he didn't have any energy to discuss it either.

As soon as they got home, she concentrated on getting Nathan ready for his first day of school, doing an extra load of laundry and cooking dinner, while Mulder took the boys for haircuts under Hannah's supervision. She wasn't used to the silence, and although she had often wished for a quarter hour to catch up on NPR over the past few weeks, the opportunity to the news uninterrupted brought her no enjoyment. By the time everyone arrived home, she had thoroughly cleaned the first floor, had dinner prepped, and had carefully initialed Nathan's school things.

Just as she had gotten teary after his first haircut Labor Day weekend, Scully's throat felt heavy when she saw how much older Nathan looked with his shorn head. In comparison, WIll looked like a baby, but he too was fast looking more like a full-fledged toddler. "I told them not to cut it too short," Mulder softly told her, staring at her lips as she inspected his locks. "I was thinking about last night, and how much I love it when you pull it during-"

They guiltily broke apart when they saw the kids run into the living room, having finished their afternoon snack. Even though there was no possible way anyone had overheard him, or that the boys would even understand what it meant even if they did, Scully blushed furiously. Mulder threw her a wry grin in response, and then settled down on the floor to play with Will, who was furiously calling out "baa baa" and waving around his slightly slimy sheep.

XXXXXXXXX

Mulder wasn't sure who was the most nervous about Nathan's first day of preschool, but it certainly wasn't the three-year-old. He scarfed down his breakfast, wearing his backpack the entire meal, and asked his mother several times whether she had packed his snack.

Since Mulder wanted to drop him off with Scully, he left extra early to attend to carpool duty. Kyle wasn't exactly thrilled with having to get up ten minutes earlier than usual, but before they left, he told Nathan that he had a present for him.

Nathan lit up when his older brother handed him a box. "Wow," Nathan looked amazed when he opened it to find _101 Dalmations _pencils.

"What do you say, Nathan?" prompted Scully, who exchanged a special smile with her partner.

"Thank you!" Nathan sang, hugging his brother.

"That was very sweet of you, Kyle," Scully told her stepson. "Thank you for making this special for him."

"They're just pencils," shrugged Kyle. "Dad really got them."

"That part doesn't matter," she assured him. "It's just a technicality."

Once they reached the parking lot, Scully paused after she cut the ignition. Nathan immediately began yammering to get out of the car, concerned that she forgot they were supposed to be going inside. "Look, Daddy's here," Scully pointed out upon spotting Mulder's car slide into a nearby spot, grateful for his perfect timing.

After she helped Nathan out of his booster seat, she knelt down next to him. "You have Woofy, and your backpack, and your lucky pencils," she smiled. "Do you think you're ready?"

"Yes!"

After taking a few obligatory first day of school photos, they entered the building together, Nathan holding his father's hand. Ms. Briggs, his teacher, warmly greeted them in the hallway. She led them to Nathan's cubby, where he reluctantly placed his backpack. Scully could see him hold Woofy more tightly, still with a grin on his face.

Ms. Briggs quietly asked the parents to say their goodbyes, explaining that in her experience, these transitions went more smoothly when there was a clean break during drop-off. Nathan hugged both his parents and turned his attention to his classmates, who were sitting in a circle on the rug.

"He'll be fine," Ms. Briggs assured them, motioning for them to leave the classroom.

"She's not one for much sentiment," snorted Mulder as he stuck his hands in his pockets.

They stared at the children's artwork on the wall. "It was a bit unceremonious," Scully offered. "But I'm sure she knows what she's talking about.

They dawdled down the hall, Scully looking back every few feet. "He's going to be great, Scully," Mulder reminded her. "If they call either of us, it will because he's gotten into trouble, not that he's homesick. My theory is that cast gave him some extra strength and agility."

By the time they made it back to their cars, Mulder knew that he had to leave for work. "Scully, if you are going to wait here, at least park around the corner. Besides, I bet Ms. Briggs will have you towed if you don't leave in the next few minutes."

"Am I really that predictable?"

"Scully, this is the first time he's been out of our sight for more than a couple of hours, outside our home, with strangers. No one can let go that easily," he explained, leaning against his car. "Plus, well...I just know you."

XXXXXXXXX

During morning pickup, Ms. Briggs' shared a glowing report-Nathan was charming, sweet, energetic, and had out-climbed everyone on the playground. All afternoon, Nathan talked about his new friends, the classroom fish, and his art project. Relieved that his first day went so smoothly, Scully let herself relax for twenty minutes before beginning to worry about her regression hypnosis appointment scheduled for the next evening.

Although Mulder had briefed Dr. Werber when booking the appointment, the psychiatrist made it a point to ask Scully about her reasons for seeking hypnosis. At first, she floundered, but after steadying herself, using Mulder's eyes as her anchor, she began to speak. Dr. Werber patiently listened to her backstory about her father's job and her family's time in Germany as he studied the photo that she brought. "So Dana, you want to explore the time in which this picture was taken? You want to remember this woman, and the other little girl?"

"Yes," she gulped. "I need to remember."

Two hours later, Dr. Werber excused himself from his office under the guise of finding some water for Scully. Mulder knew that his acquaintance was in fact giving them a little bit of time to regroup, and he was thankful for his tact. Scully hated being seen as weak in front of strangers, and in her mind, that had been happening too often over the past few months.

"You okay?" he gently asked her, helping her sit down on the couch.

She nodded emphatically, a subtle sign that she was not in fact fine, despite her protests.

"Do you remember what you said?" Mulder asked with bated breath.

"It's all running together," she said, slumping out of exhaustion, holding her face with her hands. He sat down next to her, rubbing circles on her back, which was damp with sweat.

"Let me remind you," interrupted Dr. Werber, handing his patient a glass of water. "This woman, Olga, was a mother to you. You loved her, you felt safe with her. This other girl was your sister and playmate. You were all very happy together."

"Until I had to go back to my mother. My father and I had to leave, and I was scared," finished Scully softly. "Everything felt unfamiliar to me."

She turned to Mulder. "Remember the teddy bear?" she asked. "I bet my father gave me that afterwards, the first time he went away, leaving me alone."

He nodded. "That makes sense," he agreed, immediately thinking about how much comfort Doggy and Woofy brought Will and Nathan, trying not think about what would happen if he had lost either of them, trying to not recall the pain he felt after his separation from Diana, when he first lost custody of Kyle. An overwhelming feeling of compassion swelled over him for his father-in-law; no matter the degree of his culpability, Captain Scully had faced difficult choices and had certainly suffered.

A shiver ran down his spine when Mulder realized that suddenly, that compassion also extended to William Mulder.

XXXXXXXXX

He felt as though he was suffocating, and nothing alleviated the panic that settled in his throat. He began to shake, unable to cry out, and when he opened his eyes, he saw a pair of frozen blue eyes staring back at him. "Mulder, you're having a nightmare," Scully patiently explained, her voice calm.

His heart rate lowered and his panting turned to heavy breathing. With her help, he sat up against the headboard, suddenly hot and sticky. "How long?"

"It took a few minutes," she admitted, tight-lipped, hinting to Mulder that it must have been much longer. "What were you dreaming?"

"Can you turn off the light?" he requested, trying to buy himself some time. He couldn't tell her exactly what he had dreamed; he would never be able to take in the inevitable pain that would cross her face if he told her the full truth.

Once the bedside lamp was turned off, he settled back down, rearranging his pillows, pulling her close to him. "I keep having that same dream," he reluctantly admitted. "The one from a few weeks ago. The kids are a bit older, and I can't find you anywhere."

"How many times has this been?" she carefully asked.

"A couple of times a week," he admitted. "This one was more intense. But given the, uh, subject matter of the evening, it's not surprising."

"Does the end of the dream ever change?" asked Scully.

"No," he said. "I just..I just have this feeling of dread, of guilt, that I've done something wrong, and you and the kids are suffering."

"Mulder, we've both been under a lot of stress," she reasoned. "You are a wonderful father, and you are amazingly compassionate, and it's only natural to project everything that's been happening."

"I know," he wistfully said, burying his nose in her hair, absently playing with her red locks. He did his best to control his breathing as he suddenly worried about the part of the dream he had not shared; the wide blue eyes of a redheaded baby girl, clutching a teddy bear and calling for her mother.

XXXXXXXXX

The next morning, Scully was woken up with a deep kiss by her partner. "This is a nice way to wake up," she commented with a sleepy smile, inhaling the aroma of coffee. She looked to her right, and saw a mug on her nightstand. "I take it you were able to get some sleep?"

He nodded. "A little. Will isn't too happy that we didn't go bye-bye this morning," he shrugged. "But I thought of a way to make it up to him."

She arched an eyebrow, muddled with pre-caffinated morning confusion. "What do you mean?" she asked, stifling a yawn, gratefully accepting the mug he handed to her.

"Lunch today," he said excitedly, a boyish grin on his face. "After you pick Nathan up from school, you and the kids come by the Bureau, and we go to lunch."

Still perplexed, she chose her words carefully. "I thought you wanted to be low-key at work," she gently reminded him. "The rumor mill and all that."

"I've been approaching this the wrong way, Scully. And I need to make up for it," he explained, the speed of his voice picking up. "I've been doing a lot of thinking, and especially after last night...I don't want our kids to think that we wanted to hide them. Yes, I was doing this in their best interest-at least, I thought I was-but I don't want them looking at photos and listening to hearsay in twenty years, and coming to the conclusion that we didn't want people to think that they even existed."

"Mulder, the situations are totally different," argued Scully.

"To us, yes, but we're the parents, Scully. I'm thinking about it from their perspective, as children. And we've been spending the better part of the past forty-eight hours trying to rationalize your parents' motives. I don't want them to have to do that. I want them to be able to find old photos and think of warmhearted stories. I want them to be able to pick out people in a picture, and not have to worry or wonder why others aren't in it," he continued.

As she sipped her coffee, Mulder could see that she was beginning to catch onto his thought pattern. They would have a lot of difficult questions to answer in the future, she figured. She had no idea how they were going to have to explain why they weren't in Will and Nathan's albums of baby photos, why they didn't have first-hand accounts of their first steps or first words. While she still believed that Mulder's low-key approach of their family life while at work was perfectly reasonable, she understood the zeal behind his reconsideration.

"Why don't we make it an early dinner?" she suggested. "That way we don't have to worry about naptime meltdowns, and so Kyle can be there too."

Mulder's grin broadened. "This is why I love you," he murmured, pulling her close for another kiss.

XXXXXXXXX

As the son of two remarkably overprotective parents, Nathan had little understanding of the concept of stranger danger. In the time it took them to walk from their parking space to Mulder's office, he told a half-dozen Bureau employees that he was three-years-old and went to school, much to his older brother's embarrassment. "Why can't he be quiet?" sulked Kyle as they slowly made their way through the security line.

"Hi!" Nathan cheerfully greeted the guards, his backpack bouncing as he jumped up and down, while Scully whispered for him to calm down.

"Hi! Hi!" Will repeated from his perch in Scully's arms. She had made the dangerous decision to forgo the double stroller during their visit, a choice she was afraid she would soon regret.

"Agent Scully, it's nice to see you," Tyrell, one of the guards, told her, giving a little wave to Will as he hovered his security wand over them. He had always been friendly, and Scully remembered that on at least one occasion, he had told off agents who had cracked a Spooky joke in her presence.

"It's been a long time," she smiled, introducing him to the boys. "I hope you've been well."

Luckily, the awkward pleasantries were interrupted as the line moved along, and Scully suddenly thought of a million questions she could be asked walking the halls of the Hoover Building. Was she still an agent? Was she coming back from leave? Who do the children belong to? Is she still in touch with Mulder? Is she actually married to him? Did she know her brother was a murderer? How did she not know he was a murderer?

She took a deep breath and looked around, relieved to see Kimberly exiting an elevator. "It's great to finally see you!" she cheerfully said, taking in the sight of the three Mulder boys. "And it's good to see you again too, Nathan. How's the arm?"

"I go to school," he told her. "There's a fish."

"You and your dad have the exact same attention span, " Kimberly warmly responded. "That makes me feel that there is a little justice in this world."

"Will, you aren't getting down until we find your dad," Scully said as her youngest son began to wiggle and kick, jabbing her sides. Will had recently been displaying his penchant for running away as soon as he broke free of whatever-or whoever-was confining him.

"No!" Will protested stubbornly, trying even harder to get out of her grasp. The terrible twos were upon them, Scully thought.

Kyle gave his brother a lopsided smile, admiring his determination. "What if I held his hand?"

Scully appreciatively nodded, setting Will down on the floor, not giving up her hold on him until Kyle grabbed his hand. "If he gets too much-"

"I know, I know," muttered Kyle.

As they exited the elevator, Scully reminded the kids to be quiet, thankful that they were making their visit at the end of the workday instead of during lunch. From the looks of it, most of the agents and staff were wrapping things up for the end of the day. A few people smiled when Nathan or Will excitedly waved to them, and while several people did a double-take when they saw her walk by, only a few blatantly stared.

"Does it feel strange to be back?" Kimberly asked Scully.

"That's one way to put it," she responded, keeping a close eye on Nathan, who had a tendency to wander when not holding someone's hand. The last thing she needed was for him to try and climb up on someone's desk, which was something he had done the day before when she was tidying up the home office.

"Daddy!" Nathan began to repeat as he ran out-of-sight, his brothers at his heels. Scully began to pick up her pace, but Kimberly assured her that he had indeed entered Mulder's office suite.

Scully smiled as she saw Mulder crouching down, accepting hugs from his youngest children. She was surprised to see him so relaxed; perhaps his previous course of action, to keep his family under the radar, had been weighing on him. After leading the kids into his office, Mulder turned his attention to his partner.

"I missed you," Mulder murmured, leaning over Scully for a deep kiss, giving her a satisfied smirk when they broke apart. "That's something that I've wanted to do for years."

Scully blushed, suddenly aware that there were a handful of agents-who reported to Mulder, nonetheless-milling about, clearly intrigued by their family reunion. It didn't go unnoticed that a few of them looked a bit shell-shocked, and by the glint in Mulder's eye, that was something he had also witnessed.

Having grown bored inspecting his father's office, Will wiggled out of his brother's grasp and as he ran towards his parents, he smacked into Agent Symmons before tumbling onto the floor, along with some files that Symmons was carrying. Stunned, it took a moment for Will to begin crying. "Will, buddy," Mulder calmly soothed, picking him up and holding him close, cradling the one-year-old's head against his shoulder.

As Will calmed down, Mulder apologized to Symmons, who looked bewildered. "He forgets to look where he's going," explained Mulder. "He's not really hurt."

Symmons stiffly apologized, and hurriedly cleaned up his files. "Oh, and Agent Symmons? I think this entitles me to get that 25% of the office pool."

XXXXXXXXX

After Symmons and Nelson scurried out of the office, Scully flashed Mulder her trademark arched eyebrows. "That was not the reason I suggested this, Scully, I swear," Mulder responded. "This was just a bonus. A big bonus."

"You did a good job there Will," Mulder whispered to his youngest son as Scully rolled her eyes. "He deserved it."

Scully rolled her eyes; intending to search for Nathan and Kyle, she heard someone call her name. She turned around, coming face-to-face with Debbie Wright, an agent based in the forensics lab, with whom she worked frequently."I'm so glad I ran into you," Agent Wright rushed. "When did you start back up? I've been trying to get in touch with you."

"I'm still on leave," Scully explained, hoping that Wright wouldn't ask when she would be returning.

"That explains it," said Wright. She always spoke frantically, as though she were running out of time. "That paper you and I collaborated on with Nick Huston, gosh, was it over a year ago, now? Anyway, it was accepted as a presentation at a symposium next week in New York. I know it's last minute, but you should attend with us. There really isn't much to prepare besides looking it over again. It's really just a long question and answer session."

"Since I'm not on active duty, I can't represent the Bureau," sighed Scully, disappointed. She had spent a great deal of time the previous fall in writing the paper and preparing it for submission to several different outlets. It was one of the project she had worked on that was unrelated to her partnership with Mulder; generally he was the expert, and she was the plus one. But this particular article had been a different beast altogether, in that its genesis came from a conversation she had with Wright and Huston. Maybe that was why she had worked so hard on it; she needed to carve out something work-related that was completely separate from the X-Files.

"So go as a scientist, go as yourself," Wright encouraged her. "There are no publications that will emerge from this event, and it's really an academic thing organized by a friend of Nick's at Columbia. So I wouldn't worry about Bureau policy. Think about it, at least."

Wright pulled a card out of her bag. "Here's my direct line," she said, pressing it into Scully's hand. "I expect you to call me tomorrow, so I can give you the details. You worked really hard on this, we all did, and that's why you should be there too."

XXXXXXXXX

"I think you should go," urged Mulder later that night, putting his toothbrush down and grabbing a hand towel to wipe off the corner of his mouth, right where toothpaste always clung to his lower left lip. He remembered the hours she had spent last fall revising the paper.

"But—," she stumbled, frustrated that she couldn't think of an argument to make. She ran the washcloth under some hot water, scrubbing the remnants of her nighttime moisturizer from her face. It was the one step of her skincare regimen that she had clung to throughout the months in which she stopped working. She had a small horde of makeup that had sat untouched in a drawer since their move to DC, not having bothered to create space for it within the bathroom cupboard. After a mere five months of parenting, the prospect of an early morning routine more complicated than deodorant and eau de toilette felt exhausting.

"Nathan is still adjusting to school," she sputtered, knowing it was a lame excuse.

"We're always adjusting to something."

A flicker of annoyance spread across her face. Mulder knew instantly that he had successfully countered her strongest argument. "I'll work from home Friday afternoon," he offered, realizing that he was beginning to skate on rather thin ice. After all, they both knew full well that his work schedule was unpredictable at best. "We can pick up Nathan from school together, and drop you off at the airport."

She wrung the washcloth out, laying it neatly across the tap. "He'll need lunch first." Mulder could tell she was beginning to come around to his plan. "And he'll start to get cranky before his nap."

"So you take a cab to the airport after drop-off, and I'll pick up Nathan, feed Nathan, and while I'm at it, I think I can remember to do the same for the other two," he shrugged, tossing her a boyish smile. "We can make this work."

"But if you end up leaving town, I'm not going," replied Scully firmly, fidgeting with the waistband of her pajama pants, a move that secretly drove Mulder crazy. He walked towards her, slipping his hands around her hips, enjoying the softness of her skin.

"You need to do this," he murmured, tugging her closer to him.

"What if I'm not ready?" she asked, grazing her teeth across his upper right deltoid. "I haven't been apart from the kids overnight."

"You will be ready," he reassured her, sinking his face in her neck.

XXXXXXXXXXX

She nervously looked at the sprawl of silk and wool strewn across the bed. As she pulled her suitcase up to the loveseat, she glimpsed the juxtaposition before her: the meticulous, dry-cleaned professional attire, and the laundry baskets on the floor, piled with stained cotton and denim.

She carefully folded the suits and blouses, wondering whether they would still fit. She hadn't worn these items in months, and the slightly scratchy feel of the jackets and the slippery scraps of the shells felt foreign. She scoffed at herself, thinking about the energy and time she spent finding quality clothing that would withhold the wear and tear of her field work, all in the name of practicality. Now, the joke was on her; the prospect of additional trips to the dry cleaner being beyond impractical. Even when Mulder wasn't traveling, they were making at least one run a week, as grubby handprints and snot wreaked as much damage on his workwear as flukemen and uncooperative suspects. She frowned as she rearranged the clothing in her suitcase, thinking of the effort it would take to hand wash and dry the fabrics.

Still uncertain as to whether she would be overdressed or underdressed for the event, she added some more casual attire before finally zipping up the carryon. She hung the rest of the clothing in the darkest corner of the closet, not wanting the blazers and skirts to taunt her about the prospect of returning to work every time she opened it.

Folding the boys' t-shirts and jeans and pajamas allowed her time to think. Mulder constantly asked her as to whether that particular chore was even worthwhile, to which she was never able to come up with an on-the-spot response.

She was almost finished with the last load when Nathan entered the room, complete with bedhead and a rumpled look on his face. "Do you want to play a game?" she asked her son. She knew that making chores into something allegedly fun was a parenting trick that wouldn't last much longer, so she wanted to take full advantage of his still slightly sleepy state.

"Good job," she praised him once the contents of his basket were distributed among his bureau shelves. Sitting on the floor with her back leaned against the bed, Nathan settled on her left leg, clutching two of his trains. "I'm going on a trip tomorrow, monkey," she reminded him. "So I'll take you to school, but then I'm going to New York, and I'll be back on Sunday. So that means Daddy will pick you up and you'll get to do something fun with him. And on Saturday-that's two tomorrows, sweetie-you and Daddy and your brothers are going to see the dinosaurs at the Smithsonian, and I bet he'll let you eat lots of treats, and then I'll be back the next day. I'm going to miss you so, so much, but I'll be back soon."

"Why?" Nathan asked, his hazel eyes curious.

"I'm going to a meeting to talk to other doctors," she explained. She saw a look of panic cross his face. "Nobody's sick, monkey. We just talk about how to help people."

"I go?"

Scully shook her head sadly. "No kids allowed," she explained glumly. "It's going to be pretty boring."

"Why?"

From a clinical point of view, she knew that Nathan was on target for that particular stage of child development. However, that knowledge had not prepared her for experiencing it first-hand. "Because of my job."

Or was it? The words were out of her mouth before she fully realized what she was saying. While the colloquium was related to her career as a pathologist, it wasn't something she was required to do by her not-at-the-moment employer. She was still interested in the science behind the investigations that were to be presented, but she was still unsure whether it was personal or professional.

"Why?"

Thankfully, Will began to cry out from his crib, giving Scully the excuse to push those difficult thoughts out of her mind. Nathan's questions stopped, at least for the time being, distracted by packing up for their trip to the park. For some reason, she thought it would be a good idea to bring Bandit with them, and was thankful when the temperature dropped enough that the boys didn't complain too much when she told them it was time to return home.

Hannah pressed a mug of hot tea in her hand after she struggled with helping Will out of his jacket; her youngest child had squirmed and fidgeted, determined to make a simple task as difficult for his mother as possible. As soon as both arms were free, he ran after Bandit; once they were out of sight, the adults heard a crash and a cry from the living room. Scully winced, peeking her head around the corner, relieved that the chaos came from a tower of blocks tumbling onto Nathan's toys.

"Are you sure that-"

"You're going," Hannah firmly said.

XXXXXXXXX

"Have fun at school, monkey. Be good," Scully reminded Nathan.

"I'm always good," he scoffed, impatiently eyeing some of his classmates who were standing next to the classroom fish.

"Daddy's going to pick you up," she reminded him. "Tomorrow, you and Daddy and Will and Kyle will go-"

"Dinosaurs!"

Scully smiled; Nathan's enthusiasm was contagious. "I love you, monkey," she told him, giving him a hug and a kiss before he wiggled out of her embrace to join his new friends at the aquarium. She felt better about leaving when she saw two kids immediately gravitate towards her son; a large part of her anxiety about sending him to go to school was whether he would make friends, and that fear appeared to be unfounded. The preschool teachers had given glowing reports about Nathan's behavior and interactions with the other children. Unsurprisingly, Nathan's biggest challenge was talking too much (and out of turn). In other words, he was a totally typical three-year-old.

Walking through the airport, Scully quelled the butterflies in her stomach. She hadn't flown since May, and the metallic sound of her shoes hitting the floor, and the scrape of her carryon echoing the halls seemed oddly familiar. Since bumping into Agent Wright the previous week, she had been struggling with her feelings regarding her career. She knew she didn't want to travel, so field work would be off the table, and the thought of commuting to Quantico was unappealing. If she had to select her own role at the Bureau, it would most likely be in the forensics lab, where the work would be challenging and would also allow her a more-to-less nine-to-five schedule. Whether that would happen or whether she would _want_ it to happen remained to be determined.

Settling onto her seat, Scully pulled out her laptop bag, where she had stashed a copy of the paper. For something that had been so consuming at one time, Scully felt she remembered relatively little. As she opened the folder, she saw a manila envelope marked _Open Me._

Curious, Scully slit open the envelope, which contained a large handmade card that stated, in Mulder's messy scrawl, _We love you_, decorated in Will and Nathan's artwork. As she smiled at the colorful doodles, she saw an arrow pointing to the back flap. She flipped over the page, and saw a message from Mulder, reading _Only if you are ready_, along with a phone number with a New York area code.

XXXXXXXXX

Scully decided that the adjustment to speaking with adults, during the day, for long stretches of time, was a bit like fighting jet lag. Mentally speaking, she was about 85% present, with the remainder made up of sudden thoughts about mundane items, such as whether there was expired yogurt in the refrigerator and whether she should switch mornings for the mommy-and-me swim class in which she had enrolled Will, all while speaking with other doctors and scientist about hot topics in pathology and forensic science. She was happy that she was able to keep up with the conversation, grateful for having skimmed through the backlog of medical journals over the past week, finding them piled in a wicker basket in the closet. She wondered how they had landed there until she opened up an issue from August with crayon scrawls on almost every page.

She made it through a whole three hours before calling home, briefly talking to Nathan and Will, who she could tell were more interested in whatever game she interrupted. Mulder sounded uncharacteristically shy and nervous. "What's wrong?" she asked, the anxiety rising in her throat; after all, what else _could_ happen to them.

"I-I'm having second thoughts about what I wrote on the card," he explained. She could tell that he was chewing on sunflower seeds.

"Don't," she pleaded. "I know we really haven't talked about this. But I think I should-at least I think...I think I'm going to call."

"Do it for yourself, Scully, not for anyone else, me included. Just think about it."

After hanging up with her partner, Scully fished the card out of her bag, and dialed the number.

XXXXXXXXX

Scully purposely scheduled coffee with Marita for the next afternoon, during an hour long break in the schedule. She figured that if it went well, she could suggest that they meet later that day, and it would be easy enough to make excuses for bailing on the dinner portion of the program. She saw Marita immediately upon entering the cafe she had suggested, a few blocks away from the hotel.

After they both received their lattes, they awkwardly sat in their booth, until Scully got up the courage to speak. "Mulder and I don't keep secrets from one another," she began. "I just want to make that clear."

Marita nodded, her eyes moving to her mug. "I know what you mean," she softly replied.

She then immediately changed the subject. "I need to thank you, Marita."

"For what?"

"For keeping Charlie safe the past few weeks," she continued. "I know that you've been in contact with him, and although I don't understand the circumstances in which you two have worked. Well, he's the kind of person who needs someone to keep him in check."

"I know that I have a lot of explaining to do," Marita admitted, tucking her hair behind her ears. "This summer, everything...Looking back, in some ways it doesn't make sense that I didn't tell anyone about our connection. But that had been my mother's wish; so I did whatever I could to help you and Mulder, to make up for it, in a way. When she became sick again, this summer, and we knew it was terminal. Bill was arrested around that time, and my mother...well, it stirred up a lot of memories and she had a change of heart. She wanted to make sure that you and Charlie would be okay, and finally consented to telling you."

Scully could see Marita blink back tears, and she struggled for a moment before finishing. "She had never actually ever been to Russia, funnily enough. She wanted to see it, before she died. And Charlie got to meet her. She was actually excited, which surprised me, and I think she felt closure, seeing him, especially since she says he looks so much like Dad."

Caught off-guard by Marita's statement, Scully displayed a look of panic, struggling to keep it together. "What was your relationship with him like?"

As Marita answered her question, Scully could tell that she was trying to be tactful. "I didn't see him all that much, probably once a month," Marita responded. "Sometimes more often, sometimes less. But he always wrote me letters. And when we did have time together, it was quality time-we talked, we read books, we played games."

Scully nodded. "We used to read _Moby Dick_," she said. "It was our special time together, when he was on shore leave."

"We read _Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea_," Marita smiled. "He called me Nemo."

"I was Starbuck."

That broke the ice between them. Listening to Marita speak, Scully was struck by one fact: Charlie notwithstanding, Marita was now the only person in her life who knew the Captain, who remembered what he was like as a father. They, for the most part, had separate yet strikingly parallel childhoods, they still shared a common memory of him. Up until that moment, she had anticipated leaving their meeting with feelings of jealousy, or perhaps of resentment. In preparing herself to resent Marita, she had not considered the possibility of connecting with her instead.

"Do you remember when you lived with us?" Marita asked, running her fingers along the rim of her coffee mug.

Scully moved uncomfortably in her seat, not wanting to explain the regression hypnosis. "A little," she answered haltingly. "I remember feeling safe, and feeling loved, mostly. I remember leaving, and how scarring that was."

"That's why Dad gave you that teddy bear," Marita offered companionably, rushing to explain her comment when she saw a strange look cross Scully's face. "I had one too."

By the end of the hour, Scully was left with few answers, and still had no understanding of what had prompted Charlie to disappear during the trial. Beyond that, she had hundreds of items she wanted to ask, but didn't think that their first meeting would be the time to ask such probing questions. When she called Marita, she was expecting that their conversation would be analogous to one she would have with an expert witness. But instead it was more like a catch-up session with a college friend you hadn't seen in years, which made posing certain questions difficult for her. It was clear that Marita was well-versed in their father's career, but since they were both so guarded, it became like the elephant in the middle of the room. As they left the cafe, Scully thanked Marita for meeting her. "I'm glad your mother got the closure she needed before she died," Scully said as they exited the cafe.

Marita half-smiled, half-grimaced. "I am too," she responded. "My mother loved you. She was heartbroken when you left. I know that you are too young to remember. I probably don't remember it myself, and I had just internalized all of the stories she told me. But she never forgot you."

Feeling slightly guilty for not truly remembering Olga Vasiliev, Scully whispered her thanks. When they finally parted, they didn't make any plans to meet for dinner, or drinks. "When you're in DC, call us," she said, surprised at her own suggestion. "Let me write down our home phone number." It was time well enough to stop the subterfuge, she decided. No more secret phone calls or meetings in the shadows. Although she didn't know _when_ she would be ready to make that next step, she knew that it would entail an invitation to their home, and not a secret midnight meeting.

XXXXXXX

At dinner that night, Scully did her best to pay attention to the other attendees, politely asking questions about their work and the papers they had presented earlier that day. By the time she made it to the hotel, she was exhausted. Distracted by thoughts of her family, trying to guess what they might be doing at that very instant, she crossed the hotel lobby, more oblivious to her surroundings than usual. She headed towards the elevator bank, which was tucked in the L of a hallway, requiring her to pass through the hotel bar.

As she turned a corner, she felt someone grab her from behind, sending a bolt of fear through her as she stumbled into a wall.

"What do you think you're doing, Agent Scully?"


	44. Chapter Forty Three

**A/N: I'm so sorry for the delay in posting, and I appreciate your patience. Real life was just kicking me in the behind! I hope you like this installment. :)**

Why was she hearing Mulder's voice? Had she finally cracked—was all of the pressure over the past several months finally getting to her?

"It's me, Scully," she heard him whisper in her ear as she turned around to face him. "I came here to see about that drink I owe you."

"Christ, Mulder," she sighed with relief. "You had me worried there for a minute...Wait, where are the kids?"

Mulder grimaced; this was not the way he envisioned the start to their surprise evening. "They are safe and snug at home. Elisabeth and Coop are staying over tonight. I promise you, Scully, in my head, this whole exchange went a hell of a lot smoother," he apologized, having quickly realized that they might not be on the same page. "If we went according to plan, I would have seduced you by now, before we were even able to make it to the elevator."

Her expression softened; although she was a bit annoyed at not having been consulted in a decision about overnight childcare, she clearly remembered how two weeks prior, she had told him to plan a weekend getaway. She knew she couldn't have it both ways, and one look at her partner's face reminded her that he had only the best of intentions at heart. She rushed to give him that extra reassurance. "In that case, Agent Mulder, why don't we try this again?" Leaning forward, she brushed away some lint from his sweater, inhaling his musky scent. "I am going to drop my stuff in the room, freshen up, and I'll be back in five minutes. And you'll have that drink waiting for me?"

"Uh-huh," Mulder responded, a grin tracing his lips as he nodded, grateful that he hadn't completely screwed up. He knew full well that she would take longer than five minutes because she would probably be on the phone, checking in on the boys, as soon as he was out of sight. He handed her his overnight bag. "Take this. There's something for you in here."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Twelve minutes later, she joined him at the bar, wearing the black dress that he had packed. While she had always felt it never wore that well, it was one of his favorites, so she wasn't surprised that he had picked it. But of course, it wasn't as though he had a large selection from which to choose.

While Scully had been told that her partner lit up whenever she entered the room, she had always dismissed that notion as hyperbolic, as one of those things that people just say whenever referring to a couple. But right then and there, she could have sworn that she actually saw it happen. Upon exiting the elevator bank, she caught sight of him slouched over a hightop table, his head turned to SportsCenter, which was blaring from one of the televisions. When he turned his head as he readjusted his lanky frame on cramped stool, she saw his bored expression transform into a genuine smile upon realizing she was in view.

"Are you trying to kill me, Scully?" he asked once she sat down, fumbling for words.

"That wouldn't be much fun for me, would it?" she pointed out as he nudged her drink closer to her. "So is this the real reason for why you were pushing me to attend this meeting?"

"I think it's more than reason enough," he responded, relieved that she was relaxed. He extended his right hand across the table to entwine it with her own. He ran his thumb up and down her palm, playing with her rings, unable to hide a smug look when she let out an involuntary gasp. "You, me, a hotel room, no interruptions."

"I'm very lucky to have you," shared Scully, looking at her partner as though she hadn't actually seen him in ages. "You spent a lot of time thinking about this. I know that I...well, I put us on the back burner too much. I'm trying this whole balancing thing, but you're going to have to be patient with me."

Mulder was touched, knowing that she was venturing out of her comfort zone. "I would argue that you are trying rather valiantly," he pointed out, chuckling when he saw Scully raise an eyebrow. "I vaguely recall being propositioned on the couch last week."

"Sounds like I'll have to jog your memory," Scully retorted, taking a sip of her drink, which was refreshingly strong.

"I didn't say I forgot about what happened right after we got started," he winked. "But since part about tonight is mastering the lost of art of the slow burn, we have some time to figure it out."

Ninety minutes later, slightly buzzed and clutching a bottle of wine Mulder had sweet talked their server into taking upstairs in strict violation of hotel policy, he grabbed Scully's hand and led her out of the bar.

"Do you think we'll even be able to make it to the elevator?" he whispered in her ear before nipping at her lobe as they crossed the lobby. A warmth crept up her neck as she considered his challenge, vaguely wondering whether any of the other program participants were in view, before quickly deciding she didn't care.

While they behaved themselves in the lift, they only just barely managed to make it to their room, startled by a noisy group of bachelorette party guests who had drunkenly tumbled out of their suite halfway down the hall. That reminder that they were still in a semipublic place resulted in a scramble of limbs as they fumbled to swipe their keycard and push open the door before being caught.

It wasn't for a few more seconds that Mulder became cognizant that his partners hands had been inside his boxers well before they had crossed the threshold. Doing his best to string together a sentence, he finally managed to say, "That might have been the hottest thing you have ever done."

He was completely unprepared for her saucy reply. "Think you can do better, Mulder?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The next morning, Mulder instinctively pulled his arms around her waist when he felt her leave his grasp. "I have to go," Scully murmured. "I'm already late."

He groaned and reluctantly loosened his hold on her when he saw the bedside clock read 8:35. "I should be finished by 12:30," she groggily explained, stumbling to find some clothes. "Check out is at noon, and I can't leave the final session early and—"

"I'll deal with check-out and packing," Mulder promised, yawning. "Just call me when you are done."

He collapsed back onto his pillows, his head aching. He looked over to the nightstand, where the drained wine bottle sat. Just as he was dreading the thought of leaving the bed in search of water, his partner appeared with a tall glass and some ibuprofin. "Stay," he pouted, gratefully accepting the water and painkillers.

She looked conflicted, and once she said she had to work, he didn't think twice about his response. "No you don't," he whined.

Watching her withdraw her hand from his reach, Mulder realized the gravity of what he had said. "Scully, I didn't mean it like that," he winced, cursing himself for his thoughtlessness. "I just meant-"

"I know what you meant," she said quietly, wishing his words hadn't stung the way they did, not wanting to be the one who ruined the mood of their trip. Their hours alone together were few and precious. Later that day, they would have to confront the real world; in between tending to the children and rushing through the usual Sunday chores she would have to explain her meeting with Marita, somehow put into words the strange sensation of finding a sister with a parallel childhood. And that would be hard enough for her, even without having to navigate their collective guilty feelings and relationship hangups. As much as they would like to think that it was Mulder and Scully against the world, sometimes it was really them against each other.

"It's fine. I'll call you when I'm finished," Scully reassured him after a beat. She knew that Mulder would probably obsess over that lengthy pause, and although she wish he wouldn't, she knew that nothing stopping short of getting back into bed with him wouldn't convince him otherwise. Although that thought was more than tempting, she needed to keep her promise to her colleagues—and to herself—and and get to the conference room.

He took in her weak smile, only feeling slightly better about things when she leaned over to kiss him. "I love you," she reminded him, shushing his further apologies. "I'm fine, really, I promise."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He reluctantly dragged himself out of bed an hour later, in search of strong coffee and an authentic New York bagel, trying to remember whether he knew of any decent breakfast spots in the area. After making his way through a crowded deli, he walked towards Central Park with his bagels and lox.

As Mulder waited to cross Central Park West, brushing shoulders with impatient runners and parents struggling with strollers, he saw a familiar figure, clad in running gear, jogging towards him. He stopped short, causing a group of pedestrians to bump into him. Ignoring their snarling, he stood on the curb frozen, unsure of the appropriate etiquette.

Marita slightly nodded towards him as she kept pace, their fleece jackets barely touching as she ran passed, continuing down West 84th Street. He regrouped, rushing through the crosswalk in the opposite direction, just barely dodging an errant cab. After entering the park, he settled down on a bench, wondering whether he had been followed, and if so, for how long.

Fishing his food out of the greasy paper bag, he pulled out a wadded piece of paper. Carefully unwrinkling it over his lap, he tried to make sense of the message, written in a childish scrawl. _Sam I Am. _

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Sipping his coffee, he turned the yellow sheet over. _You can't quit now or they'll win_.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

All of his anxieties melted away when he caught sight of her approaching the lobby bar. Instead of a cocktail, he handed her a strong coffee, knowing that two hours of sleep would soon be catching up with her. "My, my, you look mighty smug," she teased as he played with her curls. He couldn't remember a time in which she attended a professional event without her hair stick straight; but he also couldn't remember an instance in which she only woke up with twenty minutes to spare.

"This suits you," he smiled as though in a daze. He must have been more hungover this morning than he thought for not having realized how his partner was practically glowing.

"The sex certainly does, but I'm still not sure about the hair," she quipped, practically inhaling her coffee.

They both knew, right then and there, that if they did not have their three incredibly important reasons for needing to be home, they would have immediately backtracked to the reception desk to extend their stay. Smiling at their secret, Scully stretched upward to wipe away a smudge on the corner of his mouth. He caught sight of a mark on her neck, pulling her towards him for a closer inspection. "It seems I did some work there," he remarked, lightly running his fingertips over the bruise on her neck.

"If I recall correctly," countered Scully. "There might be some damage to your back."

His practically heard his heart thump upon hearing her unexpected statement, and he smiled into her hair. "If we leave now," he suggested, squeezing her free hand. "We might be able to get on an earlier flight."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

As they settled in their seats on the plane, Scully murmured softly that she had to catch him up on some news. "Me too," he nodded. "But we're not home quite yet."

With that reprieve, she gratefully burrowed into him as best as her seatbelt would allow, content to sleep through their short flight. She regretted doing so, the grogginess making her head feel heavy once she woke up during their landing. Somehow, Mulder had been able to lead them both to a cab stand, and she quickly fell back asleep as they made their way through the DC traffic.

Once they reached the back door, Scully clasped her hand over Mulder's just as he pulled out his keys. "Thank you," she repeated, giving him another kiss. "We needed this."

"Maybe we could plan for something a little bit longer in January?" he asked, his voice tentative yet hopeful.

"I think we definitely should," she nodded, tracing circles on the back of his hand. "We'll be more than ready. Just as long as we could get home in a few hours."

"I'll work on it," he promised, thinking her terms were more than reasonable; after all, he wouldn't want them to be too far from home either. As his mind raced with encyclopedic knowledge of warm weather locations within a four hour flight range from DC, he didn't immediately catch Scully's eye.

"It's too quiet," she whispered nervously. In her experience, entering a silent house where toddlers resided was generally not a good sign. Trying not to panic, she abandoned her suitcase in the back entryway and walked quickly through the first floor, in search of the boys.

"Mommy, mommy, mommy!" Nathan pulled himself away from his train set upon realizing his parents were home, giving his mother a big hug before doing the same with his father. While he and his brothers were used to their dad's frequent traveling, it had been the first time their mother had been away from them.

In contrast with Nathan's theatrical enthusiasm, Will hung back and clung to his babysitter.

"I've missed you so much, bullfrog," Scully gushed, poised to pick up her youngest son.

"No!" Will stubbornly pouted, hiding behind Elisabeth.

"Will," Mulder interceded, hoping to mediate the situation. "Come over here, buddy."

Will dutifully ran over to his father, giggling when Mulder tossed him in the air. "We missed you, slugger. Why don't you give your mom a hug?"

Mulder wished with all of his might that Will would obey, and certainly enough, Will allowed his mother to give him a kiss, but turned his head as quickly as he could. "I'm sorry, Scully," Mulder apologized, wanting to wipe away the hurt expression on his partner's face.

"It's a common reaction with kids his age," Scully shrugged, putting on a brave face. She remembered Peter doing the same thing with his own mother a few times after spending a weekend with her, remembering how she had always found Karen's indignant reaction as being over-the-top. While watching Will ignore her stung, she would have been more concerned if he had spent the weekend upset that both his parents were gone. "He'll stop being mad at me soon enough."

Elisabeth look embarrassed as Will made a beeline to her once his father sat him down, hugging her knees and avoiding his mother's gaze. "Please don't worry about it," Scully reassured the babysitter. "Nathan, did you have a good time with Elisabeth and Coop and Hannah?"

"Yes. We played and we had a fort," he explained, jumping up and down, excited that his parents were home.

Scully smiled. "That sounds like a lot of fun," she told him.

"And no bedtime."

She arched an eyebrow. "Oh really, Nathan? No bedtime at all?"

With a serious glint in his eye, the three-year-old shook his head. "No bed," he repeated solemnly, oblivious to the fact that Elisabeth, standing behind him, was vehemently signaling that it wasn't true.

Mulder tried his best not to laugh, leaving the room with Nathan at his heels, still insisting that he hadn't slept the night before. "Were they well-behaved?" Scully asked, a bit apprehensive about the answer, especially in that she had no idea whether the two toddlers were prepared for a night without either of their parents.

"They were good as gold, as usual," Elisabeth cheerfully replied. "Will got a bit teary-eyed after his bath last night, but Kyle helped calm him down. Today he's been his usual laid back self. And Nathan, of course, thinks Coop is God, so he did exactly what he was told. Kyle was great. He did make one short call call to Dave about a school project, but he didn't try to unground himself. Mulder warned us about that."

Scully finally relaxed with the knowledge that all three boys were well-adjusted in their parents' absence. "Thanks for doing this, especially on what I'm sure was short notice."

"Anytime. We had lots of fun, right Willster?"

Will toddled over to his toys, picking up Doggy in order to chew on his ear. "Dinos," he finally said, his face once again plastered on Elisabeth's knee.

"Did you have fun seeing the dinosaurs yesterday with Daddy?" Scully asked gently, taking a seat on the living room floor.

Will nodded, growing bored with their conversation and running out of the room in search of his father and brother.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Will, buddy, you have to give your mommy a break," pleaded Mulder as he helped the little boy into his pajamas that evening. "You are entirely too stubborn for your good. She missed you and your brothers so much, so why don't we let her read you a bedtime story tonight, okay?"

Mulder sighed as all he received in his response was a skeptical look from his youngest son.

Unconfident in Will's behavior,and not wanting Scully to be completely traumatized by the one-year-old's revenge for her short trip, Mulder suggested that they both read to the kids, piling them, along with their stuffed animals, onto their bed. Both boys chose dinosaur themed books, Nathan gushing over the tyrannosaurus rex, and Will pointing to every stegosaurus picture.

Sure enough, while in his sleepy haze, Will finally gravitated towards his mother, resting his head on her shoulder. "See, he still loves you," Mulder softly remarked, setting down the books on the night table. He turned over to face his partner, kissing the top of Nathan's head as he began to doze off, mumbling he wasn't tired. "And later this week, it will be my turn in the doghouse. So we'll be even."

"I forgot," Scully groaned. The past few weeks had been the longest stretch of time for Mulder not to have traveled, and she had gotten used to him working more or less nine-to-five. He was scheduled to facilitate a two-day training program at the Boston field office, and since it was only an overnight trip, he would be staying with Charlie and Karen. She grudgingly admitted to herself that it was a nice change of pace for them to know in advance for exactly how long he would be away from home, something which rarely happened given the unpredictability of his caseload. "We'll miss you."

"You still have to put up with me for a couple of more days," he lazily pointed out, reaching over to adjust Will's grasp on Doggy.

"And we'll make the most of it," she promised, unable to tear her eyes away from their sleeping boys.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They didn't get a chance to talk until the night before he was supposed to leave. While Will was still too young to understand his father's explanation about his trip, Nathan took the news to heart, and uncharacteristically burst into tears. It took a few moments for his parents to realize that the three-year-old was most upset that Mulder wouldn't be able to take him to school, something he had been trying to do at least twice a week, even though it complicated his morning commute.

Mulder couldn't help but feel guilty, and he gathered Nathan up on his lap, holding him tight. "Next week, okay, monkey? I'll take you to school, and you can show me the fish and your cubby, okay?"

"I don't want you to go," hiccuped Nathan.

"I'll just be gone for tomorrow. And I'll come home early on Thursday, so we can do go on an adventure. Maybe get some ice cream? Just you and me?"

Nathan stopped sniffling, perked up by the idea of doing something fun with his father. He nodded, grabbing hold of the stuffed animals his father handed to him. "And tomorrow night, after mommy reads you a bedtime story, you can talk to George the monkey, okay?"

"And Woofy?"

"Woofy too," Mulder promised. "And did you know that when Mommy was your age, she had a teddy bear that talked to her daddy when he went away for work?"

Scully flinched, causing Mulder to look at her with concern. Nathan didn't notice anything amiss, and happily attempted to stay up for a second bedtime story, during which he fell fast asleep, a stuffed animal clutched in each hand. "He'll be okay," Scully reassured Mulder.

"I know he'll be fine. The real question is whether you will be," Mukder gently said, making sure that she knew he wasn't going to let this one slide. "What was that about? We've told him that story before. What changed?"

Scully chewed on her lip, buying enough time until they got back downstairs before answering. She eyed Mulder's packed luggage standing by the front door, suddenly feeling embarrassed. "I had coffee with Marita on Saturday and she...Mulder, it was like we were living parallel childhoods. She-Dad gave her a teddy bear too. Told her the same things as me, to talk to the bear when she got scared. It's a silly thing to get upset about. It means he was a good parent, I should be grateful for that. But selfishly…both my favorite memories of my dad are different now."

"Both?"

"She was Nemo. They read _20,000_ _Leagues Under the Sea_ together."

"I'm so sorry." The words felt lame, limp in his throat, but it was all he could think to say. He didn't even need to open up his arms for her to fall into him. He knew how much she had cherished her one-on-one time with her father growing up, and how those memories had sustained her through difficult times. Mulder knew all too well that kind of pain.

"I feel selfish," she admitted. "But with three other siblings, getting time alone with him was everything. I felt so special, doing things with him that were different than what he did with the others. Apparently that wasn't the case, and it just hurts."

"He loved you, Scully," Mulder reminded her. "I know you have a lot of questions, but don't forget that."

"But I'll tell you one thing, Mulder. I look at you, and how you spend time with the boys, both together and one-on-one and I admire that. I'm just happy knowing that they would never have to do what we do, and rethink about whether they remembered their childhoods incorrectly."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Although he tried to slip out of bed as quietly as possible when his alarm went off at quarter to five the next morning, Scully still woke up. "I don't think I told you this before," she sleepily said, kissing him goodbye. "And I should have. But you running these meetings, Mulder, it's a good move for you. The director wants you to do well. I know it's not the same rush as investigating a case, but this kind of work has tremendous value. You've always been a good teacher, and I'm glad that you are working with people who appreciate your talent."

He managed not to think too much about Scully's comment until he was settled on the plane. Rolling up his shirt sleeves, he leaned his head against the window, trying to find a comfortable position. While he knew that he should be reviewing his notes for the training, he kept thinking about the road not taken. He wasn't quite sure what he really _wanted _to do, professionally speaking. His profiling work had been born about his quest to find his sister; while he enjoyed solving cases, reuniting families, and making sure that victims at least had some closure, if not justice, he couldn't say for certain that he loved his job. He couldn't imagine not working at the Bureau, knowing that his sister's safety was somehow tied up in his employment.

But if somehow Samantha was not a factor, would he still be an agent? Or would he be putting his psychology training to a different use? Would he be in private practice? Teaching? Writing? If he had felt comfortable leaving the Bureau, would he even still be living in DC, or would did he actually act upon those throwaway comments, and live in a small town in New England? He couldn't allow himself to jump down that rabbit hole; there was too much at stake for him to wallow in what ifs and self doubt.

"Emmy, sit down," he heard someone gently scold. "Emmy, sit, _please_."

When he finally opened his eyes, he found himself face-to-face with a pigtailed blonde girl who looked to be about Will's age. She was standing up backwards on her seat in front of him, gripping the headrest tightly with one hand, and a stuffed elephant on the other.

Mulder blinked a few times before smiling at her, confused as to his surroundings, and thrown off by thinking he heard Emily's name. He gave a little wave to the girl, who tried to wave back, but in doing so, dropped her toy, which fell on the ground by Mulder's feet.

"Here you go," he sweetly said as he picked up her stuffed animal, which looked well-worn and well-loved. "You don't want to lose this guy. I bet he's your best buddy, huh?"

The girl began to cry when she saw Mulder holding her elephant, not quite understanding that he was returning it to her. "It's okay," he reassured her, making sure she had a good handle on it before releasing it from his grasp.

"Say thank you, Emma," he heard the mother say, before turning around to profess her own thanks.

"You're good with kids," the woman sitting next to him remarked.

"Do you have any of your own?"

"Three boys," he proudly smiled. "The youngest is about that age. Goes everywhere with his stuffed puppy. He would be devastated if he lost it."

"So you and your wife trying for a girl next time, I take it?"

Mulder's smile quickly disappeared, and he tried to temper his anger. While he knew that his seat mate probably thought she was asking an innocent question, or was at the very least teasing him, he felt the need to point out the inappropriateness of her remark. But when he opened his mouth to speak, he felt a lump in his throat and just sputtered.

"Oh God," the woman quickly responded, having witnessed Mulder go ashen. "I am so sorry. I—I wasn't thinking."

"You didn't know," he quietly mumbled, wishing that she would just stop talking.

He pretended to sleep for the rest of the short flight, waiting until most of the other passengers cleared out before disembarking from the plane. In front of him were Emma and her mother, who was struggling with her carryon bag and stroller. "Please, let me help you," Mulder said as he pulled her suitcase out of the above seat compartment, insisting on carrying it to the gate.

"Thank you for all of your help," the mother said as she strapped Emma into her stroller. "Traveling gets a bit complicated these days."

"Don't worry about it," Mulder shrugged, waving to the baby before turning to walk to the closest cab stand.

"I couldn't help but overhear," the woman nervously called out before he could take two steps. "I'm sorry about your daughter. Some people just don't realize how insensitive they are when they ask those questions. My son died three years ago, and, well, it's unbelievable what people think is acceptable to say. I—I hope you and your family find some peace."

She weakly smiled before turning in the opposite direction, and Mulder could only think that were some good people out in the world.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Thankfully, Mulder's day improved after his flight. The group of agents at his training were genuinely interested in the subject matter, and had obviously read up on some of the cases he profiled. There were no references to the X-Files, or any hint of Spooky jokes. He was surprised to find himself enjoying the meeting, and even felt badly when he had to decline the group's invitation for post-work drinks, promising to keep his plans open during his next trip.

As he was wrapping up the last agenda item for the day, one of the admins knocked on the conference room door, announcing that he had a visitor. After quickly tying up some loose ends, Mulder wandered into the hallway where he exchanged a quick smile with a tall blonde who was standing in the other end of the room. "Hey Sherman," teased Mulder.

Upon hearing his uncle's voice, Peter turned around and gave him a big smile, running towards him. "Think I can stay at your house tonight?"

"Mom, can he?" Peter pleaded, oblivious to the fact that the adults had pre-planned the trip. "Please? Please? Pretty please?"

"I think we can let him have the guest room," Karen said after a moment, pretending to think long and hard about the decision, which only prompted Peter to beg even more. "But only if he behaves."

"I'll do my best," Mulder promised, holding up his hand as if taking a pledge. "Scout's honor."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He hated seeing the people he most cared about in such pain, especially his seven-year-old nephew. While his sister-in-law had often times drove him crazy, and had pushed his buttons more than once, he still didn't think that she deserved to deal with the fallout from the trial and from her husband's behavior.

A couple of the agents who had sat in on his training and had expressed a vested interest in impressing Mulder, offered to take Peter on a tour of the building, giving him the opportunity to talk to Karen alone. As soon as her son was out of her sight, Karen's entire demeanor changed; Mulder could tell that she was doing everything she could to put on a brave face for her son. "Where's Charlie?" Mulder asked, handing her a cup of stale coffee he found in the break room.

"He's in New York," she explained in a knowing voice, her voice trailing off. Mulder clearly understood the implication of her words: Charlie was with Marita. Although he wanted to learn more, he knew that it wasn't the time or the place for that particular discussion.

"And young Damien?" Mulder joked, prompting Karen to let out a small laugh.

"He really isn't a devil child, Mulder," she chuckled, rolling her eyes. "My _beloved, _spirited little boy, Noah, is at a playdate this afternoon. He missed his friends when he had chicken pox, so we're making up for some lost time."

They sat together in an uncomfortable silence for a moment before Karen continued. "You know, Mulder, I haven't thanked you and Dana enough over the past few weeks. Keeping in touch with Peter has really cheered him up. I told him that Charlie had to go away for work, but he knew that something else was going on. He's been a bit sad recently. I debated whether or not to tell him you were visiting, and I decided to keep it a surprise. I almost caved after Charlie left the other day. I still don't know whether I made the right decision."

"Charlie loves his boys, Karen. Not to mention you," Mulder reminded her. "And we're still on for Thanksgiving, right?"

Karen nodded. "Peter is excited about going to DC," she agreed. "I think my family understands why we need to switch holidays this year. I have to admit, it's tempting to go to my parents in New York, even though I know Charlie probably wouldn't go. They are the polite society types, and if he weren't there, they wouldn't bring up his name unless we did. And Peter likes his cousins well enough, but I just think that we need to be with you and Dana. And your mother—Dana told me she was visiting. By the way, did I tell you that she serves on a couple of charity committees with my aunts? They were very impressed, by the way, and very quickly forgave me for skipping out."

"Impressed?" Mulder scoffed. Upon second thought, he wasn't too surprised, as the _modus operandi _of his mother's society brethren was to only speak highly of people when they were out of the room.

"Your reputation proceeds you, _Fox_," Karen laughed at Mulder's scowl. "And, I hear tell that your mother has been bragging all over town about your promotion. She's incredibly proud of you."

Mulder gave her an intense look. "She is?" he asked in a small voice, almost afraid of Karen's answer.

"Of course she is. Why wouldn't she be?" Karen assured him, just as they became interrupted by Peter's reappearance.

"I got to see a lab, and they showed me some evidence," the seven-year-old breathlessly reported, sporting a genuine grin. "It was the coolest thing ever, Mom! And they said I can come back!"

Mulder was grateful for the interruption; the thought of ruminating for much longer on his complicated relationship with his mother was exhausting. "Hey Sherman, see if your mom would be okay with you and me ditching her for some dinner and ice cream," Mulder playfully asked his nephew, picking the boy's Red Sox cap off his head, and holding it up too high for him to snatch it back.

"Thank you," Karen mouthed as they headed towards the car.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Once he and Peter finally arrived home from their sojourn, Karen shooed her son upstairs to finish up his homework before bedtime. "I haven't seen him this excited in weeks," Karen thanked her brother-in-law as she continued to pack lunches for the next day.

"He's definitely excited about Thanksgiving," agreed Mulder as he poured himself a glass of water. "I told him that I would bring him and Kyle to the Bureau. But there is something I need to tell you."

Karen looked concerned. "What?" she asked.

"He said that he was glad that he would finally be meeting Aunt Marita," Mulder reported. "It sounds like Charlie told him a lot about her."

Karen grimaced, shoving the last of the food into the refrigerator. "If you are asking whether he would actually invite Marita to Thanksgiving dinner at your house without consulting anyone, I would say that he would be crazy. But since I do think he's crazy at the moment, I wouldn't be surprised if it's true."

She motioned for him to follow her into their living room, which was impeccably decorated to complement its cherry wood floors. Karen and Charlie had bought the Victorian house when they first married, restoring it carefully over the years. Although it was tasteful and refined, it retained a homey character, something which Mulder felt his grandfather's house on the Vineyard lacked. Karen was an interior decorator, and thrived on complicated projects, throwing her energy into fixing other people's visual messes. In her home, dirty sneakers, toys, magazines, and art supplies were not at all out of place, just cleverly hidden from view in a play area behind the sectional sofa.

After pouring a finger of scotch for each of them, Karen handed him his drink, sitting across from him on an overstuffed armchair. "I have to be honest," she proceeded. "Charlie told me about your, well, _connection_ to Marita, for lack of a better term. And it's none of my business. I'm not saying that she should be there, but what if Marita were to attend Thanksgiving dinner at your house? Would you be comfortable with that?"

Mulder cringed. "Scully met with her in New York over the weekend, when she was at a conference. They went out for coffee," Mulder explained. "She said it went alright. She's still processing things, you know that it sometimes takes her a while. I don't know whether she would be ready to see her again soon, much less on Thanksgiving."

"To be frank, I have no desire to meet her, and I don't think I would ever be able to like her," Karen shared her honest assessment of the situation. "The whole thing is all too strange, and I don't understand why she needed to bring Charlie to Europe without the common decency of explaining why. He told me the other day he was visiting to go through some of his father's things that Marita found when cleaning her mother's apartment. Meanwhile he has two kids who miss him terribly and I'm starting to run out of explanations for them as to why their father has been practically everywhere else in the world except his own home."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Nathan hadn't forgotten his father's promise to take him out, and had been pestering his mother all morning as to what time his dad would be back home. As soon as he woke up from his afternoon nap , he pressed his face against the window seat in the front of the house, clutching Woofy tightly. Scully was impressed by his ability to sit still for so long; usually after five or six minutes he needed to move around. But he made it for almost twenty before he turned around, calling for his mother. "He'll be home at four," Scully explained, pointing to the clock. "So you have time to watch two Thomas episodes."

Nathan look tempted, and surprisingly chose to remain at his post, getting excited every time he saw a car drive by, letting out a disappointing moan when he realized it didn't carry his father. Finally, he yelled loudly when he spotted his Mulder climb out of a cab and then walk up the front steps. Nathan jumped up and down until the door opened, throwing himself at Mulder. "I missed you too, monkey," Mulder greeted him, abandoning his carryon and briefcase in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. "So, so much."

He picked up Nathan and gave him a bear hug, not wanting to let his son go. He motioned for Scully to hand him Will, and somehow he managed to embrace both boys in his arms while still standing. "What happened?" Scully asked, concerned. Usually this behavior was a result of a difficult case, something that hit too close to home for Mulder, and she was curious as to what could have transpired during a relatively run-of-the-mill training.

"Charlie's in New York," he said quietly, setting the boys down before picking Will back up to toss him in the air, the one-year-old's favorite Daddy-is-back-from-a-trip traditions. Somehow the little boy innately knew that his father would always return and be able to play with him as soon as he got home. Mulder hoped that he would never do anything that would breach that sacred trust.

"Why?" Scully asked, incredulous until she shook her head, suddenly remembering about whom she was speaking. She veered the conversation into a related subject, telling her partner how much Karen and Peter loved seeing him. "I spoke with her earlier today. Karen really appreciates everything you did for Peter," Scully explained, tugging on the flaps of his suit jacket. "He needed you, and you were there for him."

"They are part of my family, Scully. Our family," Mulder explained, playing with her hair, wincing at Nathan's rather loud requests for ice cream. "I know what it's like to be a kid with a dad who isn't around, and I know that Kyle experienced it too. I just can't see another child go through it."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Scully could tell that Mulder was holding something back, but she trusted him to tell her when he was ready. He was anxious to make it up to Nathan for not being able to take him to school that week, and her heart swelled when she saw how excited father and son were for a rare weekday outing. "Since I'm running late, do you think it's okay to take him out for an early dinner before I stuff his face with ice cream?" Mulder asked her quietly after Scully asked Nathan to find his fleece jacket.

She nodded, not wanting to tip Nathan off to the plan. "He would love that," she said, folding her arms across her chest. "Is everything okay, Mulder?"

He nodded. "I'm just processing everything," he promised, bending down to give her a kiss. "We'll talk tonight?"

They stood in the kitchen, forehead-to-forehead. "Of course," she said, still unable to shake the feeling that something serious was bothering Mulder.

After settling Will with his alphabet and animal magnets in the breakfast nook, she opened the refrigerator, debating what to make for dinner. She had narrowed down the choices to her homemade macaroni and cheese or her standby of lemon roasted chicken when she heard Kyle barrel in from the back door. "What do you want for dinner?" she asked. "Chicken or mac—"

"Whatever isn't chicken," Kyle interrupted, guzzling what was left in his gatorade bottle. "Is Dad back?"

"Yup, he took Nathan out," Scully explained, hoping the news wouldn't send Kyle into a foul mood. Although his demeanor towards his siblings had improved over the past couple of weeks, he was still sometimes over sensitive when it came to how his father divided up his one-on-one time with him and his brothers. "So it's you and me and—"

She realized Kyle had wandered off, and when she turned around, she was surprised to see that he was still in the room, having gone straight to Will, who was holding up some magnets. She bit back a smile, pleased to see the two interacting. Will was giving his brother a big, sloppy grin, and Kyle wasn't recoiling from the amount of drool slobbered all over his younger brother's toys.

"Dad will be home soon though, right?" Kyle called out from his seat on the floor.

"He'll be out for another hour-and-a-half-or-so," Scully patiently explained as she began to boil some water.

"I need to talk to you about something," he cryptically continued. "But you need to be there at the same time."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Naturally, Nathan returned home wired, and his parents tried to tire him out by letting him play with Bandit past his bedtime, which also gave Mulder the opportunity to spend some time with Will. Kyle was obediently plowing through his schoolwork without complaint, which tipped off Scully that he was going to ask for something special.

"So what's going on, buddy?" Mulder asked, exhausted form finally coaxing Nathan to lie down in his bed, under the covers, with the lights off.

Kyle set down his pen and pushed his history book to the middle of the kitchen table. "Career day is next week," he explained. "And I kind of told my teacher that you would be able to talk to my class."

Mulder and Scully looked at one another; while they were both relieved that the eleven-year-old didn't have an outlandish request, they were still confused as to his deer-in-headlights demeanor. Scully vaguely remembered a career day mentioned during the back-to-school parents meeting at the beginning of the term, but nothing since then. "What day is it?" Mulder asked, hoping that he wouldn't have to disappoint his son if he ended up having to travel.

"Wednesday afternoon at 2:00," continued Kyle, still looking nervous.

Mulder sat down next to his son. "I would love to talk to your class, and I can hold the time, but you know that I could be called on a case—"

Kyle scrunched his face in frustration. "Dad, stop, please," he interrupted, his voice shaking with trepidation.

"Can you explain what's wrong to me, bud?" Mulder asked. "I don't understand what's going on here."

"I told them that Dana was going to talk about being a pathologist and cutting up dead people," blurted out the eleven-year-old. "I didn't tell you until now because I didn't want to hurt your feelings, Dad." The look of relief on their son's face spoke volumes; it was apparent that this had been weighing heavily on his mind.

"Of course I'll do it," Scully suddenly said, realizing that she needed to be the one to break the silence. "Maybe this weekend you can help me pick some gross cases to talk about?"

Kyle nodded. "Dad, can we take Bandit for a walk?"

"Sure," Mulder agreed, somewhat stunned by the conversation. He waited until Kyle was out of an earshot, gathering Bandit's leash and some doggy bags, before looking at Scully. "It's like you made it. To what, I don't know, but you've crossed some invisible boundary."

Scully blushed. "I wasn't expecting this when he said he needed to talk," she admitted, realizing that Kyle had re-entered the room. "Kyle, thanks for inviting me. It—it means a lot."

Embarrassed, Kyle looked down on the floor, not moving until his father nudged him with his jacket.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"How was your walk?" Scully asked later that evening, after Kyle went up to bed, Bandit bounding up the stairs behind him. Father and son were out longer than usual, and she wasn't sure whether it was a good sign or a harbinger of bad news.

"He apologized to me," Mulder said, still struck by the depth of their conversation. "He really thought this would hurt my feelings. That's why he held off on telling us."

"He idolizes you, Mulder," Scully reminded him, pouring hot water into two mugs. She opened two packets of jasmine white tea, stirring them before handing one to her partner. "You know, he's eleven. He and his friends want to hear about gross body parts, and gory autopsies."

"It's not that," Mulder said quietly. "I'm really proud that he asked you, I just feel badly that he thought I wouldn't take the news well."

Scully understood there was probably a small part of Mulder that _did_ feel badly; it wasn't jealousy, but just another needless reminder that he had missed out on much of his oldest son's life, a feeling that was probably heightened the time he had spent with his nephew the day before.

"And you can be there for the next career day," she reassured him. "But something else is bugging you, Mulder, and I need you to 'fess up. You're broodier than usual."

He pulled her into the living room, which was finally quiet for the first time that day. They sat side-by-side, curling up together on one of the couches, staring at the empty mantle, both of them too exhausted to suggest starting a fire. He quietly filled her in on meeting Marita in New York, and what had transpired with Peter and Karen. He wasn't surprised when she stiffened in response to the possibility that Charlie had invited Marita into their home, for their first holiday as a family, without consulting anyone.

After a few moments of silence, Mulder finally asked, "What are you thinking, partner?"

Scully clutched her mug tightly, tucking herself under Mulder's arm. "I don't know," she slowly said in a way that left Mulder unable to ascertain any hint of her true feelings on the subject. "It's complicated. Peter needs a family Thanksgiving, with his parents, with us. We promised him that."

"We're doing all of this for the kids," agreed Mulder. "I have no question about your commitment to any of them. Hell, Scully, you're the one who has been a consistent presence in their lives. And I know that if it ever comes to it, you would offer to bite the bullet to make sure they have a good holiday. But I'm not asking you about that. I'm asking whether you would feel comfortable with Marita in our home under _any_ circumstance."

Scully moved over to set her tea on the coffee table before draping herself over Mulder's side, lying down between him and the back of the sofa. He shifted positions, resting his head on the arm of the sofa, and tugging Scully upwards so her head fit under the crook of his neck. Since their weekend trip to New York, they had been perfecting the art of the slow burn by holding more and more of their conversations outside the bedroom.

"I actually kind of liked Marita," Scully admitted, drawing patterns on Mulder's chest. "It's still surreal to me. It seems like we've had similar experiences, and when we were talking, it all felt very familiar. But I don't know whether I can really trust her. She probably has the answers to a lot of my questions about my father. But asking her point blank seems—well, it's like I'm using her, when I'm supposed to feel some sort of sisterly kinship, at least on some level. I just can't wrap my head around the dynamic. I don't know where the line in the sand is."

That was his logical Scully, Mulder thought as she laid her head back down, wrapping her arms around his middle. Of course she would try to be objective about something that was just emotionally complicated. "Do you trust her, Mulder?"

"I know she has answers to questions about Samantha," Mulder thoughtfully explained, finally articulating what he had been thinking all week. "And I know that she won't tell me them outright. But I can only hope that it's because she's trying to protect her. It must be a difficult position to be in, when you need to inform people of things they might not necessarily like or can't change. That's how I have to think of it, or else I would go crazy."

Scully thought of the journal she had intermittently kept since her cancer diagnosis. It had been nearly a year since her last entry, when the previous day, while the boys were napping, she opened it, finding that words just poured from her pen. She had drafted three pages of question she wanted to ask Marita. They were a mixture of items about her father's past, her childhood, what had transpired over the previous few months. However, none of them were necessarily appropriate dinner table topics. She couldn't imagine asking Marita whether she too, underwent medical experiments as a child, followed by a plea to pass the potatoes, all while simultaneously encouraging Will to use a fork and Nathan to stop giving his vegetables to Bandit.

But to be fair, she couldn't imagine sitting down anywhere and asking Marita some of these questions. Part of her hesitation was not knowing what would be a sensitive subject to raise, and another part of it was a fear of making it sound like a witness interrogation. Scully always found it difficult to really get to know other people, to get a read on how to best communicate with them; her relationship with Mulder was the rare exception to that rule. Somehow they had understood each other's quirks right away, while still challenging one another to push themselves out of their comfort zones.

Of course, she had friends as a teenager, in college and at med school, some of whom she would have considered to be close friends. Still, even with them, she had never been the type to broadcast her news of a good day or a bad day, to just bring up a random topic for the sake of conversation alone. She of course would answer their questions about classes or boys, but she rarely volunteered that type of information without being prompted.

Melissa had always been able to snuff out a juicy tidbit, having the keen ability to drag information out of her, no matter how reluctant she was to share. During her high school years, her older sister hadn't been around much, but when she moved back to the DC area around the time she graduated from the Academy, they had begun to spend more time with one another. Then of course, there was her old friend Ellen, who, while much less intense than Melissa, also had a similar ability to connect with her. She felt a twinge of guilt, thinking about Ellen. She kept meaning to get back in touch, to let her know about the incredible life changes she had experienced over the past year, but she was unsure of how to explain the appearance of the three children and the news that her partner had a secret son. Was it selfish of her, not to share her joy with Ellen, who had so often fretted about her love life as a career-driven woman? Then again, Ellen hadn't reached out to her over the past year, either.

With the parents and caregivers she met at the park, at story hour, and at Nathan's preschool, she was able to engage in relatively easy conversation about a variety of child-related topics—allergies, rashes, educational toys, healthy snacks. There were a couple of other women she knew, mothers of Kyle's classmates, with whom she had engaged in more adult conversations. She had bonded over step parenting with Stella Pollack, and the sheer ridiculousness over the pretentious school families with Greta Fletcher, whose son Dave was Kyle's closest friend. While she still felt a bit awkward about initiating conversations with them that weren't related to kids and school runs and field trips and group projects, it was refreshing to converse with them without having to worry about explaining the sudden appearance of an instant family in her life.

So she was out of practice in trying to make friends in general, not to mention becoming one with a half-sister who had made a career out of keeping and selling secrets to her partner, and God knows who else. Marita knew everything about her, and she knew relatively little about Marita. And it seemed that everyone now knew more about Marita than her; her partner, her brother, even her seven-year-old nephew. The decks weren't fairly stacked, and she felt unprepared in how to even things out without being accused of sibling rivalry.

She didn't realize that Mulder had been trying to catch her attention until he lightly tickled her belly. "I have a secret, Scully," he murmured, his lilt bordering on being seductive.

"What?" she whispered, intrigued, looking into the darkening green specks of his hazel eyes. He had noticed that she had tensed over the last few minutes, and rushed to reassure her that she had nothing to worry about where he was concerned.

"You're my favorite, and that's never going to change," he said before swallowing her mouth into his, reminding them both that their one night apart had been far too long.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The next evening brought a one-two punch for Scully. Just as she worked up the courage to confront her brother about Thanksgiving, she received a call from Greta Fletcher, with the news that Stella had given birth earlier that day. "Two weeks early but completely healthy. The baby weighed in at eight-and-a-half pounds," Greta chattered, launching into a conversation about a schedule for dropping off some meals and helping the family out with school runs over the next week.

Although she was thrilled for her friend, Scully wasn't expecting the surge of jealously that pumped through her upon initially hearing the news. She had healthy children and a partner who adored her, a cozy house in a safe neighborhood. How much more could she expect? Yes, terrible things had happened to her and Mulder, but they were together now, in a secure, loving relationship, with three children who meant the world to them. The pain of Emily would never fully disappear, but she had at least made an uneasy peace with her death. She was satisfied, _more _than satisfied, with her life. But still, she felt a twinge of sadness in being reminded that not only had she missed the infancies of both Will and Nathan, that she would never experience pregnancy, or bonding with a newborn baby.

Mulder had overheard enough of the conversation to not ask her to repeat anything. Instead he stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her, dropping a kiss on her clavicle. "I love you," he whispered, giving her the headspace he knew she needed in order to process her mixed feelings. He too felt cheated in not having raised Nathan and Will until they were older, with the added regret that he hadn't fully appreciated his time with a newborn Kyle over a decade earlier. He thought back to his recurring dream, the one he knew Kyle had also experienced, knowing that he couldn't bring Scully's hopes up that they too would one day get to bring a baby home from the hospital, with their friends dropping off food and offering to bring the boys to school.

"I love you too," Scully responded, frustrated for feeling sorry for herself. "Can you stay for my call with Charlie?"

Mulder nodded. Scully hoped against hope that Charlie would not pick up his phone, but her younger brother dutifully answered on the third ring. Although he didn't sound thrilled to speak with her, he didn't threaten to hang up on her either.

"Thanksgiving," she nervously prompted. "I know Karen and the kids will be here, but…"

"I talked to Karen yesterday," Charlie groaned impatiently, or rather, was he bored or annoyed? "Yes, I will be there, and yes, I invited Marita."

"Without consulting me or Mulder or even your wife?"

"Danes, she's our sister. Her mother just died. It would be cruel if we didn't invite her," begged Charlie, an accusatory edge in his voice.

"And I'm not trying to be cruel," Scully responded defensively, knowing that Charlie had a point. "I'm not protesting her presence. I'm protesting the fact that you invited her behind my back."

"Keep telling yourself that," Charlie muttered before his voice was cut off by the click of the telephone.

Scully tossed the phone on the counter. "I didn't trust myself to continue that conversation," she sheepishly explained to her partner, who was clearly proud of the fact that she had hung up on her brother.

"Words I never thought I would hear you say," he chuckled before noticing her blank stare. "I can call him back if you want, try and smooth things over."

"You shouldn't have to play peacemaker, Mulder. I don't want to put you in that position," she restlessly argued, nervously tapping her fingers on the marble tabletop.

"And you've done it for me more times than I care to remember," he pointed out. "Your brother probably knows that he's out of line, and you are both so incredibly stubborn that neither of you will cave. We'll just call him back when you're ready."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Why is the dog wearing pajamas?"

Four sets of hazel eyes shot her questioning looks as she entered the living room, tucking her hair behind her ears, as if _she_ were the crazy one. It was Saturday, and Mulder had promised to hold down the fort, encouraging Scully to take a few hours to herself. She took the opportunity to run some errands that always took longer with the kids in two, got a trim, and visited Stella and the baby. While she was prepared to return home to some sort of disaster, she hadn't expected to see Bandit in Wills' Batman pajama set.

"Cuz he has no coat," Nathan helpfully offered before disappearing underneath the coffee table, making a 'choo-choo' sound as he raced his trains before chirping,"And it's cold with no sun."

She looked to Mulder for some guidance, but all she got from her partner was a shrug. "We took a walk to the park and these guys thought that Bandit was too cold," he explained, obviously proud of his sons' thoughtfulness. "So we found something to warm him up when we got home."

The dog didn't appear to be too happy about the situation, but Scully held her tongue, looking around the room to assess any damage. Will was lying down, his head resting on Bandit's side, chewing on a Big Bird stuffed animal, as the puppy protectively curved himself around the little boy, while Kyle was flopped on one of the couches, reading a book and ignoring everyone else.

"The fire is nice," Scully remarked as she sat next to Mulder on the floor, a pile of abandoned Duplo blocks at his feet. It was another reminder that all three boys—and most definitely Nathan at that—had inherited their father's short attention span.

"I thought you would like it," Mulder said as he unceremoniously pulled her up onto his lap, catching her off guard, pleased when she let out a giggle. Will looked up from his toy, pointed towards his mother and laughed.

"Can you give me a big hug, bullfrog?" Scully asked, thinking about how much he had grown over the past few months.

"No," Will responded with a wry look on his face, burying his face in Bandit's fur.

Mulder felt Scully slightly tense, knowing that the rejection she felt was not so much from their impish toddler's antics, but from the fact that she had spent the past couple of hours with an infant, with the knowledge that she would never feel the heavy weight of her own newborn child in her arms.

He pressed a kiss into her hair as he slightly tightened his hold on her. "I want a hug," he whispered in her ear.

As much as she knew Will was going through a phase and that she was being oversensitive, she still felt a little hurt. She laid her head back down on Mulder's chest, closing her eyes as she tried to let go of the sadness and frustration and jealousy that she had tried to temper all afternoon. She hated being this about herself; she truly was happy for her friends. Although she grieved missing out on Nathan and Will's infancies, she didn't think that she would love them any differently if she had experienced their late night feedings and colic and everything else that went along with newborns. She just wished that she and Mulder had been there for them, with them. But there was nothing either of them could do about it, and she needed to let it go before those feelings did any damage.

Even though she only spoke out loud about this once, Mulder understood that it sometimes resurfaced. He let her ride out the jumble of feelings and squeezed her back into reality before she zone out for too long. Just as she was beginning to feel more like herself, she let out an _ooomph. _"Mommy!" Will grinned, pleased at having run across the room and then jump on her without having been noticed.

"Bullfrog, there you are," Scully wiggled a bit to redistribute the toddler's weight on her stomach, excited that he now wanted to play. "Were you good for Daddy today?"

"No, yes, Ban-Ban," the words tumbled out of the nineteen-month-old's mouth as he flashed a devilish grin. She recognized that smile as one Mulder would give when they were in the middle of nowhere, having agreed to turn in for the night after hitting a dead end on a case…right before he would ditch her in some fleabag motel.

"Are you being a silly Willy little monster?" Mulder asked his youngest son, stretching his arms around Scully to tickle him. "Willy silly nilly old bear little monster?"

Scully took in a deep breath, exchanging the faint whiff of baby powder that had clung to her skin from her visit with Stella and baby AJ, with that of the lemon-scented soap on Will's hands, the faint remnants of their spring meadow laundry detergent, and Mulder's musky cologne. Their smells. "It's good to be back home," she mumbled to no one in particular.

Even though there was still dinner to make and other chores to be completed, she decided to let it all go and enjoy the moment, resting her head right below her partner's chin. "Early bedtime tonight," Mulder whispered, his breath hot against her neck. "We did a lot of running around at the park."

"Hmmm," she responded, giving him a small kiss, which immediately led to a longer one. Ever since their night away the previous weekend, every touch between them had been electric. She could get used to this kind of simple Saturday afternoon, she thought; the love her life, her boys, a crackling fire.

They were interrupted by both Nathan and Will, wanting pieces of their parents' attention. After unsuccessfully (and rather unceremoniously) trying to push Will off their parents, Nathan flopped further up on their mother's chest, almost cutting off her circulation.

"Calm down, Nathan," Mulder gently told him.

"I am," he said in a sing-song voice, kicking his feet, completely unaware that by doing so, he was precariously close to clobbering his father on the nose.

"Me!" Will chimed in, drooling onto his mother's sweater, extending his pudgy hand to grab his father's shoulder.

Mulder looked over to Kyle, worried whether he was feeling left out of the impromptu family pig pile. He frowned when he realized that his oldest son was no longer on the sofa, and attempted to prop himself up into a seated position. He was just about to call out his name when he felt a tremendous amount of pressure and then a fierce pain burning up his leg.

"Owww!" he yelped, causing all three boys, as well as Scully, to giggle. Kyle had thrown himself across his father's legs, causing his younger brothers to roll towards him. To Mulder's delight, Kyle took it all in stride, helping the smaller ones regain their balance. Bandit caught a whiff of their fun and bounded over to them, nuzzling Kyle and Nathan and letting out a small bark.

She could barely breathe, but she didn't want the magic to end, not quite yet. It was a very small price to play for all of the bounty she had received over the past year.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Getting the dog out of the pajamas turned out to be more complicated than putting them on, Mulder thought. He and Kyle finally managed to pull them off, leading the dog to curl up as close to the fireplace as he could. Mulder wandered into the kitchen, intending to put the clothes in the laundry room, but Scully pointed to the trash barrel instead. "Don't even think about arguing," she good-naturedly smirked.

"But what if Bandit wants to wear them again?" Mulder asked.

They both were on the verge of laughter, thinking about the absurdity of the moment. Mulder walked towards her, pinning her by the sink, and just as he was about to bend down to kiss her, the phone rang. "Judging by the timing, it's probably your brother," he grumbled, reaching for the cordless handset. The look he gave her after answering the phone told her that his prediction was correct.

"I'm not backing down," Charlie told his sister.

Scully sighed. "Charlie, I'm not asking you to," she explained. "I'm just wondering why you didn't ask me in the first place."

"It's because Marita feels guilty," he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "She feels guilty."

"About what?" Scully asked.

"She's the reason why you underwent those medical tests when we were kids," Charlie admitted. "You saved her life."


	45. Chapter Forty Four

N/A: Sorry for the long wait. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

It had been a particularly lazy Sunday morning; while the boys slept in longer than usual, their parents took advantage of some unexpected alone time. As a treat, Scully made chocolate chip Mickey Mouse pancakes for breakfast, biting back a smile when everyone entered the kitchen, wide-eyed with excitement upon seeing them. She was intent on not letting her brother's phone call the evening before mar what had otherwise been a nice weekend. As she had told Mulder, she could hardly blame Marita for what had happened when they were both children. Given her own difficulty in speaking about what had happened to her, she had to extend that same courtesy to the other woman. But to her brother, Scully had been much less diplomatic, telling him off about his behavior. After overhearing Scully's end of that conversation, Mulder doubted that his brother-in-law would be calling them any time soon.

"I wonder what put you in such a good mood this morning," Mulder teased, sneaking up behind her. "For you to do all of this." She let out a surprised laugh when he unexpectedly burrowed his face in her neck, giving it a firm bite.

"You act as though I never let you eat anything fun," she half-heartedly protested while she carefully slid one onto everyone's plate. While Nathan pondered over which part to eat first, Will immediately pushed away his Kermit fork and grabbed his food with both hands, giggling as he squeezed his fists and chocolate melted onto his hands.

"Will," Scully sighed, dredging up the energy to once again remind him to use his utensils. Catching his partner wince, Mulder quickly promised to take care of cleanup duty.

"Can we go?" Nathan asked suspiciously as he dove into his second pancake.

"A few more hours, bud," Mulder answered, leaning over to point out the kitchen clock. "The birthday party is at 11:30. And we're still at 9."

"Don't forget," he warned his father before going back to eating.

Scully and Mulder exchanged bemused looks. Nathan had been invited to a friend's birthday party at an indoor play area, which he had been looking forward to all weekend. "I promise I won't forget," Mulder solemnly promised his son, tracing a cross over his heart.

"Fine," Nathan grumbled, his hazel eyes piercing those of his father, turning his attention back to his food.

This time, Mulder was unable to keep back his laughter, spraying coffee across the table through his nose, which prompted the three-year-old to ask how he accomplished that feat. "I can do it!" Kyle interrupted, repeating his father's performance with orange juice.

Scully groaned, once again being put in the position of cutting off their fun. As she stood up to find a roll of paper towels, she said,"Stop! Kyle, knock it off...Nathan don't you dare even think about trying this...Nathan, if you want to go to Ned's birthday party you are going to swallow that orange juice _now_…Nathan."

Nathan finally froze when he realized his mother meant business. He panicked, his hazel eyes wide, unsure of whether to obey his mother or to copy his father and brother as he nervously looked around the room. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when he finally swallowed his drink, beaming when his mother thanked him and kissed the top of his head. "I'm good," he remarked, reaching for another pancake.

Mulder sat back, taking in the scene. As always, he was impressed by his partner's parenting skills; although she had spoken to Nathan firmly, her voice was still kind. He knew that he had tried her patience more times than he could count, and a part of him wanted to take his son aside and let him know that he chose the wisest course of action. But his thoughts were interrupted by a sticky hand tapping his shoulder.

He looked over to see Will proudly staring at him, his cheeks chubbier than usual. "Oh no," Mulder muttered, knowing it was too late. "Will, don't—"

At that same split second, Scully turned to her right to see what was happening, and suddenly felt her face and neck became sticky and wet. Very wet.

"They've officially outnumbered us," remarked Mulder, handing her a napkin.

"Will needs a timeout," Nathan reminded him. "I was good. Daddy, I was _good_."

"No. He's too little. Being in a highchair is the same thing as being in timeout," Kyle added.

Within seconds, all three kids were either crying or yelling, and given the fact that they had only been up for an hour, Mulder knew they needed to act fast. He and Scully exchanged the briefest of glances before reaching a silent agreement on their next step.

"Nathan, you and I are going to take Bandit for a walk, okay?" Scully interrupted her son's diatribe, getting up to pour her coffee in a travel mug. Separating the boys was always the quickest course of action, especially when Nathan became fixated on something that one of his brothers did and or said. She wasn't sure whether it was because he was three, or if it was because he was the middle child, but where Nathan was concerned, there was always someone who had be blamed, a stage of which his mother hoped he would quickly outgrow. Nathan's world was divided by the good guys and the bad guys, and there was never anyone who stood on middle ground. In his eyes, his father was the biggest good guy of them all, charged with fighting the bad guys, and he was always looking for the constant reassurance that his behavior emulated that of Mulder.

Little did he know that real life was much more complicated than good versus evil.

XXXXXXX

Scully almost felt bad for Mulder, who looked a bit unenthusiastic about spending the next two-and-a-half hours with a bunch of pre-schoolers and parents he barely knew, although she suspected that the goodbye kiss she gave him boosted his spirits a bit. Between dealing with Will at breakfast and shuttling Nathan to his birthday party, he had certainly drawn the short end of the parenting stick that day. She also knew that Mulder was worried about her, and wanted to put his fears at ease—that she really was fine, having decided not to worry about Marita and Charlie until she saw them the next the week.

After putting Will down for his nap, Scully made some frozen hot chocolate for her and Kyle, and they sat down together in the living room, which was warm from the fire she had built that morning. They sat on opposite sides of the coffee table, which was filled with different files and a few legal pads. "So here are some cases I found notes on," Scully explained. "I'm assuming that your teacher won't let me get too gory with the details, so I tried to find ones that were interesting without being too disgusting."

"You did an autopsy on an elephant?" Kyle asked, amazed, after she handed him the first folder. "But vet school and med school are different things, right?"

"There were some extenuating circumstances, but yes, usually only vets handle animal deaths," she answered, not having expected her stepson's instant fascination with that particular case file.

As they conversed, Scully grew impressed by the questions that Kyle was asking, but after about twenty minutes, the discussion seemed a bit too familiar. Despite his protest to the contrary, she knew Mulder wanted to be more involved with the career day presentation than he had originally let on; although she didn't doubt her partner's sincerity when he told her that he was touched that Kyle had asked her to speak and not him, she knew he still felt a bit wistful. "And did your dad also tell you to ask me about the sheriff's teeth?" she amusedly asked.

"Yes, but he said you would say that they were completely normal, so not to bother—oh," Kyle quickly responded before realizing he fell right into her trap. He immediately looked down at Bandit, unable to meet her eye.

"That's one he'll never let go of," she sighed, shaking her head, knowing that she and her partner would never reach an agreement on that particular topic. "So what cases did he suggest that I talk about?"

They were all inappropriate for a sixth grade audience, she thought, but she appreciated the walk down memory lane just the same. She got the feeling from her stepson that he knew her chances of discussing most of these cases was slim, but he still wanted the opportunity to get a glimpse into the life of a field agent. Mulder wasn't able to say much about the cases he was currently working, so his case-related conversations were more times than not about the X-Files. In answering Kyle's questions, she had the chance to remember that she and Mulder occasionally had fun out on the road. In fact, she was having a hard time controlling her laughter when relating a story that she hadn't heard the back door open. "Hey Dad!" Kyle called out, frowning when he saw his father put a finger to his lips as he crept up the stairs, holding a sleeping Nathan in his arms.

"Do you want me to make you something?" Scully asked Mulder a few minutes later, as he crawled onto the couch behind her.

"No," he groaned. "Nathan's going to be napping pretty hard this afternoon. There was a bouncy house and a trampoline and ball pit and I was getting seasick looking at those kids jump into oblivion. It was so loud, I couldn't wait to get out of there."

"Did anyone puke?" Kyle asked.

"Yes," Mulder responded, his eyes still closed. "It was terrible. Scully, did you have any idea that our Nathan is the proud defender of some pigtailed little girl?"

"Who?" Scully asked, intrigued. Although he had only been in preschool for a few weeks, he had quickly made friends. According to the other pre-school parents, he was absolutely charming. While she was proud of her son, and his friendly nature, Scully was a bit hesitant to think of the trouble that a smooth, sweet-talking teenager could easily get both into…and out of.

"Names? Scully, they all sound the same and look the same. Her mom works at Treasury," Mulder couldn't remember the woman's name despite talking to her for half-an-hour. "Carly, maybe?"

"Charlotte?" Scully asked. "Her cubby is next to Nathan's. The mom is Cynthia."

"He was the model child, Scully," Mulder explained, still utterly baffled by the difference in his son's behavior outside the confines of their home. "I don't understand it. He didn't interrupt any of the other kids, he didn't start any arguments. Apparently he only fights with his brothers. Cindy—Cynthia-whatever-the-hell-her-name-is was going on and on about how Charlotte never shuts up about Nathan."

"Maybe an alien replaces him at school," Kyle shrugged.

"Don't joke about that," Mulder flatly told his oldest son, closing his eyes. "So did you pick any of the good ones?"

XXXXXXXXX

"I thought you said this was a clear cut case," Scully remarked, hoping she didn't sound too whiny. It was now a week before Thanksgiving and she needed his help in getting everything in order for their guests. Since their move to Georgetown, Mulder had been promising to set up the bed and furniture in the third floor guestroom, and now, with five days to go before everyone arrived, the room was still a glorified storage closet. He had been sent out-of-town two days earlier, expecting to be back home before the weekend.

He let out an exasperated sigh. "It just isn't working out that way," mumbled Mulder. "I can't talk now, but I'll call you later."

She frowned as she set the phone down on the counter. Something didn't sound quite right with her partner, and she was unsure of what to do next.

Frustrated, she turned her attention to putting together snacks and lunch for Kyle and Nathan to take to school the next morning. As she cut up carrot sticks and celery, she tried to think about why this particular out-of-town trip had hit her so hard. Perhaps she and the boys had been spoiled by the fact he hadn't traveled for a case in nearly three weeks; in fact, his only trip had been that pre-planned overnight meeting in Boston.

She knew that they were fortunate in that Mulder's field work rarely put him in the line of duty; instead, he was usually calling the shots from whatever makeshift command post the Bureau had assembled. Thinking back to when they had met, the Mulder with whom she had been partnered would never have wanted his current job; in fact, that circa-1993 Mulder would have done everything in his power to piss off the right people so he would never be selected as the agent-in-charge.

A part of her still wondered whether Mulder really enjoyed his current line of work. She had tried asking him whether he was happy in his new position, but he always brushed her off, expertly thwarting her attempt of holding that particular conversation. She knew he was proud of his promotion and his professional accomplishments, and that he wanted to be a good role model for his sons. But if she had to guess, she would suspect that his heart was no longer into it.

She suspected that if she was more certain of Mulder's enthusiasm for his work, she would be more accepting of the sacrifices it entailed: the unexpected travel and the late nights, whether they be at the Hoover Building or in his home office, the long stretches of time on single parent duty. A part of her wondered whether they would even be able to cope when she returned to work in January, even with Skinner's guarantee that her forensic work would be limited to the DC metro area.

But she was getting ahead of herself: she needed to worry about getting through that evening first, and then the next day, and so on. Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard a tremendous clatter from the direction of the staircase. "Is Dad going to be home in time for my game on Saturday morning?" Kyle asked, barreling into the kitchen with Bandit at his heels.

She hated telling him no, but she knew it wouldn't be fair to bring his hopes up. "It doesn't look like it. But he'll know more tomorrow," she answered, hoping that her honesty wouldn't hurt the boy too much.

The disappointment on the boy's face was palpable, especially when saw the immediate change in Bandit's posturing, mimicking the stance of his boy. "I'm sorry," she continued with a grimace. "It sucks."

"But he doesn't have to work next week, right?"

"He's only supposed to be in the office on Monday," Scully explained, continuing to choose her words carefully, not wanting her stepson's optimism to fade She waited for Kyle's next question, but her non-answer seemed to have satisfied his curiosity, as he instead gave her a big smile before settling down on the kitchen table to continue with his homework.

She hoped Mulder wouldn't make a liar out of her.

XXXXXXXXXX

Gone were the days when Will would sit quietly with his blocks while she attended to a quick task. As soon as her back was turned, he was on the move, always letting out a tell-tale giggle that clearly meant _trouble_. In the time it took her to leave the room to refill his tumbler with more juice, he had scaled the coffee table and taken the batteries out of the television remote. When she could only find two out of the three Duracells, momentary panic set in as she asked Will whether he ate anything.

"Yes, no, yes no," he babbled as he turned his attention back to his toys. Luckily, she found the lost items underneath the couch, refusing to think of the possibility that the little boy had in fact ingested something inedible.

She strategized her best course of action as taking Will to the park to burn off some energy, despite the temperature; if both boys went down for long naps that afternoon, she might be able to make some significant headway in cleaning up the guest room. She bundled Will up, warning him not to take off his Tigger hat before heading to the playground. At the last moment, she decided to bring Bandit along as well, knowing that he wouldn't get much exercise that night, as there wouldn't be an Elisabeth or a Hannah on hand to help out by staying with the toddlers.

Will chased Bandit around for a bit before pointing to the swing set. Scully tied up Bandit's leash to the fence, hoping that no one would give her a hard time about an unattended dog. Luckily there were only a couple of other families in the park, no one batting an eye at the puppy.

"Okay, bullfrog, we have to go pick up Nathan soon. Five more minutes," Scully said to Will fifteen minutes later, knowing that despite her warning that they needed to pack up, he would still cry in surprise when she would finally lift him out of the bucket swing.

As usual, Will put up a bit of a fight, but once he was distracted with a snack and some attention from Bandit, he transformed into his laid-back self. "Bandit, you can't go to school, sorry buddy," Scully explained to the dog once they arrived home. Both the puppy and Will looked utterly baffled as to why they had entered the house, just for Scully to take the baby back outside again.

Luckily, Will loved car rides, and as soon as he was buckled in and listening to a Sesame Street CD, he was happy as a clam, no longer upset from having to leave the dog at home. Once he realized they were entering the nursery school parking lot, he clapped, knowing that he would be able to play one of his favorite games: spotting his brother exit the building. Having spied Nathan, he grinned and pointed to his older brother before running towards him; once the boys met, they raced back towards their mother. Nathan gave his mother a hug and begin to launch into a long winded description of his morning, shoving his artwork into her arms. Although their routine was only a few weeks old, Scully had grown to love it.

"Nathan had another great day today," his teacher warmly told Scully. "Charlotte had a bit of a spill this morning, and he really cheered her up."

"I'm a good guy," interrupted Nathan. "Just like Daddy."

Scully knew that Nathan was referring to the fact that Mulder was away from home, chasing the bad guys; it was sweet to her to see see how much he looked up to his father.

"Yes you are," she agreed softly before thanking the teacher and leading the boys to the car.

XXXXXXXXXX

Nathan usually napped longer during the afternoons following preschool, so Scully was hoping that both boys would sleep solidly while she got the house in order for their guests. Twenty minutes after she finally got Nathan settled into bed, the phone rang; considering the circumstances, she expected that it would be a harbinger of bad news.

"Doctor Mulder?" the voice on the other line asked. "Dana Mulder?"

She was momentarily confused, still unused to the moniker. "Yes," she responded tentatively, hoping that no one was hurt.

"This is Barbara Gallin from the Westminster School. I know it's short notice, but I need to see you and your husband in my office immediately. I tried calling his work number, but I was told he was unavailable," Ms. Gallin explained in a no-nonsense-tolerated tone.

Anxiety rose through Scully. "Is everything alright?"

"I'm not in the habit of calling parents when things are _alright_, Dr. Mulder," Ms. Gallin snapped. "I need you and your husband to get here as soon as possible."

"Is Kyle hurt?" Scully interrupted, her tolerance for Ms. Gallin quickly wearing thin. She had only met the woman a couple of times, but found her to be insufferable.

"He is not hurt, and it's not a behavioral issue. I just need you two in my office."

"I'll be there shortly," Scully promised with a sigh, not bothering to tell the administrator that Mulder was out-of-town; judging by the woman's demeanor, it wouldn't be worth the argument.

Why today of all days, she thought. Hannah, was gone, spending the next ten days with her family for the holiday, while Elisabeth had an exam that afternoon. She briefly thought of calling the Gunmen, but knew that even if they were able to do just drop everything to babysit, it would still take them a bit of time to just get to Georgetown.

She had no choice but to bring two sleeping children with her.

Somehow, Will slept through it all: being taken out of his crib, the walk downstairs, getting strapped into his carseat, the drive. Nathan normally had a hard time sleeping in the car, but school had exhausted him enough that he didn't wake up until he was getting strapped into the stroller once they arrived, falling right back asleep after protesting he wasn't tired.

Navigating the double stroller through the parking lot and into the building was a bit tedious, and all Scully could do was muster a smile for the school secretary, who looked a bit bewildered at the sight of two toddlers. After introducing herself—with the Mulder last name—Scully was ushered into an ornate office. Juxtaposed with the rich mahogany and dark leather decor was a very small, very thin woman with grey hair scraped back into an impossibly tight bun. She wore her eye glasses with a chain around her neck, and Scully felt herself step back as Ms. Gallin stood up, her palms pressed on her desk. The older woman's glasses slipped down her nose as she eyed Scully suspiciously.

"Dr. Mulder?" the woman rasped, making it clear to Scully that she had broken some sort of unspoken protocol that small children were not allowed into her inner sanctum.

"Yes," Scully dared to smile, stepping forward to shake the woman's hand before pushing the stroller into the far end of the room.

"Nanny problems, I take it?"

"Something like that," she murmured, semi-apologetically. "They are heavy sleepers, so this shouldn't be a problem."

"And your husband is where?"

"He's in Ohio at the moment," Scully explained, sinking down into one of the two chairs opposite Ms. Gallin's desk. She was clearly skating on thin ice where the administrator was concerned.

"Hmpf," the woman grumbled, returning to her seat. "Well, you will have to do. The school has received several calls, from a woman, about the enrollment status of your son—stepson, rather, in the past two days. We've had our IT people try to trace them, and they've been coming from a variety of pay phones in the metropolitan area. Of course, we never divulged any information about whether he is a student here. That would be a breach of our procedure."

"Of course not," Scully agreed, picking up the paper that Ms. Gallin slid into her direction. "What questions were asked?"

"A couple of times the caller flat-out asked whether he was a student; but this morning, we received a call asking what time classes end on Tuesday for the holiday break. We only saw the connection between these calls when our IT manager flagged it as coming from one of the pay phones used yesterday."

"And you're sure it is the same woman who has placed all of these calls?"

"Reasonably sure," she answered curtly. "We don't get too many calls from pay phones in Chevy Chase, Dr. Mulder."

A chill ran up Scully's spine. While the very thought of Diana covertly making contact with Kyle angered her, generally speaking, the notion of her doing so in this way made her sick. Why now? Was the impending holiday season triggering an overwhelming sentimentality that had previously been missing? Was it her plan all along to only be away for a few months? Was she having second thoughts? Or was she jumping to conclusions in thinking that it was her partner's ex-wife who had been placing the calls? Was it a warning of sorts from the Consortium? Or was it someone left high and dry after one of Mulder's investigations? Had someone placed similar calls with Nathan's preschool? The thoughts engulfed her as she continued to converse with the headmaster, throwing her energy into maintaining her outward stoicism.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

As much as she hated the snobbery that poured out of every fiber of Ms. Gallin's being, Scully had to give credit where credit was due: the administrator presented a thorough plan that reassured Scully of her stepson's safety while on school grounds. However, the flipside—that these situations were common enough for the school to execute a standard operating procedure, as it was clear that they had previously confronted this type of situation before, was not lost on her. As she hurried down the corridor leading back to the parking lot, she thought of all the students in the classrooms she was passing, and how complicated home situations could be for innocent children caught in the crossfire of their parents.

"Dana, is everything okay?"

Scully whipped around, surprised to come face-to-face with Kyle, who wore a worried look."Did you just sneak out of class?" Scully asked, keeping her voice low. She hoped that the boys would continue to sleep just long enough for her to reassure their older brother without causing a scene.

"Yeah," he shrugged. "Dave saw you in Ms. Gallin's office."

Of course he did, she thought. Kyle's best friend, Dave, was always the first to know anything; it would be utterly annoying if he wasn't such a genuinely nice kid. "I had to sign some paperwork that your Dad forgot to mail in," she smoothly explained. "Ms. Gallin didn't think that naptime was a good enough excuse to push it off until Monday."

"Did they get really loud?" Kyle asked, a smile tugging at his lips as he thought about his trouble-making brothers wreaking havoc in the prissy headmaster's office.

"Will cried a bit when he dropped Doggy, and she didn't seem to be too impressed," shared Scully. "But I have to get these guys home before they really do cause some damage. And you better get back to class."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Both boys woke up when she was strapping them into their carseats, and she cursed herself for not having refilled the snacks she normally had stashed in the diaper bag. She managed to find a plastic baggy with a handful of stale saltines, which they ate quickly, immediately crying out for more. "I'm sorry guys," she apologized, cringing at the amount of noise emanating from the backseat. She put on the Sesame Street CD, hoping that would help calm them down, and then, despite the relatively noisy atmosphere, she called Mulder.

Straight to voicemail.

_The voicemail box for this customer is full_.

"Fuck!" she swore, immediately dialing Addison's number. Luckily Mulder's assistant agent-in-charge was responsible enough to keep his phone with him at all times, along with a backup battery. She didn't think that there had ever been a time when he hadn't immediately answered his phone.

"Please, I need to talk to Mulder," she explained, bypassing any conventional phone greeting. "It's urgent."

There was a pause, and a crackle on the line. "Addison?" she repeated.

"Daddy, I want ice cream!" she heard a young voice call out in the background.

"You aren't in Ohio?" she asked, her heart dropping.

"No, it's my weekend with the girls," he stammered. "I flew home yesterday."

"Never mind. I'm so sorry I interrupted," Scully apologized, throwing her phone on the passenger side seat of the car.

She pulled out of the parking lot, lost in thought. Addison had covered for Mulder on the road a few times over the past few weeks, and she wouldn't be surprised if Mulder had sent him home from the case early, especially in that he had limited visitation with his daughters. She tried to think whether Mulder had even told her the name of the hotel where he was staying, hoping that his assistant would have that information.

But by the time she got home and got the kids settled with a snack, it was just after 4:00, and her call went straight to voicemail. "Goddamnit!" she whispered, instead dialing Preston's number.

"At least someone answers their phone," she said by way of greeting, before filling him in on what transpired that afternoon.

She wasn't sure whether to be relieved or frustrated when Preston assured her that on his end, there had been no sign of Diana; since her disappearance, he and the Gunmen had been carefully monitoring airline manifests and her financial accounts, and there had been no activity. That provided little comfort, however, in that practically speaking, Diana certainly had the means and motive to travel unnoticed.

"Mommy," Nathan whined, leaning his head against her leg. "Will took all my toys."

"All of them?" Scully asked in mock disbelief. "Are you exaggerating again, Nathan?"

"No," he protested, stamping his foot. "I'm not."

"Well I'm sure if you ask Will, he'll give you back your toys," she tiredly explained, knowing full well that the boys would probably be cranky for the rest of their day due to their interrupted naps. "And I just need to make one quick phone call, and then I'll be able to play with both of you."

After once again unsuccessfully dialing Mulder, she punched in the number for Skinner's office, hoping against hope that he would be working late on a Friday. Thankfully, he answered. "Sir? Would you be able to find out where Mulder is staying? I'm having trouble getting a hold of him…Sir?"

"I can try. Kimberly might know, but she left for the weekend," Skinner requested gruffly.

At the same time Skinner was speaking, Will let out a tremendous shriek. "Mine!" Nathan yelled.

"Thanks for your help," Scully weakly responded, setting the phone down to settle the disagreement between the toddlers, not confident that Skinner would be able to find out the information she needed. While an adept supervisor, he was notoriously unschooled in the workings of the Bureau mainframe. While he could get the Director to return a call within five minutes, or push through an outlandish budgetary approval, he could barely manage checking his email without Kimberly standing over his shoulder.

"I had it first!" Nathan sobbed, pointing to the Percy train that Will was now clutching.

"Will, Nathan was playing with it," Scully said, trying to wrestle the green train from his grasp. "Why don't you play with this truck, so you and Nathan can race them? And can you say sorry to Nathan?"

She quickly distracted Will, swapping the train for the truck, the boy saying something that sounded enough like an apology to satisfy his mother. After a moment of crocodile tears, Will settled down with his new toy; however, Nathan continued to cry.

"Nathan, you have your train back, what's the matter, monkey?" Scully asked, brushing back his dark curls.

"Not fair!" he seethed, showing a strong resemblance to Mulder after a meeting with Kersh.

"I know it's not fair," Scully explained gently. Before Nathan started preschool, the boys would squabble and then forget about their fight rather quickly. But now that Nathan was in school, and was therefore interacting with more kids his own age in an environment where rules were constantly reinforced, he had lost all patience with the idea that his younger brother was sometimes too little to understand the intricacies of sharing. "But he gave it back. We have to help teach him, Nathan."

"No."

Sometimes there was no winning with a three-year-old, Scully thought as Nathan crawled onto her lap, especially a cranky one. They had it easy over the summer, she surmised. At that time, the age difference between the toddlers was less apparent, but now they were hitting developmental milestones that sometimes put them into totally different worlds. "I want Daddy," Nathan sniffled.

"I know, sweetie," Scully told him, leaning her back against the couch, Nathan still curled up against her. "Me too."

XXXXXXX

Mulder knew he was breaking practically every promise he had made to himself and to his family by staying in Ohio.

But he wouldn't be able to live with himself otherwise.

He sat in the diner, looking into the sad brown eyes of a fourteen-year-old boy, whose sister had been abducted earlier that week. Miles Tamner had been playing video games in the den, while his sister had been dragged out of her bedroom window down the hall. The volume on the television had been too loud for him to hear the struggle at first, and by the time he realized Lindsay had been screaming, he only caught a glimpse of the kidnapper.

Unfortunately, the local police department had made Miles the focus of its investigation during those crucial forty-eight hours following the abduction. Miles, already burdened by an unbelievable amount of guilt, was now too scared to speak to anyone. But Mulder was making it his mission to help the child rebuild his trust in himself, and in others, even though the case had ended the morning before, when Lindsay was found, safe and sound. The case was practically open-and-shut; Mulder's profile had narrowed the list of suspects to three people, and within twenty-four-hours, the team had reunited the seven-year-old girl with her family. By all accounts, Mulder should have left the morning before, along with Addison and another agent. He should have been spending his Friday night with Scully and his own boys, reading Nathan an extra bedtime story, building towers of blocks for Will to knock down, watching a cheesy horror movie with Kyle, and then locking the bedroom door before crawling into bed with his partner.

Instead, he was sitting in a greasy diner with a teenager who refused to look at him, much less talk with him. And all because Mulder remembered being that boy all those years ago.

Scully would understand, he reasoned. But the physical act of stating why he was in the outskirts of Cleveland would be too difficult for him to communicate. Talking about the circumstances surrounding Samantha's abduction was different than saying _when Samantha was abducted_. So instead, he shut off his phone to prolong the inevitable, a decision he knew would kick him in the ass later. After all, he rationalized, his boys had a parent at home who could take care of them; in front of him was a child who felt completely divorced from his family. Even though Miles' parents didn't believe the accusations of the local police, he still felt as though everyone had blamed him for what happened with his sister. It wouldn't be right to leave him hanging in the wind. Miles still needed to talk to the DA's office, would need to testify in front of the grand jury and then again at trial. Time was of the essence; his story would be less credible at trial if word got out he refused to speak with the police during the initial investigation.

"When I say I know what you're going through Miles, it's because I do," Mulder began, hoping that he would finally be able to get through to the boy. "When I was twelve and my sister was eight…"

XXXXXXX

She didn't know how it happened, but she had somehow slept through Mulder's phone call that night. She didn't have the energy to get upset, or to even curse; after all, she had too much to do. She packed up the diaper bag, did some laundry, got the kids up and prodded them through breakfast and then ushered them into the car to get to the basketball game. Thankfully, Nathan and Will were remarkably well behaved, and she only needed to take them out of the gymnasium a couple of times, both of them demonstrating a remarkable attention span, most likely due to the fact that she had brought some toys they hadn't played with in quite some time.

"You did great," Scully congratulated Kyle after the game ended. "Twenty five points? You broke your record!"

He was beaming ear-to-ear. "You were awesome," she continued, relieved not only that he played well, but that there had been no sign of Diana. "Your dad will have been sad to have missed this. Why don't you see if Dave wants to come over for some pizza?"

Kyle generally spent time after Saturday games with his best friend, the two families swapping hosting duties. Although it was technically the Fletcher's turn, Scully wanted to keep Kyle close to home. Luckily, Greta was thrilled to have the extra time to prepare for Thanksgiving, although she did give her friend a supportive smile, saying, "It's always better to keep busy when they are traveling. Just don't get sucked into being the Cub Scout den mother. Take it from me. Terrible experience; it's been three years, and I'm still recuperating." Scully was grateful for the understated way in which Greta acknowledged her situation.

Having house full of noisy boys was an easy way for Scully to forget her frustration with not being able to get a hold of Mulder. After getting back downstairs from putting Nathan and Will down for their naps, Scully was surprised to be pulled into the living room; normally after lunch, the older boys would be engrossed in video games or movies. "Can you tell us about the cases you didn't talk about on career day?" Kyle begged.

Scully knew that Greta wouldn't have any issues with her son hearing some of the gorier details, and when she arrived to pick up Dave, Scully found herself repeating some of the stories. The two woman were laughing so hard that Scully didn't hear the phone when it first rang. "Let me get it," she called out, but Kyle had already picked up. "Hi Dad!" his face instantly brightened. "I was the highest scorer at the game and we won! No, she's talking with Dave's mom. Okay. Bye."

Greta rolled her eyes when she saw a flicker of annoyance cross Scully's face. "Todd does the same thing. He calls home and at the same time, purposely avoids talking to me," she confided once the boys were out of an earshot. "Is everything okay, Dana?"

Scully took a sip of coffee and nodded. "Sometimes, when things get hectic, and I'm frustrated, I just get it in my head that he's choosing to be out there, and I know that's really not how he operates. He went into this thinking it would be a quick case, and it's just not. It happens all the time, it's the nature of the work. There's nothing he or I can do about it."

XXXXXXX

She thought she heard Mulder enter the bedroom, but was unsure of whether she was dreaming until he brushed his lips on her forehead. "Mulder?" she sleepily asked, opening her eyes, only to stare into darkness. She took a deep breath, confused. Once she heard the water in the bathroom, she had her answer.

"But that's my job," Mulder wryly remarked as she tugged off her tank top, joining him in the shower.

She pulled him into a kiss. "I can think of another couple of jobs for you," she murmured, clasping her arms around his neck.

"It's good to be home," he remarked, walking her against the tiled wall. "I missed you."

She took the bar of soap from his hands, lazily sudsing his shoulders. "Did you find the little girl?" she asked.

"She's safe and sound," he nodded.

"Thank God," murmured Scully. "I was worried for you, with your team being brought in so late. And to be found after a week—was she okay?"

Mulder froze, overly conscious of his partner's lathering moving lower and lower. "Scully, I have to tell you something," he confessed, biting his bottom lip, wresting the soap from her grasp, taking in her blazing blue eyes. The calm before the storm, he thought with some regret, knowing he only had himself to blame. "Scully, we found her Wednesday night."

Before he realized it, he was standing alone in the shower, the water suddenly grown very cold.

XXXXXXX

He hadn't seen Scully that angry—that angry at _him_, rather—in quite some time. By the time he found clean boxers and a t-shirt, she had cleared out of the bedroom. Briefly wondering whether the wisest course of action would be to just go to sleep and hope that she would forgive him in the morning, Mulder decided that it might be best if he didn't play chicken with his partner. He skidded down the stairs, certain he would find her curled up in the living room. Or the office. Or the kitchen.

He finally found her in the laundry room. Despite the fact that the overhead light was off, she was sorting clothes, bedding, and towels, aided by the reflection of the streetlamp in front of the house. "Scully, what are you doing?"

"Laundry, Mulder," she snapped, not breaking away from her task long enough to look at him. "Because it's two in the morning, we have a houseful of guests arriving on Tuesday, three children who manage to go through at least two outfits on a good day, and a dog who slobbers over everything they aren't wearing. And if I start now, I might have enough time tomorrow to put together the guest room."

"Scully, I said I would put together the guest room, and I'll get it done," Mulder tiredly complained. "Christ."

She didn't respond, continuing with her task, as though Mulder weren't in the room.

"Scully, talk to me," Mulder hoarsely insisted, his arms crossed against his chest. After a few more silent moments, he snapped and walked towards her, pushing the laundry onto the floor. "Let me explain, please. I—"

"Just because you felt like coming home?" she spat. "What about the dozens of times I tried to call you to talk? To let you know about the phone calls Kyle's school has received asking about his enrollment status?"

"What the fuck?" Mulder yelled. "And you didn't think to tell me that upstairs? That wasn't the first thing out of your mouth? The safety of _my_ son is at stake and you don't even—"

"No, Mulder, stop it. You don't get to play that card with me, " Scully fought back. "And don't you ever fucking accuse me of that. Ever. Again."

And once again, he was left alone.

XXXXXXX

Mulder sat in the kitchen, knowing that they both needed to cool down a bit. He was too exhausted to take a drive or to even go out for a walk. There were a hundred different ways he could have handled the situation, and once again, he managed to use the words that would hurt her the most. Fucking Oxford education. He finally dredged up the energy to get to the living room, where he woke up three hours later, groggy and sore. The kids would be up soon, and he didn't want them to see where he had been sleeping.

After putting on a pot of coffee, he headed upstairs, pushing open the door to the master bedroom with some trepidation, relieved to find it unlocked. Of course, Scully had never locked him out before; he wasn't sure why he assumed she would do so now. She was curled up on a corner of her side of the bed, sleeping heavily, some tissues wadded up on her nightstand. He plucked the baby monitors next to the Kleenex box, wanting to at least give her a chance to sleep a bit longer. He owed her that much.

As soon as he passed Will's room, he heard the baby blabber. "Hey slugger," Mulder said to his son, surprised to see such a big smile cross the little boy's face when he recognized his father. "I missed you, big guy."

After quickly checking in on Nathan who was sprawled across his bed, Mulder carried Will downstairs, fixing him some juice and cereal. Instead of staying in the kitchen, he set them up in the living room, where they played with his toys. Even though he had only been gone for five days, Mulder could have sworn that Will was using more words and was slightly more adept at building his towers. When Nathan appeared twenty minutes later, he practically knocked Mulder over with his hug. "I missed you, I missed you," Nathan exclaimed, launching into a detailed description of everything that happened during the week.

Now that he had a puppy who he insisted sleep in his room, Kyle didn't have much of a chance to sleep in on the weekend. He promptly appeared downstairs at seven, bleary eyed, along with a barking Bandit who was demanding to be let out. "Hey Dad," he yawned after letting the dog back into the house, slumping on the couch. "Go get changed," Mulder said. "We're going out for breakfast."

"Is Dana coming?" Kyle asked a few minutes later, as he watched his father bundle his younger brothers into their fleece jackets.

"Nope," Mulder answered casually. "She's still sleeping."

He knew he was taking the coward's way out by not even approaching the second floor. He had dressed himself and the boys from clean-looking items he found in the laundry room, not wanting to risk waking Scully by rustling around upstairs. In fact, they all looked rather rumpled, but he didn't quite care. "You should leave a note," Kyle reminded him.

"Right," Mulder muttered, scrawling _out for breakfast_ on the whiteboard. "Let's go."

XXXXXXX

Scully woke up, cringing when she saw it was after 9 AM. She had intended to make an early start, and the thought of not getting to the grocery store until late morning was practically unbearable. She sat up, staring at the empty side of the bed; it was glaringly obvious that Mulder hadn't returned upstairs after their fight the night before. And it hurt to see how smooth the comforter was, and how his pillow showed no imprint. For a moment, she felt transported to a much lonelier time in her life, when Mulder only existed outside her bedroom.

She buried her face in her hands for a moment, feeling helpless. She hated fighting with Mulder; they had gone through too much, both together and apart, to waste any more time. She didn't know why she had snapped the night before; obviously he had his reasons for staying in Ohio, and she had just refused to hear him out. It had been childish of her to have thrown the news about the phone calls into his face like how she had. She wished she could explain their behavior by blaming it on the fact it has been two am, and they had both been suffering from exhaustion. But she needed to be honest with herself, and that meant owning up to the truth that it ran a bit deeper than that.

She crept down the stairs, nervous about how she should approach her apology to Mulder. They obviously needed to talk—to _really_ talk—and that would be difficult with three children underfoot. She began to speak as she entered the kitchen, stopping short when she saw it was empty. The writing on the whiteboard caught her eye, and her spirits sank. They weren't home at all. Brushing aside her hurt feelings, she cleaned up the spilled laundry and straightened up the living room. Finally deciding that she couldn't wait any longer before going to the grocery store—after all, they at least needed the turkey—she wrote her own note, being sure to add a sloppy little heart next to her name, and left the house.

XXXXXXX

It wasn't until he sat in the noisy restaurant with his three sons that Mulder realized just how much he had missed them. Maybe it was because he could enjoy their company without distraction if someone else was in charge or the food, or perhaps it was because he felt more at ease with parenting, but he was genuinely having fun with them. That was the hardest part about traveling, he figured; coming home, having realized he had missed so much in just a few days.

"Did you get the bad guy?" Nathan asked as he colored.

"I sure did, monkey," Mulder told him, keeping Will engaged by tickling him. "How about you? Did you find any monsters while I was away?"

Nathan giggled before slyly saying yes. As Mulder prodded him about what the monsters looked like, and how they had acted, he managed to engage Kyle into their conversation without the eleven-year-old rolling his eyes too much. Once their food arrived, he kept looking around the table at his sons, thinking about their very different personalities. He wondered about Samantha and her daughter, tucked away in Switzerland. How would they fit around the table? Was his niece as mischievous as his sister had been as a child? Would Samantha regress to the bratty little girl she had sometimes been when their parents weren't looking?

He could practically see their silhouettes next to those of his children, wondering whether their families would be joining for a regular breakfast out, or if were instead a special occasion, reserved only for occasional visits. His visions began to fade when Will jockeyed his brothers for his attention, relying on banging his pudgy fists on his tray, having realized that chanting wasn't doing the trick. It was only as the last of the shadows disappeared that Mulder realized he hadn't seen Scully's face in his daydream at all.

XXXXXXX

By the time Scully returned nearly two hours after she left, exhausted from battling other food shoppers for the fixings of a holiday meal, the house was still quiet. After lugging the groceries into the kitchen, she finally found Mulder, Nathan, and Will sprawled on the living room floor, engaged in a game. "Hey," Scully softly called out, not sure how well Mulder would take the interruption. He looked up at her as she entered the room, but he still didn't speak.

"Daddy's home," Nathan announced happily. "We're playing."

Scully had the feeling that she wasn't necessarily going to be invited to join them, and set about fixing lunch instead. Once the toddlers tucked into their tomato soup and grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches, Scully bit the bullet and spoke to Mulder directly. "I made some for you too," she stated. "Or f you want something else—"

"No, this is great," he responded without looking at her, flipping through the newspaper. Although his tone was far from enthusiastic, it wasn't cold either, which made her hopeful. "The Fletchers picked up Kyle while you were out. I thought it might be best when we talked."

While she was relieved to know that he wanted to tackle the problem immediately, she also sensed that he was prolonging the inevitable, promising the kids to read them two stories before their nap. Although she doubted that they would both be able to stay awake that long, it took Mulder longer than usual to emerge from the second floor. "Tea?" she offered once he finally appeared in the kitchen.

"Sure," he nodded, once again lapsing into silence until the kettle boiled and his partner handed him a steaming mug of peppermint tea.

For whatever reason, they settled on the living room floor; Mulder leaning against one couch, his long legs practically touching the other. Scully sat opposite him, her legs crossed in front of her. They had a tendency to hold their difficult conversations like this, Scully thought. Were they punishing themselves by ignoring the comfort provided by the couch?

"I should never have accused you of putting Kyle in danger," Mulder sincerely apologized. "That was a cheap shot."

"And I should have listened to you last night," Scully softly said. "I shouldn't have cut you off like that. It wasn't fair to you. But can you explain what happened?"

And so he did. When he finished, both of them had tears in their eyes. "Why didn't you just tell me a few days ago?" Scully asked. Her heart ached at the reminder of the childhood pain that Mulder was working through. Over the past few months, he had exuded confidence in everything he did, whether it was his work or fatherhood, so it had become easy for her to forget the torment he carried. It was always bubbling, she realized, even if it was under the surface.

"What are you thinking, Scully? What are you truly thinking?" he asked her. By now they were huddled together, finally touching.

"I'm afraid, Mulder. I'm afraid this is going to happen again and again, and we'll reach a breaking point. If you make every case personal like this…Mulder, you know that you can't save everyone, right?"

"We knew what I was signing up for when I took the promotion," he flatly reminded her.

"Mulder, I know that," she attempted to explain. "But there needs to be a line. At the risk of sounding selfish, you have a family, you have children who depend on you. I think that your work is incredibly important, but at what cost? And as much as I believe that this time, you _were_ the only person who could get through to that boy…I just don't know what's going to happen to us if that were always the case."

He gazed straight ahead of him. There were never easy answers, he thought. "You aren't being selfish, Scully. I made a commitment to you."

She pulled away from Mulder, startling him. Realizing her reaction to his comment, he shook his head. "No, no, no, I didn't mean to make it sound like that," he argued. "What I _meant_ to say was that you and the boys _are_ my priority. I know I screwed up this week."

"And I'll I'm saying is that we need to be careful that this doesn't become a cycle, that we don't wind up in the same exact place every few months," she cautioned. "Especially when I go back to work."

"I know," he trailed. "The only reason I've stayed at the Bureau is because of the assurances I receive that Samantha is safe."

He gave her a look, one that she almost interpreted as a challenge. Was he pushing her to say it out loud? She took the bait. "Only you can answer that question, Mulder. And I'm not asking you to make that choice."

"But I already have."

She snapped her head in surprise. "You have?" she asked.

XXXXXXX

"So we're agreed?" Mulder asked. They were still sitting side-by-side in the living room, utterly exhausted from their marathon conversation. "We won't say anything to anyone until after the holiday?"

"That would be best," Scully sniffled, nodding in agreement. "It would be too much for us to broach the subject before then."

Mulder sighed. Already, things were different. Even just days before, he had been dreaming about a holiday with everyone sitting around the table: the boys, his sister and niece, Scully and a redheaded baby girl.

But now, he knew that two of those people wouldn't be there. And it hurt.

XXXXXXX

Scully hadn't realized that she had been crying until she was unable to say anything upon answering the phone. "Hey Scully," Langly quickly said. "We found out who has been making the phone calls. And it's not who you think."


	46. Chapter Forty Five

**My apologies for the long delay between chapters! While I would have loved to write, life had other plans over the last few weeks. I greatly appreciate your patience, and I hope you enjoy. Cheers!**

Langley was right: she hadn't expected the identity of the caller.

Although their relationship had been fraught with tension even before they reached their breaking point in June, she still missed her mother. Since the end of the trial, Scully had been finding herself thinking about Margaret more and more, trying to temper her instinct to make peace with that of shielding her children from unnecessary trauma. While she wouldn't necessarily rule out a reconciliation in the future, she was unsure as to whether she wanted to make that first step so soon.

The approaching holiday season wasn't been helping matters. While she had been concentrating on pulling off a Thanksgiving that would include a rather eclectic group of guests, she was most looking forward to Christmas, her favorite time of the year. Despite not wanting the boys introduced to the commercialism that it accompanied, she knew Mulder was already intent on spoiling them...and that she would be content to indulge him (and them), at least this once. After all, they had so much to celebrate.

The previous year, she and Mulder had joined her mother, aunt, and some cousins for a comparatively subdued turkey dinner. She wondered about Margaret's plans for Thursday, convincing herself that she had plenty of options-her sister for one, and Tara's family for another-after all, she had spent many holidays with both families. Maybe it was her stubborn nature, but Scully didn't feel compelled to pick up the phone and ask for herself. Maybe she would have felt differently if her mother-in-law wouldn't be visiting, as if the role of grandmother had been cast, so a second need not apply.

In contrast to twelve months ago, this year she would be hosting Thanksgiving for the first time, juggling four houseguests and four other visitors, including a sister she barely knew. Luckily, her brother would be preparing the bulk of the meal, under the threat of divorce by his wife. Not having to take on personal responsibility for the turkey freed her to worry about everything else: how Mulder's mother would cope with five energetic boys running around the house, whether her sister would even feel the least bit comfortable sharing a holiday with near-strangers, and most of all, the consequences of the very difficult decision she and Mulder had reluctantly reached earlier that afternoon.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

By the time the toddlers were tucked into their beds, the nausea that she had struggled with since her conversation with Mulder had given way into emptiness. While a part of her felt mollified that Mulder shared her concerns regarding the path they were headed if he continued his current line of work, she still hazily wondered whether they needed to persevere a little longer. After all, it had only be six weeks since his appointment; could they even say that they had given it a fair shot?

While she had stumbled through their conversation, searching for the words that best expressed her scattered thoughts, Mulder had been his usual eloquent self, uttering aloud the eight words that underpinned their fears: another six weeks wouldn't be worth the risk.

One of the first things that had attracted her to Mulder was his passion for his work, and now, six years later, it was that very characteristic that posed the biggest threat to their relationship. He had said the same thing about her patience; while it was the most valuable trait he could hope for in a partner, given their new family, it instead could easily become a catalyst for resentment.

Four hours after they had dried their tears, the ramifications of their decision were just hitting her with full force.

Everything was different.

As she mindlessly dried some dishes, she suddenly felt Mulder's scratchy face rub against her own, accompanied by a squeeze around her waist. "You okay?" he murmured, using that same tone of voice as when soothing a cranky toddler. She had just gotten off the phone with Preston, who promised to address the issue with her mother, and to file for a no contact order, which would prohibit Margaret from spending time outside Kyle's school.

Scully nodded, even managing a smile for him. "Just tired."

"Stay up with us," he asked quietly. "At least for a little bit."

For a split second, Mulder was sure she would refuse his invitation. The last twenty-four hours for them had been pure hell, and they were only a few hours removed from the second most difficult conversation of their relationship that afternoon. For Mulder, the thought of his partner being a flight of stairs away instead of next to him on the couch, even for just an hour, was unbearable. But maybe Scully would agree precisely for those same reasons. His panic grew when he heard her draw a sharp breath, and he prepared himself for her to beg off.

But she surprised him. "Save some room for me," she nodded, referring to his tendency to drape himself over the entire length of the sofa, making it nearly impossible for anyone to share the space.

He kissed her neck before taking his leave, relieved that she promised to stay close, resisting her tendency to retreat into herself when under such strain.

They rarely had a chance to relax on a school night, even during those quiet evenings following an easy bedtime routine for the boys. On those few and far between occasions when they weren't exhausted by splashy and noisy baths, requests for extra stories, or protests of I'm-not-tireds, they were catching up on laundry, bills, homework reminders, and other household chores. Tonight, despite the fact that Scully had spent the last three days in a panic over the state of the guest rooms, she had no inclination to remind Mulder of his promise to clean. Instead, when she finished up in the kitchen, she crawled next to him on the sofa, tucking herself under his chin. Although she normally read or worked on a crossword puzzle while watching TV, she resisted the urge to multitask, and instead inhaled Mulder's musky scent, listening to his heartbeat drowning out the noise from the television, and closed her eyes for just a brief second.

"Hey sleepy," she heard him whisper before pressing a kiss onto her ear.

Slowly, she woke up; the television was off and only the tableside lamp was lit. "Hmmph?"

"It's after ten. Let's go upstairs and make up for lost time," he suggested quietly, suddenly hesitating, his tongue tangled once he caught sight of the confusion on her face. He had assumed she was just tired; had he misread her? Did she need more time?

"Or is it too late?" he quickly added.

"Never," she promised him, reassuringly squeezing his hand, unprepared for the spark that jolted through her. It made her never want to let go.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Mom," Mulder warmly called out as he spied his mother entering the restaurant. He nervously stood up, his knee catching on the table as he got out of his seat. He walked over to her and gave her a hug and kiss on the cheek, and he could have sworn that she hadn't hugged him that tightly since he was a small boy. "It's good to see you."

"It's good to be here," she smiled as she allowed him to pull out her seat and help her down. "I haven't been to DC in ages. Marjory met me for dinner here after I arrived, and then I was so exhausted, I went straight to bed and I even slept through the night. They always had comfortable beds here, it's nice that not everything changes in a place. I heard it had been bought out, so I was a bit unsure about the reservations."

He sipped his coffee, enjoying his mother's babbling; he couldn't remember the last time she sounded so carefree. She looked less harried than he expected, which was a nice change from previous visits. "We're only a five minute drive away," he promised her. "But if you need to lie down this afternoon, you can use the guest room, or I can bring you back here. Whatever you feel like."

"That's sweet, Fox," Teena thanked him, stopping to give the waiter her order. "I appreciate you making the extra trip this morning. I just wanted to speak with you about a few things that are, well, delicate."

"Are you sick?" Mulder immediately asked, stumbling over his words.

"No dear, of course not," Teena waved him off, shaking her head. "You worry too much, Fox. It's money matters. I wanted to talk to you about the trusts I'm setting up for the two younger ones. Don't worry, they'll be equal to Kyle's."

"It's very generous of you," Mulder continued. "I admit, I was a bit surprised that you were so far along in setting things up. I knew you were going to do it, but I just wasn't expecting the paperwork so soon."

"Fox," Teena gravely interrupted, looking down at her coffee mug. "I want to do this. I know that you have your own money from your grandfather, but it would give me peace of mind to know that if something were to happen to you, the children would be taken care of. And I know that Dana doesn't…well, she's from a different background."

Mulder inhaled deeply, biting his lip. He should have predicted this would be the subject of the conversation back when she first suggested a mother-son breakfast on Monday night. He couldn't start a fight the day before Thanksgiving. He knew that, but more importantly, his mother certainly knew that.

"Fox, we both know she doesn't come from money," Teena rushed. "That's a fact. What I'm trying to say is that I don't want her named as a trustee."

"She's their _mother_," Mulder argued. "If you are doing this so they have something to fall back on if I'm not around, it makes no sense not to have her as a trustee."

"This is not a judgment on her character or her parenting," Teena fought back. "I don't know her very well, and you've been married to her less than a year. Look at it from my side, Fox. If I needed a new signatory on my accounts, would you have me name someone I just met?"

"Of course not, Mother," groaned Mulder. "But I have known her for six years, not six months...Will you reconsider after we've been married a year? In March?"

"Two years," Teena bargained. "And you can suggest someone to serve as a trustee for now."

"My attorney," Mulder countered, not missing a beat. "I can have him contact your lawyer."

"Now we have that business out of the way," Tina smirked, holding up her coffee cup. "Thanksgiving can begin."

XXXXXXX

Scully hated to admit that she was intimidated by her mother-in-law. Teena Mulder carried a formidable presence, and Scully still wasn't sure whether her bark was worse than her bite, despite her partner's assurances to the contrary. While she would never fully understand how Teena had crumbled after Samantha's existence, forgetting that she still had a child who needed her emotionally, she knew that for Mulder's sake, she needed to forge some sort of relationship. So it came as an incredible surprise—to both of them—when Teena broke out of her shell when she learned that three grandsons were in her son's custody.

That summer, during the drive back from Martha's Vineyard, they had stopped in Greenwich for a few hours. While the visit had been awkward at first, everyone had eventually relaxed. Prior to their arrival, Kyle had warned Scully that his grandmother's house was like a visit at an art museum, and she had to say that she agreed with his assessment. While she silently panicked about the array of expensive items in the sitting room that the boys could easily break, she witnessed Teena display more affection than she had ever seen. The look of pride and joy on her partner's face on receiving a hug from his mother prompted Scully to promise to herself that she would do everything in her power to encourage Teena's behavior.

While Teena's interactions with Nathan and Will that afternoon were a bit forced and awkward, it was obvious that she was trying. It was sometimes hard to decipher what either boy was saying, and this was compounded by their crankiness from being cooped up in the car for most of the day. After lunch, Mulder suggested a trip to a neighborhood playground to try and tire the younger children out so they would sleep during the next leg of their journey. During their walk, Teena asked Kyle the usual questions about school and sports, and once that line of conversation was exhausted, she began asking Scully a barrage of questions, obviously having asked fellow grandmothers for some guidance. Scully found herself being lectured on the benefits of organic food, the dangers of the chemicals in cleaning products, and the alleged rise in pediatric food allergies.

Scully hadn't realized the impression she made on Teena until her mother-in-law called them a couple of weeks later, curious as to why Mulder hadn't phoned her that weekend as he normally did. She thought that Teena would ring off once she explained that he was on an out-of-town-case, but instead, Teena asked her for updates on the kids. After their first phone conversation, Scully received bulky box in the mail, which contained some of Mulder's childhood photos, and a few parenting magazines that a friend's daughter had recommended. She jotted off a thank you note, enclosing a few photos and drawings the boys had made at library story hour.

She remembered the look of awe on Mulder's face when he leaned against the door frame between their bedroom and bathroom, the cordless handset dangling from his grasp. Scully had been furiously brushing her teeth, lost in thought as she tried to figure out her agenda for the next day. "What?" she asked, immediately thinking that something terrible had happened.

"You're amazing," he mumbled, dazed, with a starry look in his eye.

She spat out her toothpaste and wiped her face, quickly rinsing her brush; once again, she didn't have the slightest idea as to what her partner was blabbering. After a day battling the wills of two stubborn toddlers, amazing was the _last _thing she felt. "What are you talking about?"

He stepped closer to her. "That was my mother," he explained, reaching out to play with her hair. "She said that you sent her things the kids made her. Scully, she was really touched. Thanks for doing that."

At that point, she felt conflicted. She had thrown those packages together without much thought, and now all she could envision was a lonely old woman, starved for news about her grandsons. She vowed to herself to maintain more consistent contact, and so she faithfully sent her something in the mail every couple of weeks. Maybe it had to do with the guilt she wore for not having the need to do the same for her own mother, but she had begun to enjoy their correspondence.

And now, she was nervously awaiting Teena Mulder's arrival at her home. It was the day before Thanksgiving, and they were expecting her brother's family to arrive that afternoon, which would give them time for her to become reacquainted with her grandsons before their cousins—and chaos—were due to arrive. Since Teena tired easily and wasn't used to much noise and commotion, she decided to stay at a nearby hotel instead of braving the guest room across the hall from the toddlers, who were anything but quiet.

And a lucky decision it was, Scully thought, as the morning had proven to be chaotic. Nathan was overly hyper, excited about seeing his cousins and his enthusiasm had wound up both his younger brother and the dog. Every few minutes he would ask his mother when their guests were arriving, and she was running out of ways to distract him. Just when she had redirected Nathan's energy into playing with his toys, Will decided that he was the rightful owner of the dinosaur his brother held, letting out a ferocious cry. Scully cringed when she heard the clatter of the back door between her son's screams, hoping that her mother-in-law wouldn't hold it against her.

XXXXXXXX

"I haven't been here in close to twenty years," Teena remarked as her son led her into his home, cringing when she heard the dog barking and the wailing of a small child emanate from another room. "It looks much better now though, I can tell you that much. Your grandfather would never let anyone redecorate. But I certainly don't remember it being so noisy back then."

Mulder held his breath as he watched his mother examine the renovations. It wasn't until that particular moment that he realized how much her praise meant to him. He felt his heart race as she approached the living room, suddenly impatient to have her meet his family in their home. He wanted her to be watch the boys play with the puppy, to inspect the photos on the fireplace mantel, to frown at the misplaced socks stuck between the couch cushions, to engage in conversation with his partner.

"Daddy, daddy, daddy!" Nathan ran into the kitchen, throwing himself at his father.

"Hey big guy," Mulder greeted his son, picking him up, hoping his mother could see just how much he loved being a father-_their_ father. "Monkey, can you say hello to Grandma?"

"Hi," Nathan waved, taking a deep breath that signaled the launch of one of his stream-of-consciousness monologues. "There's a turkey that's my hand on the fridge and a pra-pra-rade and wanna play with my castle?"

"Why don't we get your grandma settled, okay?" Mulder suggested, placing him back down on the floor. "Can you hold her hand and take her into the living room? Don't pull too hard, Nathan. And don't run."

"Hi Teena," Scully shyly greeted her mother-in-law as she approached them, adjusting her hold on a squirming Will. "It's good to see you."

"What's wrong with him?" Teena asked, referring to the sobbing child, her tone more curious than concerned.

"He's just overtired. I'm going to put him down for a nap," Scully said, rubbing circles on Will's back. "I'll be back once he's asleep."

She took Teena's approving smile as a good sign, unable to see the older woman shake her head. Will's cries muffled as they ascended the stairs, and by the time they sat down on the rocking chair in his nursery, they had practically disappeared. "What's wrong, bullfrog? You haven't been your smiley self today. I hope you aren't getting sick."

As she rested the back of her hand on Will's forehead to check to see whether he was feverish, he slumped against her chest, clutching Doggy, his breathing deepening.

"I think he's just done in by his four-thirty wakeup call," Mulder remarked, leaning against the doorframe; he could never tire of watching his partner sharing a quiet moment with one of the boys.

"Four-thirty?" Scully asked, confused. When she had woken at ten minutes to seven, with Will cradled between her and Mulder, she assumed that father and son had slept in, skipping their customary early morning outing.

"We went out for a run," Mulder shrugged. "And then I took a shower, and then we decided to get back into bed. We didn't want you to get lonely."

"No wonder you're tired, buddy," Scully said as she adjusted the baby in her arms. "He had a meltdown when he saw Nathan playing with that orange dinosaur. You only caught the end of it. How was breakfast with your mother?"

Mulder took a place at the window seat, adjusting the rocking chair so he could sit face-to-face with his partner. He opened his mouth before quickly closing it, unable to verbalize what he wanted to say. Immediately, Scully knew that something unexpected had happened during their breakfast, and her first thought was that her partner had changed his mind about the decision they had reached a few days earlier.

And that thought terrified her.

As much as she Mulder was confident in their plan, she knew from experience that time alone with his mother sent him into a tailspin of self-doubt and confusion. Scully hadn't realized she made a sound until Mulder bent down, cupping her shoulders. "No, Scully, it's not what you think. She's actually in a really good mood," he attempted to explain, choosing his words carefully.

"But?"

Mulder frowned, not wanting to damper his partner's enthusiasm for their first holiday as a family. But better to hear it from him, now, away from prying eyes, instead of being caught off-guard by one of his mother's rejoinders in front of their guests. "I think she's finally managed to admit, in her own way of course, that she was a bit surprised about our marriage," Mulder diplomatically finished. "She doesn't want you named as a trustee on the funds she's setting up for Nathan and Will.

Scully let out a sigh of relief; skepticism, of all things, was something she could easily handle. The thought of trust funds was so removed from her everyday concerns that she couldn't care less. "She's here, that's the big step we wanted," she reasoned. "As long as she pays attention to the boys, that's the important thing."

Mulder shook his head. "I know that we both thought she would also make an effort to get to know you," he argued. His mother's behavior at the restaurant had left him slightly dazed; since her daughter's disappearance, Teena Mulder's behavior had sometimes been erratic, with periods of deep depression followed by stretches of time filled with volunteer work, social engagements, and travel. The same was true of their relationship; weeks could go by without any contact, followed by near-daily conversations.

While Teena had certainly been on the upswing since learning about her grandchildren, Mulder could tell from their conversation that morning she was less enthusiastic about his remarriage. It wasn't personal to his partner, however; Mulder knew that Teena was just being protective of him, as any mother would, given his history. As he put the pieces of the puzzle together during breakfast, he realized that Teena was relying on the goodwill she had created over the past few months through her phone calls and packages. While she was willing to build a virtual relationship with her daughter-in-law, she wasn't necessarily up for making nice by breaking bread over the dinner table. It disappointed him greatly, but at the same time he still felt optimistic; after all, his mother had consented to visit _their_ house.

"And all I'm saying is that if we had to choose, we would want her to be bonding with the kids instead of you or I," countered Scully. "Mulder, I know that as much as we want everything to run smoothly this weekend, the realistic scenario is that we'll make a couple of steps forward and then take a few steps back where your mother is concerned. You said it yourself last night when you mentioned the holidays are sometimes hard for her."

Will's soft snoring ended their conversation. "I'll change his diaper and put him down," Mulder offered. "I put Kyle in charge downstairs, so you might need to assess the damage when you get down there. And Scully?"

She turned around, nodding to him to continue.

"I need you to remember two things. This is our house; she's never lived here. And, more importantly, even if I had told my mother this morning about our decision, she would never been able to change my mind."

"I know, Mulder," Scully assured him, walking back towards him and Will. "I know."

XXXXXXXXXX

To her credit, Teena was trying her best to keep up with Nathan's complicated rambling regarding his trains. "Do they all have names?" she wryly asked Scully when the younger woman handed her a mug of tea. Kyle had the sense to put up a card table for them to place the train playset, as he knew his grandmother wouldn't be able to sit on the floor, or even have the ability to comfortably bend down to the level of the coffee table.

"They do," Scully smiled, thrilled to see Teena interacting with her grandson. "And I'm sure you'll learn them all by heart. Nathan is a good teacher."

Nathan was practically playing by himself, impatiently instructing his grandmother on how she should be moving Percy around the table. "He's so spirited," Teena remarked. "He's just like Samantha. Looks like her too, with those dark curls."

Scully blinked back her surprise; she never thought she would see the day when Teena Mulder would speak about her daughter so casually, and with such warmth. "I have the photos you sent us," she responded. "There is such a strong resemblance between the boys and Mul—Fox," she recalled.

Teena nodded. "That's why I mailed them, dear."

Scully froze, unsure whether her mother-in-law intended to sound so condescending, or if she was instead being oversensitive. She heard Kyle choke back a snort from where he was sitting across the room. They locked eyes for a moment, and she hoped that the look she shot him wouldn't be interpreted as encouraging his behavior. But by the time she looked back at Teena, she was daintily sipping her tea and complacently pushing Percy around the table, all but ignoring her.

As much as she wanted to retreat to the kitchen, Scully knew that she owed it to Mulder to put forth her best effort. Her patience was rewarded when Nathan dared to stand up to his grandmother when she dared to change the order of the trains on the playset. "No, Percy's there," Nathan vehemently argued. "Thomas is here."

Much to their surprise, Teena and Nathan's disagreement escalated into a full-blown stalemate. Nathan refused to give into his grandmother's suggestion to flip the order of their trains. Scully had tried to explain how the television show and books always depict the trains sitting in a certain order in the railway yard, but Teena just waved her off, saying that surely her grandson had enough imagination to go along with her idea.

While Mulder uneasily supervised the standoff, Scully made lunch, not quite convinced by Mulder's assurances that Nathan wouldn't be harmed by his mother's outrageous behavior, at least not at that stage. While he understood Scully's instinct to put a stop to play time, he didn't think Nathan would meet any harm from being challenged by his grandmother, at least as long as he was there to closely monitor the situation.

Against their usual protocol, Scully served Nathan his lunch in the living room, and certainly surprised her mother-in-law when she put her own meal in front of her. Teena, however, was clearly not amused that she was served the same food as her grandson: tomato soup with a grilled cheese sandwich, but stubbornly refused to complain.

"Do you want to go to the park with me and Bandit?" Mulder asked Nathan once he finished his sandwich, knowing they would soon meet the breaking point. While Nathan was really in more need of a nap than a trip outside, he had to find a way to get the three-year-old out of the room without a fight.

"No," Nathan resolutely told his father, crossing his arms in front of him as best he could with his cast, pushing his plate away.

Mulder could tell from his son's pout that they were minutes away from a meltdown of epic proportions. Right when he was about to bite the bullet and carry him to bed, he saw Nathan lay his head next to his soup bowl and immediately close his eyes. While that wasn't necessarily surprising, he certainly wasn't expecting to see his mother drop off to sleep seconds later, laying her head against the back of the sofa cushion. He sighed. It was the best outcome they could have hoped for, he thought, finding a blanket with minimal doghair to drape over his mother's lap; at least no blood had been shed. Yet.

He just hoped it would stay that way all weekend.

XXXXXXXXXX

The uneasy peace between Teena Mulder and her son's family held through the rather noisy arrival of Charlie's brood, which was followed by a solid half-hour of shouting, barking, bickering, and whining. While waiting for her cab, Teena called Nathan over to her, making sure that both his parents were in their presence. "You're a good boy," she told him before he scampered off to play with his cousin, giving her son and daughter-in-law a curt nod before promising to return the next morning.

"That was unexpected," Mulder breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Let's just hold off on conducting any more social experiments involving the kids," Scully requested, rolling her eyes. While she wasn't thrilled with the way her partner had handled the situation between Nathan and Teena, she also knew that her way wouldn't necessarily have been ideal, and most likely would have resulted in the one thing she and Mulder wanted to avoid: the boys witnessing any ugliness involving their grandmother.

Although they managed to keep Teena-related issues under wraps, it was a little more difficult to ignore the underlying tension between Charlie and Karen, even with Charlie having barricaded himself in the kitchen. However, by the time they finished dinner, everyone was much more relaxed. With the music playing in the background, it almost felt like one of their summer evenings, back before all hell broke loose.

As Charlie prepped the next day's meal, Scully and the older boys claimed the kitchen island for baking. It had been a tradition for Scully and Peter to make apple pie for whatever holidays they were spending together, and her nephew had generously insisted that Kyle participate. The Talking Heads blasted from the radio, the adults having enforced the family coda of no holiday music until the end of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. "Sixteen hours buddy, hang in there," Charlie told his son, who had been quite vocal in his wish for the Christmas season to begin.

Peter's holiday enthusiasm that afternoon had been contagious, and now all of the kids were excited about Santa, presents, and candy canes. He and Kyle were talking about what video games they should ask for Christmas, Scully listening very carefully. While she had learned a lot about the subject over the past six months, she was still not quite confident in her ability to pick up all of the information currently under intense debate. She wished Mulder was there to provide a second set of ears, but he and Karen had been tasked with settling the toddlers into bed, a particularly thankless job in that Nathan and Noah were far too wound up to sleep, and had already woken up Will at least once.

Scully hadn't even noticed she was singing along, albeit softly, while stirring the dough to the beat of the music until she realized the room was suddenly silent. She looked up, suddenly confused, only to be met with a roar of laugher, Mulder's bellows the hardiest of all. She immediately reddened, not very comforted by her partner's embrace. "So is this what you do at home all day?" he teased, resting his chin on the top of her head, reaching around her to grab some raw dough.

She gently slapped his hand away from the food. "You're adorable," he whispered, finding her glowering only all the more endearing, before finally giving her a kiss.

"You two are gross," Kyle remarked, with Peter quickly agreeing with him, adding, "I'm glad my mom and dad don't do that anymore."

Scully stiffened, resisting the urge to look at her brother. She wondered how seriously she should take her nephew's comment when she heard Mulder say, "Well, Dana and I are technically newlyweds, which means we're allowed to be mushy. So you can't make fun of us for another three years, at least. After that, you can give us a hard time. Now your parents have been married for what, ten years? So if you catch them doing anything gross, you would be able to embarrass them, no, make that _mortify_ them. That's why they need to fly under the radar."

She relaxed when she saw Peter eagerly nod; Mulder always knew exactly what to say and how to say it. "You're lucky," Kyle added, going back to peeling some apples.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Thanksgiving morning arrived early for Mulder when Will decided to begin his day at five am. For the benefit of the rest of the household, Mulder decided to go running, bundling the baby into the stroller before he could kick up much of a fuss. Despite the fact he had hoped to sleep in, Mulder made the best of it, and by the time they had returned home with coffee beans for the household and a doughnut for Will, he felt refreshed.

"You got the good stuff!" Charlie remarked upon catching sight of the coffee, cracking the first smile of his arrival. He was inspecting the turkey, waiting for the oven to preheat. The kitchen in general looked like a disaster area, but Charlie had assured everyone the night before that he knew exactly what he was doing, and no one was to touch anything.

"Consider it my contribution to the feast," responded Mulder, who sat Will down in the breakfast nook to play with his magnets, Bandit immediately joining him. He needed to shower, preferably with his partner, and figured the dog to be a more reliable babysitter than his brother-in-law.

"Hey, Mulder?" Charlie called out after promising to keep an eye on the baby. "Thanks for what you said to Peter last night I-I know I've made a lot of mistakes over the past few months, and I'm doing what I can to fix things."

"He looks up to you, Charlie. That shouldn't have to change, not when he's seven."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Later that morning, Mulder was startled to find Marita and his mother conversing over tea in the living room. He and Scully had taken all five kids to the playground, Charlie needing some peace and quiet to finish up his dinner preparations. Scully had hoped that letting the kids run around would mean they would take extra long naps before they sat down for an early dinner. "You never tell me anything.?I didn't know Dana had a sister, Fox," Teena clucked to her son.

While Mulder's mind screamed _neither did we_, he instead mustered a forced smile and picked up Will, feeling no shame in using his youngest son as a human shield. He felt out-of-sorts, watching his worlds collide. Intellectually, he had accepted the fact that Marita was part of their extended family, but in practice, he was completely unprepared to watch his mother and his informant taking their tea in the living room, silhouetted by the crackling fire, while his lab-created children and dog romped at their feet. He figured It would be the closest the Mulder family would come to a Rockwellian scene.

"Can you say hi, bullfrog?" Mulder asked Will, who shyly waved, showing off Doggy in his hand. When in doubt, distract the womenfolk with an adorable baby; while neither his mother nor his sister-in-law struck him as particularly maternal, it was better than trying to explain the origins of his relationship with Marita. Especially since he had no idea what his guest had told her.

"Doggy," Will said loudly, thumping his stuffed dog onto his father's chest. It was one of his favorite words, and he always displayed a crinkled grin when he said it.

"I see that's your puppy," Marita awkwardly smiled. "What's his name?"

"Doggy."

Noticing Marita's slightly perplexed expression, Mulder decided to interrupt before the farce continued any longer. "His name _is _Doggy," he explained. "And what's our other puppy's name, Will? Who gives you licks?"

"Ban-Ban," Will giggled. "Doggy."

Upon hearing his name, Bandit rushed into the room, immediately trailed by Nathan and Noah. "Down," Mulder sternly said, after the dog jumped up on him, and Bandit suddenly went still, wagging his tail.

"That dog is actually quite gentle with them," Teena knowingly reported to Marita. "I was very surprised to learn that Dana allows them together unsupervised."

"Mom," Mulder groaned. "Can you not-"

Teena gave her son a pointed stare. "Yes?" she dared him to continue, sipping her tea regally. "Honestly, Fox, I'm just stating the facts. There is no need to get up in arms about it."

All he could do was roll his eyes and think of an excuse to leave the room, despite knowing full well that the two women in front of him were helpless where it came to managing feisty small children. Excusing himself once Will was settled with some dinosaurs, he tracked Scully down in the kitchen, where she was stirring a concoction of alcohol and mulled spices. "I'm sorry," he apologized.

"About what?" Scully asked, confused. She would be loath to admit it, but upon realizing who was sitting in the living room, she resorted to cowering the kitchen in spite of her brother's protestations.

"My mother is just making her feelings known," Mulder sheepishly responded. "Don't take it personally."

"We promised, Mulder. We aren't letting her get to us," she quietly reminded him, hoping her brother wasn't overhearing their conversation. "This is our first Thanksgiving at our home, and we're not going to let her damper it. Now get back there and I'll join you in a minute. And I promise to make it worth your while later on."

He stepped back. "Oh really?" he saucily replied. "I'm going to have to hold you to that."

For thirty seconds, they faced off in the middle of the kitchen, ignoring everything and everyone instead of each other. "I'm not going in alone," Mulder whined.

"And no one is eating if you two don't get out of here," Charlie grumbled, checking the turkey in the oven.

Scully rolled her eyes. "I don't know which one of you is worse."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

While she had big smiles for Marita and Teena, Scully quickly cast her lot with the children, who were playing with Nathan's castle. Nathan and Noah were in their own little world, practically speaking their own language and ignoring everyone else. Although the adults couldn't keep up with with they were saying, the boys were clearly enjoying their game. Scully tried to gauge whether Will felt left out, but the older ones didn't complain about him moving his dinosaurs and blocks among their knights, trains, and trucks.

"Nathan," Scully caught the three-year-old's attention. "Do you want to ask Marita if she wants to play? I bet she likes castles."

An uncomfortable look crossed Marita's face, but the blonde quickly recovered, graciously accepting Nathan's offer to share his toys. Once she sat cross-legged on the floor, she didn't know quite what to do with the plastic knight that Noah handed her. Scully prompted the boys to let down the drawbridge, with Nathan rather bossily telling his new aunt how everything was supposed to play out.

"And there were dinosaurs in medieval England?" Marita asked rather skeptically.

"Yes, they were brought by Thomas the Tank Engine and his friends," Scully answered seriously, instantly realizing that Marita had not caught the underlying sarcasm in her voice.

"Big Bird," added Will, proudly holding up the plastic toy.

"Yes, the Muppets were there too. Thanks for reminding me, bullfrog," Scully told him, accepting her sons slobbery gift. "And where is Oscar the Grouch?"

"How many toys do these boys have?" Mrs. Mulder asked, turning away from the conversation she was having with her son.

"You sent some of them," Mulder grumbled as Scully shot him a look.

"They like to mix their toys together," Scully explained with as much politeness as she could muster. "They tend to have a short attention span when they are playing with any one thing."

"Well that certainly wasn't the case yesterday," Teena scoffed, launching into an explanation of what had occurred the previous afternoon, carefully omitting any mention about how her confrontation with Nathan ended.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Care for some grog?" Mulder asked his partner, pulling her close to him as she approached the stove.

They were nearly an hour removed from dessert, after which everyone retreated to the living room to decompress. Upon hearing the word 'bath,' the younger boys had realized bedtime was on the horizon, and had duly gotten their second wind, doing their best to delay the inevitable. Once Scully had the children scrubbed and out of the tub, she turned them over to Karen, whose patience for Teena and Marita was wearing thin enough to insist on supervising the bedtime routine for the second night in a row.

"Hmm, sure," she answered, breaking his kiss. Despite the scientific evidence that indicated the so-called turkey tireds did not exist, she was beginning to disagree with the notion. "We're both officially off-the-clock now, Karen told me to stop checking in on her and the kids. I think she's going to hide up there as long as she can...Jeez Mulder, this is _strong_."

"I only put in a couple of cups of vodka," Mulder shrugged, craning his neck to inspect the stovetop. Usually Scully couldn't get enough alcohol in her mixed drinks; besides, she shouldn't even have been able to taste it. "Did somebody turn down the flame?"

"But _I _put in the vodka," argued Scully, trying not to notice that Mulder was tracing patterns along the skin underneath the waistband of her jeans, one of his tell-tale signs that he wanted her. "When did you pour? I did it right before we ate."

"Actually it was Karen," Charlie explained, stashing the last of the leftovers in the fridge. "And Langley too, for that matter."

"My mother has that effect on people," Mulder thought to himself, not realizing that he had spoken aloud until Scully giggled, a sound that went straight through him, as though a spark had been lit. He suddenly felt lightheaded, and he knew it wasn't from the alcohol.

He could tell she also felt it, and he slipped his arm around her waist, as though it were a secret signal.

"I'm taking your place in the Mario Kart tournament," Charlie announced, interrupting their moment, an underlying hint in his voice. "And you two should relax. I'm not drinking." He had previously confided to his brother-in-law earlier that he had promised his wife he wouldn't touch any alcohol for the foreseeable future.

"That doesn't make me feel any better," Mulder muttered.

"Do you know where our other guests are?" Scully quietly murmured, snaking her arms around his neck.

He knew exactly what she was thinking, tucking her hair behind her ears and slightly nodding. "My mother was lying down for a bit upstairs, and everyone else is playing in the living room."

"Hmmm."

"Laundry room?" he asked suggestively, waggling his eyebrows. "Or office? You did say something earlier about making it worth my while."

Before she could respond, they heard a thump from the second floor, followed by a fierce wail. "Come on, Scully. They can't interrupt us if they can't find us," he prodded her with a puppy dog pout, hoisting her legs around his waist, walking them towards the adjacent alcove.

"You know, Mulder, the more you give me that look, the less effective it becomes," Scully countered as he sat her down on the dryer, not even believing her own words as she said them.

"And yet, it just worked right now," he pointed out with a grin, slipping his hands underneath her shirt as she ran her hands through his hair.

"It might be a better technique than I'm apt to admit," she relented before trailing off, trying to concentrate. A part of her had felt removed from herself all day, as though in disbelief that all of this was really happening. It was a good thing, she thought; a reminder that she was thankful for how things had worked out. But at that immediate moment, she needed to feel grounded, she needed Mulder to physically remind her that all of this was real.

"Mulder," she softly growled between kisses, half out of frustration and half out of desire, fumbling between them to remove layers.

He felt her hands inside his jeans. "Please, Scully, don't start something we can't finish," Mulder huskily warned her. He hadn't thought much beyond stealing a few quiet moments with his partner, but now that they were in the clear, he was more than willing to take advantage of their privacy.

She lifted herself up enough to help him tug off her pants. "I wouldn't dream of being so cruel," she promised with hooded eyes, gently scraping his jaw with her teeth. "I love you," she reminded him, letting out a small moan as they set a rhythm, burying her face in Mulder's neck. It was rough, it was fast, and it was perfect; the laundry room was never the place for slow and sensual.

"Close?" he whispered before trailing his lips down her neck, somehow drawing out that one word into three syllables. The sharp gasp she let out answered his question, and he pulled her up and somehow even closer to him, slightly changing the angle at which they were thrusting, the move sending her soaring. Just as he tumbled over the edge, he tipped forward, pushing Scully onto her back, a shiver running down her spine when her bare skin hit the cold stainless steel. The yell he heard was not from her; it couldn't have been, as her mouth was occupied in nibbling his left ear.

"Fuck," he swore, looking up.

They had been caught in the act.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

While embarrassing for everyone involved, Mulder knew that Scully would bear the brunt of the humiliation; his mother's reaction let it be known that in her eyes, boys would be boys, double-standard be damned. Still, even in her indignation, Teena was WASPY to the core, merely letting out a disappointed "Oh really, Fox" before closing the laundry room door, saving her more uncharitable comments for their eventual reappearance in the kitchen. Marita, meanwhile, had been clearly caught off-guard by her discovery, and after her initial shriek, grew very quiet…and very red, much like her half-sister. Almost too much like her half-sister, if Mulder had a say in the matter.

After a quick shower, Mulder wandered back downstairs, wondering where everyone went. He poured himself another glass of grog and then found himself elf at the fireplace, looking at the photos that Scully had so carefully arranged. Sipping his drink, he took in Will's impish gaze as he lay against Bandit; Nathan's oozing excitement from his perch on top of a jungle gym; and Kyle's more serene smile on his school portrait. Next to a still of the boys and their cousins, stood his favorite photo of him with the children; a casual shot of the four of them, with no one even looking at the camera. He hadn't even realized that Scully had managed to capture that moment until he first saw it on the mantle a few weeks previously.

After lingering on the photos of his children, Mulder turned his attention to the slightly faded, slightly creased likeness of his sister. He liked to think that eight-year-old Samantha would have enjoyed a chaotic Thanksgiving like the one why they were celebrating. While she would always look forward to a holiday for which she could dress up, Samantha would inevitably get bored in her scratchy party dress once she had showed off to their guests, and would then beg her parents to let her change into pajamas.

He hadn't thought of that in a long time, he realized, as he traced the frame with his index finger. I'm not forgetting you, he silently promised her. This is just the only way I know to keep both you and my children safe.

XXXXXXXXX

Scully entered the living room with a cranky Will in her arms, biting back a smile upon seeing a damp haired Mulder staring at the photos arranged on the mantle. Upon hearing his son's cries, Mulder turned around, taking in the sight of mother-and-son.

Scully's cheeks were both blotchy from the hot shower she had taken as well as, he expected, from the residual embarrassment from Marita and Teena walking in on them. Although Scully would have liked to have blamed that particular stunt on her partner's ability to talk her into anything when her defenses were down, she knew full well that if he hadn't suggested stealing a few minutes for themselves, she most certainly would have done so instead.

Since she had last been downstairs, the ambiance had drastically changed; the noise from the television had been replaced with some Bing Crosby, who as now crooning _I'll Be Home for Christmas_, the sound occasionally drowned out by the thumps echoing from the second floor. "The kids weren't settling down, so Karen told them they could have a pillow fight, and it's a bit loud up there," she complained. "She thought they would have tired out by now, but they woke up our bullfrog here. Oomphf, he's getting heavy."

An over exhausted Will blinked back the tears in his eyes, lying his head on his mother's shoulder, clutching Doggy in one hand. "Your brothers and cousins are way too rowdy, huh?" Mulder murmured, abandoning his glass on the coffee table in order to take hold of his son. "You need to show them who's boss."

"Bullfrog held his own," Scully remarked, softly brushing back Will's hair. "He got in a few good wallops."

"That's my boy," Mulder proudly responded, grinning at his son before giving his partner an adoring gaze.

That was the exact moment in which she knew her partner hadn't only been thinking about all he had lost.

He was actually thinking about what was right in front of him.

They stood there in silence, smiling at one another as the fire flickered in the foreground.

Scully searched his eyes, finally saying, "You look happy."

"That's because I am, Scully. More than I ever thought possible."

He bent down to kiss her, Will still cradled between them, snug in his arms. She leaned towards them on tiptoe, balancing herself with a hand on each of his elbows. "I have so much to be thankful for," he softly said before bending down to kiss her.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Thinking over the day's events as she got into bed later that evening, Scully realized she was uncomfortable with the fact that Marita had caught the tailend of her and Mulder's kiss in front of the fireplace, perhaps even more so than the scene her half-sister had walked in on in the laundry room. One of the difficulties of being a private person, Scully had found, was the heightened sense of invasion that came with having a near stranger as a house guest.

But she was trying. And she was able to finally prove that point to her brother-and herself-when she invited Marita to spend the night after learning her flight home had been delayed. "You could get to know the kids, and me and Karen," she had offered, realizing that if Marita accepted, she would now owe her sister-in-law a rather nice Christmas present. "If the weather holds, we'll be taking them to the neighborhood tree lighting in the afternoon. Only if you don't have other plans. I know you're busy."

Marita surprised her by agreeing, and Scully had soon found herself finding some suitable pajamas for her. They stood in front her bedroom bureau, searching for sweatpants and an old t-shirt, Scully trying not to think about the strangeness of the scene. "Do you think these would work?" she asked Marita, holding up some clothes.

Looking up, she saw that Marita was engrossed in the interlocking framed photos of the children. "That's them," Scully confirmed. "The little girl is Emily."

Marita nodded. "She looks like you," she answered before thanking her and braving her way to the third floor guest room, which Charlie had cleared out of earlier.

Scully knew that Marita was probably just being polite; after all, what else was she to say? They hadn't talked enough during the course of the day to finish up loose ends of a conversation. She hoped that they would end up getting along, if only to end this initial stage of awkwardness.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Sorry if we woke you," Mulder sheepishly apologized to Marita as he wrestled Will into his sneakers. "I think we forgot to mention last night that some of us are early risers."

"I was up," Marita explained, stifling a yawn. "And I made some coffee. I'm usually out running by now."

"Why don't we take this to go and you join us for a walk?" offered Mulder, motioning for her to hand him the toddler's fleece jacket before pointing out the cupboard where the travel mugs were stored. "I need to talk shop with you for a minute."

Will looked suspiciously at the blonde as his father fumbled with the stroller; unpacking it uncaffeinated was always a struggle. The one-year-old held up Doggy for a moment before quickly bringing it back down towards him, unsure as to whether he could trust his aunt with his most precious possession. "Cookie?" he finally asked before sticking his fingers in his mouth.

Mulder chuckled. "Nice try, Will, but I don't think she's going to fall for it," he told his son, lifting him into the carriage. "It's Cheerios for you, buddy."

But by the time he stood up, he faced a confused Marita, holding a chocolate chip cookie, and quickly looked back down at Will, who was greedily extending his hand for the treat. "I'm impressed, slugger," Mulder remarked with a hint of amazement in his voice.

"I guess—well, I mean, he said"

"It's fine," he smiled, not used to seeing Marita flounder. "But this never happened, if you catch my meaning. If his brothers get wind of this, we'll never hear the end of it."

"Right."

They left the house and walked in silence for a few blocks until Mulder finally announced, "I'm leaving the Bureau."

Marita stopped short. "Excuse me?"

Mulder turned around. "You're excused," he dryly replied before crossing the street.

Thirty seconds later, she caught up with them. "What's happening here? Why?"

"I had no idea you were so invested in my career," he remarked, taking in the panicked look on her face. "Since you're so good at shutting me down all the time and all."

Once they reached the park, Mulder sat down on a bench, turning the stroller so Will sat facing him. He fiddled with the diaper bag, producing a cup full of Cheerios, along with some juice, for his son. Will ignored the food, content to lay back in his seat and eat his cookie. Mulder suspected that he might be ready to go back to sleep once he ate, which would brighten his prospects of returning to bed that morning.

Stuffing his hands in his leather jacket, he said to Marita, "I didn't mean to sound so harsh. My head's not in the game anymore. Too much is at stake, and I'm not risking my family. I need to get out, the sooner the better, but I'm going to need your help to do it."

She nodded, a dazed expression still on her face. "So you want to leave it all behind? No more searching for answers?"

"The answers will still be out there," shrugged Mulder, taking a sip of his coffee. "I just won't be asking those questions anymore."

"What about Samantha?"

Mulder winced, leaning over to sit his elbows on his knees; he had expected this question, but it still threw him for a loop. He drew a deep breath before continuing. "The plan would be that I stop asking questions, searching for answers, I leave the Bureau and everything it entails behind. No more crusades, no more investigations, no more rattling doors. In return, I'm guaranteed the safety of both her and her daughter. But in order for that to happen…"

"Blackmail," Marita sighed, holding her mug more tightly. "Senator Mathison, I assume? The director? Others?"

"Yeah, the usual suspects."

"I'll need a couple of days to confirm a few things, Mulder," Marita requested. "But I'll do it."

"Would...would you in be a position to monitor Samantha's safety? And to let her know that I'm doing this to protect her?" Mulder didn't necessarily want to know the answer to that question; if Marita became a regular presence at family functions, he didn't know whether he would be able to handle not asking her about her sister. But at the same time, he needed a clear conscience in moving forward with his decision.

"Not directly, but yes, I can guarantee it. From multiple sources I trust. And I can ensure that she will get the message."

Mulder nodded. That was probably the best possible option. "Would it be safer for Samantha this way? I mean, compared to what I'm doing now?"

"It would," Marita firmly answered.

He hoped she wasn't lying.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When her mother-in-law called while Mulder was at the Bureau with Kyle and Peter, Scully thought she would ring off promptly. Instead, Teena asked her to bring to the hotel a pair of reading glasses she had accidentally left behind. "I have to leave for the airport in an hour," she stated.

After explaining the errand to the others, Karen requested that she tag along, as she needed to pick up a forgotten prescription at the pharmacy. "You two can manage for an hour? It shouldn't even take that long, but I could bring Will with us. He would sleep in the car," Scully asked Charlie and Marita. "All of them should be napping for a good while yet. We don't have to leave for the tree lighting until four."

Charlie shook his head. "Don't wake him up. Leave him here with us," he assured his sister, knowing how much easier it was to complete errands without having to wrestle with a carseat. He was also afraid of how his wife would react if he took Dana up on her offer.

Despite having gotten along well with Marita all morning, Scully relieved to have some space away from her half-sister. She and her siblings had been trading stories about the Captain in between settling squabbles over plastic knights and dinosaurs. Marita had even visited the playground with them, pushing Will on a swing and watching the boys run around like crazy. "I want to hate her, but she's _nice_," Karen complained as soon as they were in the car. "I can't quite figure out her personality. She's just so polite."

"She's probably not completely comfortable with us," Scully remarked as they made their way to the hotel.

Karen sighed. "I can't figure out how she can stand Charlie," confided Karen, slumping in her seat. "But maybe I'm just jealous that she can get through to him and I can't."

Scully just nodded, a lump forming in her throat. She felt the same way.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

As soon as his wife and sister left, Charlie stood up to grab his jacket. "I hate to do this to you," he said to Marita. "But I need to run out. I promise I'll be back soon. I want to get Karen something nice for Christmas, and Mulder recommended this jewelry store a few blocks away. Would you be okay with the kids?"

Marita looked alarmed. She had never spent much time with children, and the past few days had been the longest she had ever spent with a group of pre-schoolers. "What do I do?" she meekly asked.

"Just play a game with them," Charlie suggested. "Nathan and Noah will be bossy enough. They have tons of toys upstairs. I promise I'll be back in less than thirty minutes."

Despite not understanding how her half-brother would be able to gauge the length of his trip during one of the busiest shopping days of the year, Marita just shrugged and agreed. After he left, she wandered into the living room, looking at the photos on the mantle. Although she noted how all the boys were rather photogenic, what really struck her about the pictures were how happy everyone looked. She had spent countless hours as a child wondering what it would be like if she lived with her siblings, and after having spent Thanksgiving with them, albeit as an adult, she felt wistful.

Going into the weekend, she had known her sister to be a reserved person, which made Dana's attempt to welcome her into the family all the more meaningful. She hadn't expected the invitation to extend her trip, and she enjoyed the opportunity to get to know both her siblings and nephews better. While she didn't think that they would instantly become a modern day Brady bunch, she felt they were making progress towards some sort of familial relationship.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a resounding cascade of giggles coming from the second floor. Marita took a deep breath and ran up the stairs, hoping that her first foray into babysitting wouldn't be too traumatic. "Hi guys," she said to the two older boys, both of whom wore guilty expressions.

"Hi," Noah answered blankly, before turning back to their toys.

Will's cries from the next room distracted her, and she returned with the youngest child a moment later. "Do you want to play a game?" she asked with a cheerful tone. "What's your favorite game? You get to pick, Noah."

"Hide and seek!" he jumped up.

"Hide and seek it is, then," she agreed. "Do you want to hide and I'll find you?"

After Noah instructed her to count to one hundred, and Nathan assured her Will would be able to play too, Marita closed her eye and counted. She crept around the room, trying to find her nephews, but saw no sign of them. She wondered about the protocol for finding small children; should she pretend they won? Should she give them some time before she announced she had spotted them? Wandering around the second floor, she heard some loud whispering, and knew that there was a small person hiding in the bathroom. After checking Will's room, she spotted a pair of legs hiding under a blanket on the floor. After a few moments, she realized that she couldn't find a third little boy.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Scully left Karen waiting in the car as she ran into the hotel to find her mother-in-law. As promised, Teena was waiting in the lobby, perched on an overstuffed arm chair with a cup of tea. "Thank you," she politely said, holding out her hand for the glasses. "Can you sit for a moment? I asked you here because I had something to say."

She sank down on the opposite chair, prepared for some sort of lecture, half-expecting a lecture on her decision to return to work after the New Year. Instead of droning on about the advantages of a nanny over daycare, Teena surprised her by starting off with, "I was wrong about you."

Scully slightly sat up, wondering whether the punch line would be a compliment or an insult, or both. "How so?"

"Yesterday, you and Fox were rather, well, physical I think would be the right word," Teena continued. "And I'm not talking about _that_. He's happy with you, happier than I ever thought he would be. He wasn't like this during his first marriage, and he never really was the same after the divorce. When I first met you, I thought you were a bit cold, and when I found out about your marriage—well, I thought that it wouldn't end well for my son. Another disaster, another devastation. But now I know that's not the case. I've been accused of a lot of things since my daughter was taken from me, and I haven't always made the best parenting decisions. But I do care about my son, fiercely. And now I know that you really are taking care of him, and my grandchildren."

Scully froze, completely stunned by Teena's speech. She had always been curious as to whether Mulder's mother was aware of the perception others had about her, and it was clear that she was cognizant of the criticisms surrounding her retreat from reality during her son's adolescence. "Thank you," she said softly, drawing her eyes down to the table. After a moment, she added, "Mul—Fox really loves you. It means a lot to him—and to me—that you spent Thanksgiving with us."

"You are good mother, Dana," Teena remarked, getting up from her seat. "I just wanted to let you know that."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"What?"

Mulder stepped on the gas as he heard his informant-turned-sister-in-law's voice crack. "I can't find Will."

He looked in the rearview mirror and suddenly banged a U-turn. "Whoah, Dad!" he heard his oldest son cry out from the back seat.

Ten very long minutes later, Mulder pulled into his parking space in the back of the house, noting that the door was open and unlocked. Within seconds, Scully careened into her space, looking panicked. "I just got here," he told her as they ran into the house.

"What exactly happened?" Mulder placed his hands on Marita's shoulders.

Scully felt an adrenaline rush when she learned of the circumstances surrounding Will's disappearance, running upstairs while calling out for her bullfrog. As the seconds went by, fury began to build within her. As much as she wanted to lash out at Marita, she knew that was the worst possible reaction to act upon. "Nathan, where did Will go?" Scully asked her middle son, who was playing with some trucks with Noah.

"Over there," Nathan pointed to the hallway.

After a few more questions, Scully could tell that Nathan and Noah truly did not know anything. She closed her eyes, trying to remain calm. "Anything?" Mulder asked her as he pounded up the stairs. She shook her head.

"The back door was open," he said solemnly. "And the baby gate was not blocking the staircase."

This time, Scully was unable to hold back her anger. "What the fuck was she doing? Where's Charlie?"

"Not now," Mulder reminded her, trying to anchor his eyes to her own. This couldn't be happening, he thought, hoping against all hope that there was a simple explanation, that Will was still in the house, safe and sound. "We'll deal with all of that after we find him. We're going to check every closet and small space in this house as quickly as possible, then we call the police. We're not going to waste anytime. I'm sure he just crawled into a small space and fell asleep, okay? I'll take the first floor and you take upstairs. Karen is up on the third floor now."

She nodded, running into his room, getting down on the floor to search under each piece of furniture. Every time she saw a stray blanket, her heart raced, and it plummeted when only toys or clothes came into view. She barged into the guest bedroom, fumbling through Karen's things, calling out for her son. Racing to her own bedroom, she came face-to-face with Marita in the hallway. Ignoring her, Scully opened the door, and heard a voice ring out, "Bullfrog! Bullfrog!"

"His name is Will!" Scully snapped, her blue eyes icy. "His name is Will, damnit. You do _not_ get to call him bullfrog."

Scully turned around, heading to her bedroom, as both Karen and Mulder appeared from opposite directions, watching the sisters face off with one another. "I thought—I thought—I'm sorry," Marita whispered, completely confused. "This can't be happening again, I can't go through this again."

Suddenly Bandit ran into the room, barking ferociously. "I thought I barricaded him in the dining room," Marita complained. "He was going crazy up here earlier. I'll take him out."

"No," Mulder vehemently disagreed, taking hold of the puppy's collar. "Bandit, we need to find Will."

The dog wagged his tail and headed towards the master bedroom with full force. Mulder chased after him, finding Scully practically underneath their bed. Bandit jumped onto the closet door, scratching it mightily. Mulder leapt into action, asking Scully for something to pick the lock. "The door's sticky," he explained, unfolding the bobby pin she handed him.

"Bullfrog! Are you in there?" Scully called out, only to be met with silence.

The bobby pin snapped, causing Mulder to swear. "If I bust open the door," Mulder began, "I risk hurting him if he is in there."

Scully's eyes grew wide. "Let's get the hand saw in the basement. Stand up on a chair and do it by the top of the frame so we can peak in."

"I'm on it," Karen promised, quickly returning with the tools.

Slightly shaking, Mulder sawed off the top of the closet door, praying to the God in which he didn't believe that Will was peacefully sleeping on the other side of the wall. He worked as fast as he could, throwing chunks of wood onto the bedroom floor. After carving out a large enough piece to peak down the length of the closet, he carefully handed the saw to Karen. "He's in here," Mulder called out seconds later with a sigh of relief. "Bullfrog?"

Scully recognized the sobbing that sounded out as Will's don't-wake-me-up cry. "Thank God," she cried, still shaking.

Karen handed Mulder the tools back, and he continued to saw through to the doorknob, carefully peeking over to make sure Will wasn't anywhere near the blade. When he was finally able to open the door, Scully rushed past him, settling on the closet floor, scooping Will up into her lap. "Its okay, bullfrog," Scully soothed him, motioning for Mulder to join them.

"Let's go," Karen told Marita. "They need to be alone."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After a fifteen minute cuddle, Will looked much better, much to his parents' relief. Mulder knew that his partner was on the warpath, and not wanting the sisters to outright destroy the fragile relationship they were forging, told Scully he would talk to Marita, who practically cowered when she saw Mulder enter the living room. Leading her into his office, he shut the door behind him. "I am so sorry," Marita apologized. "We were just playing hide and seek. I didn't mean for things to get out of control."

She was surprised when Mulder answered her without yelling, shouting, or swearing. "First rule with toddlers is never to let them leave your line of sight for that long," he told her. "Yes, what you did was stupid, but I'm not concerned about that right now. You need to tell me the truth."

"What?" Marita asked, once again puzzled.

"Upstairs, what did you mean by 'this is not happening _again_,'" questioned Mulder, his hazel eyes darkening.

Marita flinched, positioning herself defensively. "I think I know what it meant," he continued. "Were your referring to Emily?"

She looked down at the floor, shifting her weight onto her other leg. "Yes," she softly admitted.

Mulder crossed his arms in front of him, chewing the sides of his mouth. "Are you saying you were in a position to save her?"

Silence.

"Answer me!" Mulder demanded, his anger and frustration growing. If what he suspected was true, Scully would be devastated. Additionally, everything they had planned for would be on the line. If they couldn't trust Marita, he might not be able to negotiate his exit from the Bureau.

Marita looked up, tears in her eyes. "Yes," she admitted. "I knew how to cure her."


	47. Chapter Forty Six

A/N: Thanks for everyone's reviews and support! I know there have been long lags between posts, and I appreciate your patience. Please let me know what you think!

XXXXXXX

"I knew how to cure her."

Mulder felt the blood rush from his head when heard Marita repeat her words. He swallowed hard, leaning against his desk, his arms crossed in front of him. "And you did nothing."

There it lay between them; not a question, but an accusation. It was clear from the tone of his voice and his body language that there was no room for doubt in his mind. He wasn't interested in hearing her side of the story; she had given him an opening, and he was going to take full advantage. "You let a three-year-old girl die."

"That's unfair," Marita shakily countered. "It wasn't that simple."

His blood boiled. She couldn't have it both ways: to be able to make vague statements and then immediately backtrack, as though her hurtful words fell underneath a blanket of immunity. Bringing up Emily's name under such circumstances was akin to sacrilege, and Mulder was determined to do the little girl justice. He had failed her once, and he wasn't about to do so again.

"But you are obviously feeling guilty enough about it. Is that why you suddenly wanted a relationship with Scully? To make yourself feel better?"

"No!" Marita yelled, with her eyes closed and her fists clenched. "Emily…it was more complicated than that."

Something snapped inside him. Instead of confronting an in-law he barely knew, someone he had to accommodate and treat with kid gloves, he was working a witness, trying to push the right buttons in order to draw out a confession, all before his adversary could even realize what she was saying. It was not until that moment that he realized just how much he wanted—he needed—Marita to say yes. He needed to be absolved for bringing Marita into their lives. Bubbling under the surface of his guilt complex was his penchant for egocentrism; and while it was one thing to rue the day during which he sought out the meaning of Mr. X's bloody message, it was another to be constantly trying to forget the one night stand he had shared with the woman who ended up being his partner's sister. And he was just self-centered enough to suspect that Marita's motivation wasn't so much her wish for a family reunion with her long-lost sister, but to get back at him.

"I can understand complication," Mulder icily said, grimly satisfied with her slightly chastened look. "Please continue."

"My position at the UN puts me in contact with those who conduct advanced medical experiments. Many of these procedures could be considered unethical. The technology exists, Mulder. But at a very high cost. She would have survived, just to face a lifetime of follow-up procedures. She would have continued to have been a human guinea pig. She wouldn't have been guaranteed any quality-of-life."

"This was not your decision to make," he argued.

"Yes it was," Marita snapped. "I'm the one who kept her safe as long as possible. I'm the one who made sure she wasn't brutally murdered like her adoptive parents."

"You should have told me about her," barked Mulder.

"It would have put you and Dana in danger," she warned, visibly reddening. "You have to trust me that I'm not out to fuck with you."

"Yeah, because you already got that out of the way," Mulder snapped.

Scarlet-faced, Marita stomped out of the room. Knowing she had outstayed her welcome, she headed to the living room, where she had stored her things in anticipation of her flight back to New York. Debating whether protocol dictated that she slip out unnoticed or leave a note, she hesitated long enough that she came face-to-face with her sister.

"Thank you."

Marita stepped back, surprised by Scully's words. "I overheard what you just told Mulder," Dana continued, her hands slightly trembling. "You watched over Emily. You did what you could."

"It wasn't enough," Marita said ruefully.

Scully shyly nodded in agreement. "I feel the same way about her. Some days it isn't so bad, and other days it's all I can think about…I shouldn't have yelled at you earlier. You were trying to help."

They stood in awkward silence in the hallway. "I had cancer," Marita listlessly explained. "When I was at the Sorbonne. Dad made arrangements for my treatment. I had a transplant…from biological material that was harvested from you. You saved my life. And I just wanted to do the same for Emily."

From down the hall, Mulder watched the two sisters stand together in silence, unable to find solace in the fact that it had never been about him at all.

XXXXXX

Mulder held onto Nathan's legs tightly, looking up to make sure that the three-year-old was still securely perched on his shoulders. They hadn't left for the tree lighting as early as they had initially planned, and were relegated towards the back of the crowd. Nathan in particular was concerned he wasn't going to be able to spot Santa Claus, and didn't relax until his father was able to prove to him that he would be able to see the stage clearly.

"Getting excited, buddy?" Mulder asked Nathan who bounced in response, causing his father to wince. The children's choir in front of the unlit tree had been leading the crowd in song, and Nathan wasn't shy about making up the lyrics as he sang along. Mulder could have sworn he heard his son mentioning trains, dogs, and Elmo, just as much as Santa, presents, and snow. He turned as carefully he could to say something to Charlie, who was toting Noah on his own shoulders, when the crowd erupted.

"Santa! Santa!"

Scully's eyes sparkled when she saw the look of awe and joy cross Nathan's face when Santa and Mrs. Claus climbed onto the platform, waving to the crowd. "Mommy, mommy, mommy!" Nathan pointed. "Look!"

"I see Santa Claus, monkey!"

Scully nervously glanced over to her right, where Will was atop Karen's tall frame; it had been the first time he had been out of his parents' grasp since his escapade earlier that afternoon. She had wanted to do the honors, so to speak, but his view from her arms would have been at the sea of fleece parkas in front of them. "Do you see Santa, bullfrog?"

Will turned, a huge grin plastered on his face. "Santa!" he smiled, kicking his heels, before sticking his fingers his mouth, turning his attention back to the ceremony.

Satisfied that the children were happy, Scully found her thoughts wandering back to Marita's abrupt departure that afternoon, and the revelations that she had shared. It was a lot to process: the role her sister had played in Emily's life, the fact that she too was a cancer survivor: the small details that would normally bring estranged family members closer together. Instead, they stood side-by-side in silence, Marita finally stating she needed to get a cab to the airport. Surprisingly, they had shared an awkward hug once the car arrived. "Tell Mulder he doesn't need to blackmail Senator Mathison. He should talk to his attorney about the insurance policy."

"Thank you for helping us," Scully replied, dazed as she tried to read between the lines. "Will you let me know when you are back in Washington? I'd like to talk. No business, just family."

Marita nodded. "That would be nice."

"Rudolph!" she could hear Noah shout from Mulder's left, snapping her attention to the proceedings. Sure enough, an elf was awkwardly wrangling a creature onto the platform.

"Is that a horse?" Mulder asked her, clasping his hand into her own.

"Rudolph's a reindeer, Daddy!" scolded Nathan matter-of-factly, his eyes never leaving the stage.

"Are you sure?" teased Mulder. "I thought Rudolph was a zebra."

XXXXXXXX

"Can you say thank you to Aunt Karen?" Scully asked Will after Karen handed the baby to her once the ceremony ended. They were waiting for the crowd to thin out before approaching Santa, Mrs. Claus, and the elves, who were handing out candy canes in front of the newly-lit tree. She overheard Mulder trying to convince Nathan to give his own shoulders a break, setting the toddler down on the ground, only for Nathan to take the opportunity to push through the crowd, impatient to meet Santa and Rudolph.

"Anytime," Karen said, tweaking Will's nose as Mulder ran past them, hot on Nathan's heels. "He's a lot lighter than Noah. And dare I say, cuter. What do you think, Charlie?"

Scully caught sight of her brother's grimace, and the ensuing silent conversation between him and Karen. "I'm not really broody," Karen confided to her after Charlie turned his attention away from them, in search of Mulder. "But it drives him crazy when I drop hints like that."

She wasn't prepared for the pain that jolted through her upon hearing Karen's offhanded comment. Although she knew that her sister-in-law hadn't intended to be malicious, the casual demeanor in which she spoke of the subject bothered her. She needed to stop taking things so personally, she chided herself, pressing a kiss on Will's head. No, she corrected, what she _really_ needed to do was to stop feeling so jealous. "Let's go see Santa Claus," she said to Will, looking around for Kyle and Peter.

XXXXX

"I met Santa!" Nathan exclaimed to older brother and cousin during their walk back home. "And I pet Rudolph. He's my friend."

Scully was thankful that the older boys acted interested in what Nathan had to say, and she detected a hint of jealousy on Peter's part. When Kyle had announced that he was too old to get a candy cane from Santa and Mrs. Claus, the seven-year-old had quickly agreed, wanting to emulate his idol.

As they waited to cross the street, Nathan tugged his mother's hand. "Does Rudolph have a mommy and daddy? And brothers?"

"I'm walking back a block. I think we dropped something," Mulder called out as the light changed, retracing his steps with Will in tow.

Coward, Scully thought, struggling to volley Nathan's questions. "Does he like candy canes too?"

"Carrots," she remembered. "Rudolph and the other reindeer like carrots. We should put some out for them on Christmas Eve, don't you think, monkey? So they can have a snack just like Santa?"

"Cookies are better," Nathan argued. "Carrots are veg'bles."

"Maybe we should put out both," she suggested.

"No. Rudolph likes cookies. He _told_ me."

"He's worse than Peter ever was," Charlie muttered under his breath, avoiding his sister's glowering as she unlocked the front door.

Nathan's questions didn't lighten a bit during dinner and bath time, and by the time the three-year-old fell asleep, Scully's head pounded with the realization that the next thirty days would be filled with reindeer questions and trivia. As much as she wanted to encourage her sons' curiosity, she was overwhelmed by the prospect of years of this kind of parenting that stretched before her.

"I'll find some reindeer information online tomorrow," Mulder promised upon seeing her descend the stairs, bedraggled, as though he could read her thoughts. "It might give us a break from trains, at least for a little while."

"At least we know trains. Well, at least we know them _now_," Scully pointed out, leaning against him as he massaged her neck.

"Remember when we thought dinosaurs would stick? That lasted maybe three days."

"I think that's going to be Will's thing," she predicted, trying to concentrate as Mulder's hands descended down her back. "He wanted to read the stegosaurus book again tonight."

"Do you think Kyle will ever figure out that we have a stack of X-Men comics under our bed?"

"And that we quiz each other every night?" she chuckled.

"You know," Mulder began, continuing to knead his hands against her. "We're very lucky we don't have boring kids."

"And that they are obsessive, yet open minded?"

"Not to mention kind and generous," he reminded her, pressing a kiss to her neck. "We're just very lucky."

XXXXXXX

Maybe it was inevitable that he would always be tied to the basement, toiling in the shadows, the extent of his work unappreciated and unseen. It served as both a blessing and a curse, a paradox only understood by a handful of people, most especially his partner. Now that he had finally shed the burden of the dusty depths of the Hoover building, he was taking on a new responsibility: the secrets lurking underneath the ground floor of his own home.

Mulder turned off the overhead light, tracing the faint cracks where the new drywall and floorboards met along the length of the room with a flashlight. Preston switched the bulb back on, calling the quartet's attention to the ground, where the original floorplan was marked with painter's tape. "When you think about the decisions that were made in this room," Mathison sighed. "It's really quite something."

Wanting to respect the fact that it was a holiday weekend, Mulder had tried to temper his curiosity about Marita's message, managing to hold off contacting his attorney until Sunday afternoon. Preston had arrived within an hour of his phone call, his greeting a solemn "I didn't think we would get to this point so quickly."

By the time his lawyer had explained the provisions contained in his grandfather's will, Mulder understood why he was never allowed down in the lower depths of the townhouse as a child. A primitive recording system had been installed within the walls and floorboards, taping everything that had occurred in the office his grandfather had kept. Clandestine meetings brokered among those who were never to be seen in public together; backroom Congressional deals, back channel discussions among foreign emissaries, political wheeling-and-dealing. After all, the location of the townhouse was prime property, as it was close to many embassies and consulates and members of the Washington elite, all under the guise of a residential neighborhood.

"We moved to this house because it didn't have any ghosts," Mulder sighed, ruminating over the irony of the situation. He ran his hands down his face, frustrated.

"But what if it's a gift, and not a ghost?" Scully pondered out loud, reassuringly rubbing her partner's back.

"And that is exactly what your grandfather intended this as," Preston had responded, this time with a smile. "He was a very wise man."

He knew that time was short, and arranged for Mathison to visit that night. Despite having carefully reviewed what he would say to the senator several times, Mulder wondered whether he would be revealing too much. After receiving reassuring looks from both Scully and his attorney, he turned his attention back to the politician. "My grandfather made copies of these tapes, and they are sitting in safe deposit boxes around the country. His will stipulated that under certain conditions, they be released."

"And I should be certain this information will be embarrassing and will have consequences not only to peoples' reputations, but also to the world economy?" Mathison asked, rocking on his heels. "The information, I presume, will also question all governmental policy decisions of the past sixty years?"

"Yes, on all those counts. And these conditions I mentioned," Mulder continued. "Also include my death, or the death of any children I may have. I also have the authority to release the tapes."

The senator sighed. "What about your sister?"

Mulder shook her head. "This was written after she was taken. She wasn't mentioned anywhere, and all other family members were excluded as beneficiaries. I was the sole heir. My proposal is this: I leave the Bureau, I stop asking questions, I become a private a citizen, if my sister and her family are guaranteed their safety. Otherwise, the tapes will be released. All of them."

Mathison nodded. "I think it will work. Thursday night, I have my annual holiday benefit for the children's hospital at the Hay-Adams Hotel. Stop by at eleven o'clock. I'll gather a select group of, lets call them generous donors, all very powerful men. You'll be able to make your announcement then. I'm sure we'll be able to find mutually agreeable terms."

"Thank you."

"Have you given any thought as to what you'll be doing next?"

Mulder rocked back on his heels, drawing a deep breath. "I've been approached by several universities over the past few years. This summer, the chair of the psychology department at Georgetown inquired as to my interest in taking a tenure-track faculty position. He hinted that it was an open offer, and I'll be contacting him once this meeting is over."

"You know I would highly recommend you, Fox," Mathison said approvingly. "And if that doesn't work out, give me a call."

XXXXXXX

Despite not having felt the need to go to Mass since her return to Georgetown, something inside Scully sparked the idea of attending when she noticed the small church around the corner from Nathan's nursery school that advertised a daily service soon after his drop-off time. It took her a week to gather enough courage to step through those doors, and afterwards, she toyed with the idea of making her visits more regular. Although Mulder had asked nearly every Sunday morning for which he was home whether she wanted to go to church, she had always said no. It wasn't that her faith had been shaken, or that she had lost interest now that she had a family to spend time with on Sundays. She was ready to admit to herself that the reason she stayed away from services was because of its reminder of her relationship with her mother.

More than anything, Scully was frustrated with herself. She had always taken pride in her independence and stoicism, and she felt disappointed that those characteristics had faltered to the wayside over the past few months. She wanted her children to see her as someone who took action when faced with challenges, not as someone who ignored their problems.

While she had mixed feelings about returning to work, she thought that at the very least, it would help her regain her confidence. But as she struggled with her doubts while her appointment with human resources about her return to work loomed in her midst, she felt herself more and more drawn to the small church. The weekday service offered twenty-five minutes of respite, and she gladly took refuge, especially in light of the subterfuge Mulder was preparing to commit later that week.

Usually she slipped in and out without speaking to the handful of parishioners also in attendance, but on that morning she found herself face-to-face with the priest after spending a few moments searching for Will's dropped mittens. "Your name is Dana Scully," the older man softly said with kindness in his voice.

"Yes," Scully responded, her defenses raised.

"I didn't mean to startle you. I didn't think you would remember me, but we met once before. You were a patient at GWU Hospital a few years ago."

"I was," she confirmed, searching the diaper bag for some crackers to keep Will from fussing.

"My name is Fr. Kelly. I was a chaplain there," he said, sitting down next to her on the wooden pew. "You were quite ill, you might not even have woken up while I was in the room. I spoke briefly with your husband. He struck me as a Joseph. That's why I remembered."

He noticed the look of confusion on Scully's face. "A Joseph," he repeated, nodding his head towards the creche display at the front of the church. "He never left your side that night. He believed. The nurses didn't have the heart to turn him away."

Although it looked like Fr. Kelly would continue to speak, he stopped himself, sensing that the subject was too painful for the woman in front of him. Her eyes immediately became downcast, and she shifted her son onto her lap, burying her face in his hair. He instead shifted gears, cheerfully saying, "This little boy here must be your son."

"This is Will, our youngest," Scully responded, absently brushing Will's hair away from his eyes.

"We're having a special children's service next Saturday at four. A way to tell the Christmas story and explain the meaning of the season. It will only be about a half-hour. Please think about attending with your family," urged Fr. Kelly.

She froze, unsure of how to reply to the invitation. "I'll think about it," she promised, moving to get up. Just as she was about to hoist Will onto the floor, she stopped, once again looking at the priest. "I—," she began. "I know this might sound strange, but please don't tell anyone I was here."

"Does your husband not know?" he asked with concern.

She shook her head. "No, in fact, he's been encouraging me to attend. And he's not even Catholic," she said, cracking a hint of a smile. "What I referred to, well, there's been an estrangement with my family. My mother is active with her church."

Fr. Kelly held up a hand. "It's none of my business, unless you want to tell me, of course," he assured her. "Just think about joining us. I wanted you to know that you and your family are welcome."

"Thank you," Scully responded, finding herself believing him. As she walked out of the church, she felt lighter than when she had entered a half-hour earlier.

XXXXXXX

Both Nathan and Kyle arrived home from school with notices regarding strep throat outbreaks. Scully knew that illness would be inevitable, and braced herself for the worst. She hovered over the kids for the first part of the week, constantly checking for symptoms and making sure they didn't abandon items that they had chewed or licked, only for them to be picked up by their brothers. By Tuesday night, it was clear the children were growing unappreciative of her vigilance, and as their moods soured, she wondered whether their crankiness was an indication that they were ill. It was all but confirmed for her when Nathan didn't put up a fight about being put in time out, and Kyle neglected to complain that she had served chicken for dinner.

As soon as the kids were finally in bed, she started another cleaning binge, wiping down the countertops and tables, and putting most of the plastic toys aside for disinfecting. She wasn't about to let their household go down without a fight; in any case, these tasks were a distraction from worrying about Mulder's meeting on Thursday night.

"Why don't we just have Bandit lick it all?" Mulder asked, perplexed by the assembly line spread through the kitchen.

She cringed at the thought, begrudgingly admitting to herself that despite her best efforts, the boys and Bandit ultimately shared their toys—and germs, even when everyone was healthy. "You know," he suggested, his voice low. "I could try disinfecting you. Just to be safe, of course."

She flashed him a tired yet somewhat sultry smile as he pressed his lips on her clavicle, his five o'clock shadow scraping her neck. She instinctively massaged the back of his head, letting out a soft moan when he began to bite down. He pushed her against the counter, his hands running down her sides before slipping under her sweater.

They reluctantly broke apart when they heard a clattering from the direction of the staircase. "I just threw up in my bed," Kyle whined, a sheen of sweat having coated his face since they last saw him a half hour earlier. "I told you I wasn't feeling good. Nobody ever believes me."

"Nausea and vomiting are common with strep throat," Scully explained, slipping into doctor mode, ignoring her stepson's comment; it wasn't worth arguing with him that _she_ was the one who thought he was sick, and not the other way around. Although Kyle hadn't complained about a sore throat earlier, he also hadn't eaten much dinner and had been fairly subdued all afternoon. She opened a cabinet and pulled out a thermometer, sticking it in his mouth. "I'll leave a message with Dr. Brockheimer's answering service. We'll get you antibiotics tomorrow morning."

Kyle suddenly tossed the thermometer on the tabletop before running to the closest bathroom. Scully sympathetically winced when she heard him retching in the toilet, while his father paled. "Maybe I should clean up the bedroom," Mulder offered, making a face as he headed upstairs.

After reminding her partner to bring the disinfectant with him, Scully went into the bathroom, where Kyle was sitting on the tiled floor, Bandit loyally resting his head on Kyle's leg. "You have a fever, sweetie," Scully told him calmly as she ran a washcloth under cold water, wringing it out before placing it on her stepson's forehead. "Do you still feel nauseous?"

The eleven-year-old nodded. "It hurts when I swallow," he added.

"I'm going to give you something to drink, and once you keep that down, I'll give you some medicine. Your throat probably won't feel better until the antibiotics kick in, but it should help a little. We'll get you to the doctor in the morning. Let me just check your throat now."

Kyle nodded, clearly miserable. After examining him, she knew he had strep throat. She settled on the floor next to Kyle, who was lying down. "I know it hurts," Scully murmured, rubbing his back.

"I'm not a baby," he argued listlessly.

Scully rolled her eyes; there was no question as to whether he took after his father when he was sick. "Your stomach needs to settle now, but just wait here and I'll get you some toast and ginger ale and some medicine, okay?"

"I'll do it," Mulder offered. He had been standing at the doorway unnoticed for several minutes, taking in the sight of Scully in doctor mom mode. In their pre-parenthood life, Mulder had always marveled at watching Scully interact with hurt and ill children while on a case, especially impressed with how she earned their trust. He knew that her role as a stepparent was not always easy, and he greatly admired her determination to persevere the difficulties they had encountered. But what particularly touched him at the moment was the tenderness with which she administered to his son; how she silently sat with him, making she he wouldn't be alone.

"Should I be looking for something in particular?" he asked, pointing to the discarded pile of medication, tea bags, and other odds and ends piled on the bathroom counter. He looked a little overwhelmed, trying to memorize the details for future reference. If all went to plan, he would be the one taking over sick day duties come January.

"We need antiemetics," she instructed, joining him at the doorway, her eyes not leaving the sick child.

"Anti-what-et-tics?"

"Antiemetics. Anti-nausea medication. I can only find half a dose in the medicine cabinet," Scully distractedly requested. "But I bought some right before you went to Boston—can you check your travel kit?"

"Okay," he answered, confused as to what exactly he was looking for, and quickly brought down his travel bag. When Scully pulled out some Pepto-Bismol tablets, he complained. "Why couldn't you just say you were looking for Pepto?"

"Because it technically isn't an antiemetic, but it's the closest thing," she explained. "You just can't rely on brand names, Mulder."

"Are you suggesting that pharmaceutical companies and chain drugstores are in collusion, trying to rip off the American public?" he asked flirtatiously as he joined her and Kyle on the bathroom floor, pulling Scully's legs on top of his own.

"It's not a conspiracy Mulder. In a free market society—"

"Can you guys stop? You're giving me a headache," Kyle slurred.

The three of them stayed in the cramped bathroom until Kyle was able to hold down some toast and ginger ale. Scully directed Mulder to bring Kyle into the guest room on the second floor. "This way we can check-in on you, and you can just shout if you need anything," she reasoned. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

"What's the diagnosis, doc?" Mulder asked as soon as they were in the hallway.

She could see the concern in his face, and she rushed to reassure him that while it wouldn't be pleasant over the next couple of days, Kyle would be fine. "It's definitely strep," she explained as they made their way back to the first floor. "I got a good look at his throat, and it's nasty. Hopefully the vomiting is due to that, and it's not a separate virus. Kyle told me this afternoon that Danny Byrne on his basketball team has a habit of drinking out of everyone's water bottles during practice, and he was out sick today. And if Nathan is anything like his brothers, his crankiness today was the precursor to the chaos."

"Are you saying that misbehaving before getting sick is genetic?" Mulder asked suspiciously.

Scully smirked, putting her hands on her hips before taking a deep breath. "Apparently it is, at least with your sons."

Mulder cocked his head, a suspicious smile playing on his lips. "Are you implying, Scully, that I act like a spoiled little brat right before I get sick?"

"Before, during, and sometimes after," Scully good naturally shot back, pleased that she had made him feel better, and turned her attention to cleaning up the mess she had made on the bathroom counter. "Don't act surprised, Mulder. Stop sulking and bring him up a can of ginger ale and a straw. And some Saltines."

"So your anti-edible-what-a-nautics should help?"

Scully turned around, sensing the nervousness in his voice. "Yup. This is all normal, Mulder. Nothing to be afraid of. He'll have a rough couple of days, and we just need to make sure he stays hydrated. I just hope the other two hold out before we get to the pediatrician in the morning. I don't have anything I can give them for nausea," she explained. "Anyway, the pharmacy is closed. We could be in for a long night."

"We've had long nights before. And in much dire circumstances. At least we're indoors, with electricity," Mulder announced, wanting to remain positive. "This won't be so bad."

He began to have second thoughts about his statement after walking into the guest room; somehow, Kyle looked more miserable than he had earlier. "You still don't look too good there, bud," Mulder sighed, crouching down next to him. "Do you want some more ginger ale?"

"No," the boy muttered, reaching extending his arm to pet Bandit.

"Yes," Scully corrected him, entering the room with some additional washcloths she had grabbed from the bathroom. "You need fluids, and the carbonation will help settle your stomach. The Pepto should be kicking in soon too. Just five sips, and then I'll give you the Triaminic, which will help your throat. The doctor will get you the good stuff tomorrow."

Surprisingly, Kyle dutifully sipped his straw, and didn't complain when he was given his medication; he would clearly do anything for some relief. Once he settled back down on his bed, Scully lay a fresh towel on his forehead. "Do you need anything else from your bedroom tonight?"

Before he could answer, Nathan noisily clambered into the room, rubbing his eyes. "What's the matter, monkey?" Mulder asked him. "You need to go back to bed."

"No, Bandit, play," he said, his voice heavy with sleep, pointing to the puppy curled up at Kyle's side. The husky had instinctively known that something was wrong with his master, and had dutifully sat by him all night.

"Bandit's sleeping, so you need to be quiet," Scully told the three-year-old, pressing her finger to her lips.

"No, I want Bandit!" Nathan demanded, collapsing on the floor, bursting into tears.

Mulder rolled his eyes. "Let's go, Nathan. Kyle's sick and Bandit's trying to make him feel better. Give Bandit a hug, and you can play with him tomorrow."

"No! I wanna—"

"_Nathan_," Mulder's voice signaled his patience was tried. "Stop it."

He unceremoniously picked up his son, arms and legs flailing while crying out for the dog, and carried him across the hall.

Once she was certain that Kyle was settled, Scully peeked her head into Nathan's room. Mulder was awkwardly sprawled on the boy's bed, Nathan's head on his chest. "I think he's feverish," Mulder whispered in defeat. He was beginning to catch onto Scully's theory that whining could be a symptom of illness.

"I'll find the Children's Tylenol," Scully sighed; it would be a long night. She spent the next half hour alternately checking in on the sick boys and thoroughly cleaning the bathrooms. She dared to sneak a peek at Will, relieved to see he was sleeping heavily, his blanket rumpled around him. She doubted that he would escape illness altogether, but at least she and Mulder didn't have three children sick at the same time.

She snapped to attention when she heard Mulder yell her name, with an urgency in his voice that she hadn't heard in some time. She abandoned the cleaning supplies and ran over to Nathan's room, where she saw a disgusted Mulder covered in vomit. "He got sick," he lamely explained.

"Nathan, let's get you and Daddy cleaned up," Scully sweetly said to the three-year-old with a soothing voice.

"I'll put in another load of laundry," Mulder mumbled, wondering whether his children were conspiring against him.

XXXXXX

"You don't feel too good, monkey, huh?" Scully asked Nathan once she got him in the bath.

"Bandit!" he cried.

She had to admire her son's stubbornness. He wouldn't let anything go, not even when he was sick and miserable. "You can play with Bandit tomorrow," she promised him.

"No."

She ignored his sobbing and instead concentrated on scrubbing him down, only speaking when Mulder entered the room to hand her a tumbler of Pedalite, crackers, and some fresh pajamas, before making a quick escape to finish the laundry. He was catching on quick, she thought. With three children, she knew it was inevitable that they would have many nights like this in the future, and it was comforting to know that he innately knew what they needed and when. He was right, she thought; it was like being out in the field again, them against the world; only now they were in the comfort of their own home.

"Monkey, drink this, please," she urged Nathan, handing him the plastic mug.

Surprisingly, he didn't put up a fuss, taking it without complaint. "Don't drink too fast," she warned him, bracing herself for another round of vomiting. "Try eating this. Slowly."

Ignoring her, Nathan scarfed down the saltine. "My tummy hurts," he told her, his eyes once again welling up with tears.

"I know, monkey," she said, helping him out of the tub and drying him off with a towel. "I know."

Although he always carried some doubts about his own parenting skills, Mulder felt particularly helpless at the moment. While he didn't relish doing multiple loads of pungent laundry past his usual bedtime, he would rather slave over the washing machine than clean up bodily fluids, a fact that made him feel a little guilty. Armed with fresh linens, Mulder made up Nathan's bed, checked in on the two sleeping children, and wandered back into the bathroom, where he witnessed another tender scene: Scully, sitting up against the wall, Nathan's head lying on her lap. While his partner was sleeping, Nathan was awake but clearly groggy.

Mulder immediately chastised himself for becoming so impatient with his son earlier that evening; like his older brother, Nathan was just sick and miserable, and wasn't trying to be naughty. "Hey buddy," Mulder carefully lifted him up. "Feeling any better?"

Nathan didn't answer. "Let's get you to bed," he said, taking him to the master bedroom. "Do you want to stay here with me and Mommy?"

The three-year-old nodded. "Uh-huh," he managed to say. "Woofy."

"I'll get him for you, monkey."

XXXXXX

Mulder didn't usually sleep through his alarm, but the blaring sound jarred him from a deep sleep. His first few attempts to silence the clock proved fruitless, so he ended up yanking the cord from the outlet, the plastic device clattering on the floor.

He awkwardly shifted to his side, his mind foggy enough that he was taken by surprise at the sight before him: two toddlers, practically covered from head to toe in stuffed animals and torn blankets, and presumably, somewhere on the other side of the bed, his partner.

He lay down flat on his back, pushed aside by the surprisingly fierce force of a stubborn and sick little boy. Despite his sleepy state, Mulder reacted quickly enough to prevent Will from accidentally kicking his brother in the face. Mulder reached over to grab a tissue from the nightstand to dab Will's nose. Unlike his older brothers, the nineteen-month-old hadn't been sick to his stomach, instead waking up at 3:30 AM with a nasty cough and cold.

"I think your brother is trying to take the bed all for himself," Mulder murmured under his breath to Will, watching Nathan quickly roll over and spread his limbs over the spot where his brother had been sleeping. Somehow, Nathan's forty inches managed to take up the majority of the king-sized bed.

Uninterested in his father's attempts of conversation, Will promptly shut his eyes, letting out a small cough, sputtering some phlegm on his father's grey t-shirt. Mulder reached for a tissue, knocking the box onto the floor. "Damnit," he muttered, setting Will down as he tried to pick it up. Once he lost contact with his father, Will let out a piercing cry, causing his father to flinch.

"Help me put them in the car?"

Scully had jumped out of bed, and was already starting to replace her pajamas with street clothes.

"What?" Mulder asked, startled.

"Clinic hours at the pediatrician's start in forty-five minutes. If we're there when they open, we'll be ahead of the game," she frantically called out from the bathroom. "I'll take Will and wake up Kyle if you can get Nathan into the car. Make sure he has Woofy."

He couldn't remember a time he had seen Scully so energized in the morning without the prospect of caffeine or sex. He didn't have the wherewithal to question her judgement, and since she had taken the not-so-easy task of waking up Kyle, he decided not to question his marching orders. After spending more time than he cared to admit hunting down Nathan's stuffed dog among the debris on the bed, he carefully picked up the three-year-old, hoping that he was no longer nauseous.

"Are you okay by yourself?" Mulder asked after they had herded the kids into the SUV, unsure as to whether he should have offered to take on doctor duty before now.

"I'm fine," Scully promised him, tiptoeing to give him a kiss. "Don't feel guilty. You got the brunt of the hard work last night. I got more sleep than you did."

"Maybe I should be getting the practice in," he stammered. "This will be me next month."

"Mulder, I don't have the time to convince you that I'm okay with the fact that you need to show up at work once in a while," continued Scully with a wry smile. "Especially this week. I'll call you with an update later."

"Let me know if you need me to come home early," he said.

"Of course," she said, giving him another kiss before climbing into the driver's seat.

Mulder waved until they were out of sight, momentarily at a loss for his next step, only moving when he heard the dog scratching at the door. While waiting for Bandit to finish sniffing around outside, he glanced at his watch. Finding it was still much earlier than his usual morning departure, he now had some time to himself, and was left utterly confused as to how he should spend it.

Although he had spent a majority of the previous night wishing for a little piece and quiet, the silence within the house did not sit well with him. He helplessly wandered around the kitchen as the coffee percolated, exchanging confused glances with the puppy. "I miss them too," he told Bandit, throwing him some Cheerios since Nathan wasn't there to do it himself. When transferring the laundry that had been sitting in the washing machine into the dryer, Mulder eyed the linen cupboard in the corner of the room, and knew exactly what he needed to get done before he left for work.

XXXXXX

Secretly, Scully hoped for some less-than-perfect behavior from the three boys—not necessarily anything extreme, but just enough brattiness to incentivize the staff at the pediatrician's office to usher them out the door as quickly as possible, preferably with prescriptions in hand. Will hadn't stopped whimpering since she had strapped him in his car seat, although Nathan uncharacteristically slept throughout the car ride. But by the time she transferred them into the double stroller in the parking garage, both boys were in full-fledged crying mode. Although he wasn't in tears, Kyle was clearly in a lot of pain, and she practically had to drag him behind her as she ushered them into Dr. Brockheimer's suite.

The physician's assistant who checked them in didn't show much sympathy for her plight, and a quick look around the waiting room showed at least two other parents who were managing multiple progeny, all of whom who were sprouting tears, coughs, and whines. Scully tried to size up the competition, wondering whether there was anything that would judge her brood more favorably than the others. She unbuckled Will, who was practically throwing himself out of the stroller, which prompted Nathan to follow suit. As they jockeyed for positions on her lap, she turned to Kyle, who was sprawled over two of the less-than-comfortable chairs, zoned out and pale. "Do you need something for your stomach?" Scully asked for the third time that morning.

"No," he muttered. "My throat really hurts."

"I packed Gatorade in the diaper bag," she said, nodding towards the basket underneath the stroller. "It won't help the pain, but you need to drink something. You're dehydrated."

"I'm not thirsty," he insisted.

She rose her voice slightly. "That's because you're dehydrated," she explained. "Five sips, now."

"I don't want to," Kyle whined, but one look from his stepmother sent him scurrying underneath the stroller in search of a drink.

Scully watched Kyle like a hawk, pleased that he was drinking more than the requisite amount, and relieved that he showed no signs of nausea. She was soon distracted by Nathan, who was trying to push Will off her lap, bopping his younger brother on the forehead with his cast, causing Will to let out a shrill scream. "Stop it," she told her sons, kissing Will's forehead and enfolding Nathan into a hug.

She quickly looked up, wondering whether she needed to apologize for the boys' behavior, but no one had seemed to notice. In fact, most of the other parents were in similar situations, too busy corralling their own cranky children to pay any attention to them. By the time their names were called, Nathan had fallen back asleep, protesting when his mother gently shook him awake. "Let's go, monkey," Scully prodded him, taking his clammy hand while toting Will on her opposite hip. "Kyle, it's our turn."

Scully could have sworn she saw a flicker of amusement cross the face of Dr. Brockheimer as they tramped into the exam room. While in med school, had she ever taken any sort of perverse sense of satisfaction in seeing parents struggle with sick children during her clinic hours? She couldn't remember, but she surely hoped not; otherwise, she was finally getting her comeuppance. "Strep," Scully announced as the doctor closed the door.

Brockheimer nodded, not looking up from his clipboard. "All three?"

"I couldn't get a good look at Will's throat," she admitted. "But the other two are definitely a yes."

She launched into a clinical description of their symptoms over the past twelve hours, prompting "hmmm" and "yups" from Brockheimer, who still refused to make eye contact. Scully wondered whether she had made a mistake in her choice of pediatrician; Brockheimer had been a passing acquaintance during her residency, and although she had never worked directly with him, he had a reputation as an excellent diagnostician. But her initial judgment was confirmed after he cultured all three boys' throats. "I called in the prescriptions for the antibiotics after you checked-in; I know you usually use a pharmacy in Georgetown, but I took the liberty of filling it downstairs. I thought I would save you an extra trip," he sighed. "I am warning you, there's also a nasty flu going around, so I would suggest keeping them home from school, daycare, whatever it is they do all day, for the rest of the week. Their immune systems are compromised enough. I swear, I've seen every kid in the DC area since Thanksgiving, some of them more than once."

"Thank you," Scully told him. "I appreciate you being so proactive with the prescriptions."

"Not my usual style, I will admit," Brockheimer explained. "But you know your stuff, and you have never been known for unnecessarily medicating your patients. The cultures are just a formality. However, I am going to have to take blood samples."

XXXXXX

Even if the boys weren't spitting images of their father, there would be no doubt as to their paternity after watching them react to a simple blood stick. Somehow Kyle had grown paler, and immediately started to whine that his entire arm was hurting; Will reflexively began to kick every time the doctor approached, and Nathan tried to run out of the room twice, so keyed up that he didn't even notice when Dr. Brockheimer finally jabbed him.

Everyone was pretty miserable by the time they got back to the house. "You need to eat, take your medicine, and then sleep," Scully ordered as she awkwardly set down the bags from the pharmacy, Will having refused to be set down on the floor. "Nathan, where did you run off to?"

"Not here," she heard a hoarse voice call out from the other room.

Scully entered the living room, smiling when she saw the blanket fort. She awkwardly crouched down, ignoring Will's whimpers. "Knock knock," she said. "Can I see you for a second, monkey?"

Nathan hesitated. "Okay," he agreed, opening the flap.

Scully poked her head in the tent, where Nathan sat in the midst of a mound of pillows, his favorite blue blanket, George the monkey, and the other toys he had dragged into his parents' bed the previous evening. "Daddy did a good job, huh, monkey?"

Nathan nodded, his eyes droopy. "Why don't you come out to the kitchen for some soup and some medicine, and then you can come back here and play with Woofy and George?"

XXXXXX

It took some coaxing, but she managed to convince Nathan to have some soup and crackers, preparing for a fight when it came time for his medicine. However, he was surprisingly complacent when it came time for his dose of penicillin, which took his mother aback. She figured that he was fascinated by the medicine dropper, which he had seen Scully use with Will during the countless courses of antibiotics he had taken for his ear infections. The magic of the device had most definitely worn off on her youngest child; at the sight of the plastic tube, Will began to howl.

"I get to use it too," Kyle announce as Scully washed it after administering Nathan's dose.

"Of course," Scully smiled, perplexed by her stepson's request; as the oldest, he usually wanted to be as different from his brothers as possible.

Over the course of the afternoon, Scully quickly learned how differently the three children reacted to being sick. She already was well-acquainted with Will's clinginess, which she hoped he would soon outgrow. Nathan was just plain crabby, refusing to emerge from his fort. Kyle betrayed a rather low tolerance for pain, as he constantly complained about his symptoms. "I think I have the plague," he argued when read the label on his antibiotics. "This isn't strepto—strep—"

"Streptococcal—" Scully supplied, turning off the television that Mulder had moved into the guest room that morning while they were out.

"Streptocoto," the eleven-year-old incorrectly repeated. "When do I find out about the tests the doctor did?"

"His office will call if it's something other than strep," Scully reassured him, handing him a thermometer. "Otherwise I'll follow-up with them tomorrow afternoon."

"But—"

"Don't talk with the thermometer in your mouth," Scully warned him. "Judging by the number of patients he had in his waiting room when left, his lab is going to be backed up. I'm sure every other pediatrician is seeing the same thing. When I talked to your school office, they said over half your class was out today."

"Good, we won't have a history midterm," Kyle casually said with a hint of relief in his voice, handing the thermometer back to her.

"What?" she frowned, reacting to the 101 reading.

"We don't get tests if more than half the class is absent," he mumbled, playing with his blankets upon realizing what he had just revealed. "I'm sleepy."

"Is that really why Danny Byrne drank out of everyone's water bottles at practice?" Scully asked, folding her arms against her chest.

The corner of Kyle's mouth twitched; not by a lot, but slightly. She had caught him. "I didn't think it would actually work," Kyle offered, throwing the blanket over his face.

"But you studied for the midterm," Scully pointed out. "Your dad quizzed you on Sunday night, and read through the essay you wrote."

"I don't count," Kyle defended himself, tentatively peeking out from under the comforter. "I have a photographic memory."

"And your friends don't know that," she sighed. She was willing to bet that Mulder would have pulled the same stunt in sixth grade, hell, even in college; after all, he had pulled the equivalent adult workplace behavior more than once. Not so much to get himself out of hot water, but to signal solidarity with the underdogs, fighting injustice with subterfuge. "Get some sleep. Hopefully you'll be feeling well enough to have some dinner tonight. I don't think the antibiotics will kick in right away, but even if you aren't thirsty, you need to keep drinking fluids. I have ginger ale and Gatorade on the nightstand for you. Let me know if you need anything."

"You aren't going to yell at me?" Kyle meekly asked.

"No," she promised him, taking a seat on the old chair in the corner of the room, not leaving until he fell asleep. She thought about how his actions were most definitely misguided, he meant well, just like his father.

XXXXX

Mulder couldn't afford to be nervous. After turning off the car engine he sat for a moment, drumming up the concentration he needed to get through the next few hours. The lack of sleep over the past few days was beginning to take its toll. By the time the elevator doors opened at the mezzanine level of the Hay-Adams Hotel, he felt his energy—and his confidence—restored. He strode through crowds of party guests, seamlessly blending into the crowd in his rarely-used tuxedo. "Senator," he nodded to Mathison, who was holding court by one of the bars, slipping him an envelope.

"The sick and injured children of this fine city thank you," Mathison acknowledged the donation with a bow, introducing Mulder to his companions. Soon the piped-in Christmas recordings gave way to a live band, and as couples began to pair off, he heard the senator say, "Never leave a pretty lady alone when the music starts."

At first all he could see was a flash of red, but then Marita stepped in front of him; where others might see a neutral expression, he could tell by looking into her eyes that she was not thrilled about their task. While Mulder had not anticipated her presence, he had learned long ago not to be surprised when she did appear in his life. "I guess I owe you an apology," he softly said as they began to waltz, keeping a close watch on his surroundings for the pre-arranged code that would indicate the direction of his next meeting place. Through the mirrored wall, he could see their reflection, which unnerved him; it was like watching a visual distortion of the truth. "I admit it wasn't exactly gentlemanly for me to have said what I said."

They danced in silence until Marita finally murmured, "You're better at this than I imagined. But this isn't the first time you've exceeded expectations."

He almost responded with the obvious quip; the words were on his lips when he became distracted by a server balancing a tray of champagne flutes centered around a bottle of Dom Perignon. He led them over to the hallway from which the barback had emerged, when Marita stopped him, squeezing his right bicep and pushing her left hand against his chest.

Mulder looked at her expectantly. "I keep my own set of videotapes, Agent Mulder," she warned him before sauntering towards the women's restroom. "You would hate for them to get into the wrong hands."

As he briskly walked down the hallway in search of Senator Mathison's group, he wondered whether his sister-in-law's words were threat or prophecy. One thing was clear too him, however: Marita could not be trusted.

XXXXX

Exhausted, he entered the house five hours after he had left. It wasn't until he looked up from punching in the alarm code that he saw Scully stand before him, her blue eyes wide with anticipation. "Are you alright?"

"You shouldn't have waited up," he mumbled, tiredly throwing his keys on the kitchen counter instead of hanging them up on the hook. After tossing his coat over a chair, he cleared his throat. "It's over. I'll be officially informed tomorrow morning that funding has dried up for the project and all agents will be reassigned by the end of the year. In a fit of rage upon hearing the news, I will tender my immediate resignation. And then we can move on. Finally."

"You've done such good work over the years, Mulder. You've helped a lot of people who wouldn't otherwise have closure," Scully solemnly reminded him, sensitive to the fact that he would feel grief in walking away from a brilliant career. "Are you satisfied with their assurances about Samantha's safety?"

He nodded, unable to sort through his mixed emotions. Sensing his pensiveness, Scully slowly approached, wrapping her arms around him, laying her head on his chest. He held her tightly, waiting for her warmth to envelop him. "I love you," she whispered to him, pressing a kiss against his breastbone.

"I love you too," he murmured. "I can't tell you how good it feels to be home, with my arms around you."

He wasn't sure how long they stood in the kitchen before suggesting that they try to get some sleep. Reluctantly, he separated from his partner. As they broke apart, Scully rested her left hand on his chest and grabbed his right arm, which he immediately snapped back with none of the grace and tenderness of their previously shared moment.

He could only see her lips mouth a response, all of the blood in his body having rushed to his ears, spooked off-kilter by having been touched in the same exact places, in the same exact way, by two women. The fact that one touch was very much wanted and the other unwarranted did nothing to quell his conscience. "I did something to my arm when I was playing with the kids. It's been like this all day," he explained, unable to keep his moodiness—and guilt—at bay.

Scully knew he was lying, but she had no clue as to why.

XXXXXXX

Nathan wandered into their bedroom, feverish and cranky, for the third night in a row, and Mulder seized the opportunity to sit up with his sick son. "Go back to sleep. You have to go to the office tomorrow," Scully sleepily protested, running her hand through Nathan's unruly mop of bedhead.

"And you'll have three sick kids to deal with," he reminded her before scooping Nathan up in his arms and taking him back to his room. "Not to mention me." He spent the next hour making up stories for Nathan, who kept interrupting him with questions. Mulder only stopped speaking when he felt the three-year-old's breathing deepen, hoping that his little boy would finally get some rest. Despite his cramped position, Mulder made no attempt to move, wanting to hold his son as his witching hour passed.

He had made his decisions and set events into motion. There was nothing left for him to do but wait and to pray to the God he didn't believe in that his family would be kept safe.

XXXXXXX

She instinctively gravitated toward him when the bed dipped, anticipating his touch. She waited for his familiar pattern of movement: how he climbed into bed with his right arm snaking under the pillows, then skimming her side until it hit her pelvis; as he rolled to his side, he would slightly pull her towards him, with his left arm tugging the duvet over them both, before settling onto its final resting place on her stomach.

But now, there was hesitation. Scully knew he was behind her, and wondered why he refrained from his customary embrace. Just as he had recoiled from her touch when he came home.

Before Mulder, she had not been particularly demonstrative person; that changed as their relationship evolved. In the beginning, their touches were discreet and fleeting. But every graze, tap, and nudge always left a deep imprint—it needed to be that way, given the amount of surveillance they were under. She remembered the loneliness that would creep over her on those Sunday nights that past spring; the physical and emotional confusion of not having Mulder beside her, as though their weekends spent together were an illusion. How she would have to pretend that he was in fact holding her, stretching those memories through the work week.

Six months later, they had finally reached the point where they were physically affectionate with one another without second thoughts or with fear of reprisal. Although she ached for his touch when he was traveling, her longing was far worse when he was just on the other side of their bed instead of on the other side of the country.

Scully worried about Mulder; he had put everything on the line that night. His quest, which had consumed his entire adult life, was over. He had stepped away for her, for their boys, for his sister. It was only natural that he would need space to process everything that had just transpired. But she knew it was more than that; her intuition told her that something else was bothering him.

Shoring up all of her courage, she turned over to face her partner. He was pensive, flat on his back and staring at the ceiling. "I know you didn't hurt your arm. Do you want to talk about it?" she gently asked.

Ashen faced, he looked at her. "I love you," he said, inching towards her, closing the chasm between them. "Never doubt that."

"I love you too," Scully repeated, tracing his jawline. "I know tonight…it wasn't easy. I don't have the right words. I just know you're in pain. And I want that pain to go away."

"We'll sleep better tomorrow night," he promised, turning them over to their usual sleeping position.

She would never be able to describe why, but somehow, in that moment, his touch felt different.

XXXXX

_Relieved that Will and Nathan were safe, oblivious to the danger, he continued on his quest. He found himself running through a maze of hallways, his heart racing. Despite the darkness, he knew exactly where to turn. He practically skidded in front a bolted door, frantically trying to open it. Knowing that time was short, he ferociously attacked the metal in front of him, finally breaking it open to reveal a staircase. _

_Once he reached the bottom, he followed the beam of a flickering candle. Although it appeared to be close, it seemed to move further and further away as he ran towards it. He jumped back when he initially heard the sound of a child crying, then began to run in the direction of the wailing. Finally, he found himself face-to-face with his oldest son, who had a baby girl on his lap, clutching a teddy bear. _

_"Where's Dana?" Mulder asked breathlessly, clasping Kyle's shoulders. "I need to find her."_

_"Why?" the teenager challenged him. "You're the one who left. Because of her."_

_"I didn't want to leave," Mulder shouted. __"But I had to."_

XXXXX

He woke up with a start, feeling as though he had been punched in the stomach. He rolled over on his back, trying to catch his breath. The bedside clock blinked 4:30 AM. Judging by the adrenaline rush he had just experienced, two hours of sleep would have to be enough for him. Sitting up, he realized that the other side of the bed was empty. Panicked, Mulder jumped out of bed, finding Scully in Will's room. "I'll take over," Mulder told her. "How long?"

"Just a few minutes ago," she yawned, bleary-eyed.

"Sleep, Scully. I'll wake you up when I have to leave," he promised, watching his partner try to untangle herself from their son. "Let's go play downstairs, bullfrog."

"Wait," Mulder said once he had Will in his arms. "You know that I meant I would be leaving for work, right? I'll be coming right home. I don't want to be anywhere else."

Scully looked at him thoughtfully before giving him a hug, relieved that he didn't back away. "I know," she said, with a tinge of wistfulness in her voice. "It's strange, thinking this could be your last day at the Bureau."

Scully felt him relax when Will gave him a gooey smile. She felt a little lighter too, knowing that Mulder _would_ be better once he came home.


	48. Chapter Forty Seven

Hi everyone! I hope you are having a great holiday season so far. Just a warning: this is the longest chapter yet-I hope you like it! Please let me know what you think.

XXXXX

Three hours after he initially left for work, Mulder returned home, no longer an employee of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.

Throughout the drive between the Hoover Building and Georgetown, all Mulder could think about was getting back to Scully and his children; he wouldn't be able to relax until he stepped through the threshold of their home, entering the one place that could keep his family safe. Now that the hard part was over, he wanted to let go of the tension and stress that had prevented him from sleeping and had distracted him from enjoying the company and love of his one-in-five-billion.

But an unexpected obstacle had delayed this long awaited moment.

Exhausted, Mulder loosened his tie, turning to the man who had just pulled into his parking spot behind the townhouse. "I'm sorry it ended this way," Walter Skinner sighed as he handed the keys over to his former subordinate. "Not for nothing, Mulder, they provoked you. And you didn't rise to the bait. Well, actually, you did, but you showed remarkable restraint."

An uncomfortable feeling crept through him. Although they shared an uneasy relationship, Skinner had protected him from the Director's wrath on more than one occasion. He had looked the other way more times than he deserved, and he trusted Mulder's instincts in spite of the younger agent's insubordinate behavior. He had been instrumental in saving Scully's life two years earlier. And presumably, it was out of Skinner's concern for him—having been well versed in his penchant for self-destruction—that prompted the AD to take away his keys and drive him home personally.

But all of that wasn't enough for Mulder to reveal that the events that transpired in the Director's private board room two short hours earlier were all for show.

"I'll make sure that your people will be taken care of," Skinner awkwardly promised. "I don't think I can do anything about your status, though. Assaulting the director's go-to-guy isn't something you can just talk your way out of. And the fact that they took your badge and gun—"

"Just make sure that my team is okay. Especially Alderson—he'll need someone in his corner," interrupted Mulder. "I can take care of myself. I'm done with the Director and his bullshit."

Staring out the window, Mulder wondered whether social protocol dictated that he invite Skinner into his house. As much as he just wanted to thank Skinner and say goodbye, he knew that a curt dismissal might prove to be an unnecessarily suspicious overture. He could always explain that the kids were sick, but for some reason, he didn't think that would be reason enough for Skinner to dump him on his doorstep. Mulder had only himself to blame, he mused; how many times had he evaded and ditched his colleagues over the years, not to mention his partner? No, from where he stood, Walter Skinner would have been a fool if he acted short of delivering Mulder directly into Scully's arms.

They lapsed into an awkward silence until Mulder's phone rang. Before he could get a word out, he heard Scully say, "Is it my imagination, or did I just see you pull into the back?"

"Yeah, give me a second," he answered, hoping that Scully would be able to read between the lines. He had already spoken with her twice by phone since the meeting ended, and to say that she was anxious to see him home was an understatement.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, clearly concerned.

"No, don't worry, it's okay," he reassured her.

She continued to speak, but her voice was quickly drowned out by incessant screaming in the background. "What's going on?"

"I just need you—" Scully began, slightly frantic.

"Something tells me that you don't mean that the way I want you to mean it. What's that noise? Is that Nathan? Kyle? Will?What happened?" Mulder asked, alarmed. "Are they hurt?"

"No, Nathan's closing in on sixty minutes of an epic meltdown, which began when I hung up with you. Two hours of sleep last night wasn't enough for him, and it's certainly hasn't been enough for me. He already woke Kyle up twice."

"Wait, slow down," Mulder interrupted, opening his car door. "I'll be inside in a second."

"I'm just warning you, sir, that things are a little chaotic in there," he explained to Skinner, hoping that the AD would take his leave. He tried not to look disappointed when Skinner just nodded and followed him into the house.

Mulder grimaced as he opened the back door, hearing Nathan's wails loud and clear. Skinner immediately covered his ears, wondering what the hell was happening as they made their way to the kitchen. "Mulder, can you please explain to Nathan that blue sheets are just as good as the Thomas the Tank Engine sheets?" Scully asked loudly but evenly, her back to her partner and guest. She was stirring something on the stove, Will on her hip, clinging to her side. Even from the other end of the room, Mulder could see that the toddler's nose was dripping.

"No. They're. Not!" Nathan hiccuped between sobs, spread out on the floor, clutching his favorite blanket. Mulder could immediately see that Scully hadn't been exaggerating the situation during their call; in fact, she had probably been downplaying it. Nathan was an observant child, and had caught on quickly that his mother was the disciplinarian in the family. This wasn't a display of pure brattiness, meant to test the limits of acceptable behavior, but instead the antics of an incredibly overtired three-year-old who was sick and tired of being sick and tired.

"Nathan, they'll be ready after lunch. You really need to take your nap," Scully calmly told her son, only betraying the slightest bit of exasperation. "And you really, really, really need to stop yelling."

"He's usually not like this," Mulder apologized to Skinner, throwing off his overcoat. "He's been sick with strep throat, and he's just like his mother when he doesn't get enough sleep."

Scully whipped around, reddening when she realized her former supervisor was in the room. "I'm sorry, sir, we're a bit disorganized today," she said meekly. "And cranky too, apparently."

Nathan eyed the guest suspiciously, and quickly crawled up from off the floor, scampering towards his father. "Daddy!" he sniffled, pointing at Skinner.

"What are you thinking, monkey?" Mulder asked, picking up Nathan.

Nathan whispered something to his father. "No, I promise, Nathan," Mulder reassured him. "That's not going to happen. This is what you need to do."

Scully looked at father and son quizzically as they whispered conspiratorially with one another. It was the first time she had seen Mulder so engaged in a conversation in days; due to the the sleepless nights they had endured over the past week, they had both been running on autopilot.

Finally, Mulder set Nathan down on the floor, and Nathan took a few tentative steps towards Skinner. "Can I see some ID?" Nathan asked between sniffles, his eyes still red and watery from his extended crying jag, before looking back at his father. "Please?"

Brushing a few errant locks away from Will's face, Scully felt a smile tug at her lips watching Mulder, fixated on Nathan, transform from worn-and-weary to near-laughter, who tentatively approached the assistant director.

Skinner was clearly not expecting to be questioned by a three-year-old, and he fumbled for his wallet, throwing Mulder a dirty look. "I knew your dad would put you up to something," he muttered, handing over a creased leather billfold to Nathan, who ran over to his father at the chalkboard. Mulder began to write, but low enough so no one but Nathan could see his scribbles.

"Okay, Nathan, you know your letters," Mulder patiently coached his son, pointing to the open wallet. "What does that say?"

"W...S, K," Nathan read, his voice wobbly.

"And do those match these letters?" Mulder asked, pointing to the chalkboard.

"No," Nathan shook his head. "So it's okay?"

"It's very okay. Now give this back to the AD and say thank you."

"Mulder!" Scully called out, suddenly realizing what they were discussing, chagrined that it had taken her so long to figure out the subject of their conversation. Unsure as to whether to be embarrassed, apologetic, or proud, she decided to be all three, and just hope that Skinner would not hold it against her when she returned to work.

Nathan returned Skinner his wallet, thanking him before running back to his father, clinging onto his leg and wiping his face on his trousers. "Can I ask what that was all about?" Skinner asked, still befuddled, his gaze bouncing between his two former charges.

"No," Nathan shook his head, prompting Skinner to laugh.

"Nathan here just wanted to double-check that you aren't Lex Luther," Mulder explained, failing to suppress the broad grin that crossed his face.

"I think that this might be one of your crowning achievements," Skinner chuckled. "And a much better way to end your career at the Bureau, especially after this morning's meeting."

"Okay, Nathan, nice try distracting me, but you need to have a nap, despite the fact that there are blue sheets on your bed," Mulder explained, ignoring Skinner. "And you should apologize to Mommy. You know you aren't supposed to yell when we tell you to do something."

"I'm sorry," sniffled Nathan, running over to his mother, wrapping his arms around her knees.

"Monkey, next time it will be ten minutes in time out instead of five, deal?"

"Deal," Nathan said.

"Okay, I love you, monkey," Scully reminded her son. "And don't wake up Kyle."

"Naptime, kiddo," Mulder announced, pointing to the general direction of the staircase. "And the same goes for you too, slugger."

Scully passed a drowsy Will into his father's arms. "You'll feel better when you wake up, bullfrog."

Unexpectedly, Mulder kissed her. "It's really over," he whispered softly, before disappearing with the toddlers in tow.

"Can I get you something to drink? I have plenty of coffee," Scully nervously offered Skinner, who shook his head. At least he wasn't planning on staying long, she thought. "Sorry about all the drama. Nathan is normally, well, I wouldn't call it low key, but lower key. All three of them have strep throat and colds, so it's been a long week. Kyle's been teaching his brothers about superheroes, hence the confusion. "

"But the real question, Agent Scully, is whether they all take their linens that seriously?"

She laughed, surprising Skinner. He suddenly realized that over the year he had seen her smirk and chuckle, but he never saw her mirthful. Joyful. She looked…_happy_. "Nathan has a special attachment to Thomas the Tank Engine, and laundry time resulted in Nathan's meltdown, and probably would have resulted in mine if Mulder hadn't walked in when he did."

"I think you were handling yourself quite alright, agent," Skinner said approvingly. "I'm sorry to barge in uninvited. I just wanted to make sure that Mulder got home okay. He said he spoke with you about this morning's meeting?"

Scully could feel the hair on the back of her head stand on end. She did her best to maintain her role in the charade, murmuring, "He did. I really don't know what to say about it all." Then she settled in to hear Skinner's rendition of the story, hoping that she would not accidentally give anything away.

XXXXXX

Since Scully had spent her morning impatiently waiting for Mulder to return, she figured that an afternoon of doing the same thing would not be nearly as difficult. At least she was able to keep busy: as she had suspected, the kids had woken up from their naps feeling much better. So while the household crankiness quotient had dropped considerably, the boys' energy levels had increased just enough that she was sorely missing the sleep she had not been getting all week.

When Mulder had finally returned downstairs, long after she had gotten rid of Skinner, it was only for a brief appearance. "I just got off the phone with Professor Wharton at Georgetown. I'm walking over to campus now. He invited me for lunch," he explained. "I thought it was best to make the call today, before I could be accused of not cutting all ties with the Bureau."

She nodded blankly before chewing on her lip and fixing her gaze away from him and onto mess scattered around the breakfast nook. "Okay. Good luck," she murmured, not knowing what else to say.

"You didn't have any other plans, right?" Mulder asked, confused by her hesitation.

Scully shook her head firmly. "No," she reassured him, choosing her words carefully. "I'm just surprised. I thought you were going to give yourself the weekend, that's all. You need a break."

"It's the end of the semester," argued Mulder, not intending his voice to sound as sharp as it did. "I didn't want to leave it until next week, and risk him not even being on campus."

"Mulder, it's fine," Scully interrupted, lowering her voice once she got his attention. "I—we—are both just running on empty, that's all. I'm tired, I didn't mean to sound unsupportive."

"I know—it's been a long week for both of us. I'll be back as soon as I can," he mumbled, shrugging on his coat.

She hoped his four hour absence was a sign of good news. While he didn't need the position for financial reasons, she knew that Mulder would be bored out of his mind within a couple of weeks, especially if he did not have any work on the horizon. Even if lecturing or research weren't to begin until the start of the next semester in mid-January, it would still give him plenty of time to relax and then prepare without interfering with the holidays.

But right now, she knew what Mulder needed most of all was a break from it all.

XXXXXX

By Sunday afternoon, Scully felt conflicted about the promise she made to herself in giving Mulder a couple of days to come around on his own. In the past, he had always respected her need for space, and she wanted to do the same for him. However, she was not sure whether he needed more room, or if she had perhaps given him too much leeway. Unless the kids roped him into reluctantly playing with them, he sat in his home office, disengaged from them all. She had poked her head in a few times, and he always seemed to be staring off into space, silently chewing his seeds. He claimed to have been reviewing items sent by the psychology department—syllabi, reading lists, writing samples from the dozen students he would be advising, trying to wrap his head around the politics of academia. He needed to think in peace and quiet.

She knew his trouble concentrating stemmed from the fact that he continued to not sleep. Instead of talking about it, they had both lapsed into their mutual bad habit of not discussing the proverbial elephant in the room. Scully almost broke her silence that morning, upon waking up to find both Nathan and Will sleeping between them. Again. Only this time, they weren't sick, and since she would have heard Nathan's cries if he had a nightmare, or Will's wails if he had woken up, the only other option was that Mulder had brought them in himself.

Unless they were ill, he always put the kids back into their own beds, not wanting them to get too used to sleeping with their parents. As she stretched out on the bed, she was about to say something about the boys' appearance in their bedroom, when she saw Mulder's bedraggled expression transform into a genuine smile when Will called out for him, holding out his beloved slobby-eared stuffed puppy, which his father gratefully accepted before tickling him into a fit of giggles. It was the first display of genuine emotion she had seen Mulder share since returning home from his last morning of work.

If it were at all possible, Scully could have sworn that scene before her warmed her heart before silently breaking it. She was reminded not only of her partner's love for his children, but also of everything he had sacrificed for them. Until three days earlier, he had centered his entire adult life around his quest for his sister; of course he would need more than seventy-two hours to process everything that had just transpired. In other words, she needed to remain patient.

When he finally emerged from his office—of his own volition—on Sunday afternoon, announcing he was going out for a run, she thought it was a positive sign. When he returned home a couple of hours later, he wordlessly showered before turning his full attention to the children for the first time that weekend, playing with them before dinner, and then spoiling them with extra stories before they went to sleep. Progress, she prayed.

The real test, she knew, would occur during their own bedtime. She stayed up as long as she could, her body still reeling from her lack of sleep over the past week. When she finally said goodnight to Mulder, he did not even look up from his computer screen, mumbling that he would be in his office for a while, having finally made progress on whatever he claimed to have been working. She fell into a deep sleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, only awaking when she heard her partner's yells.

"Mulder," she said soothingly, as she moved quickly to straddle him. It had been weeks since she had to wake him up from a nightmare. She gripped his arms tightly, pinning them to the bed in an attempt to quell his shaking; once she was satisfied that the tremors were slowing, she cupped his face, speaking softly. "You're having a nightmare, Mulder. It's over."

Beads of sweat poured from his brow as his breathing finally slowed. She lifted her hips slightly so he could more easily sit against the headboard before setting herself back down on his lap. Physically, this was the closest they had been in days, and she did not want to give him the opportunity to nudge her off her perch. "It's nothing, Scully," he murmured, trying to wiggle off the bed, doing everything he could to not make eye contact. "Go back to sleep."

"No."

Her sharp tone caught him off-guard, and he hesitated just long enough for their eyes to lock.

"If you don't have the words, that's fine. God knows I don't always have the words. The words aren't the important thing, Mulder. You won't touch me. You won't look at me. You keep leaving our bed in the middle of the night, you bring the kids in so we won't be alone. You're having nightmares. Something is wrong. This ends now. Tell me what's really going on."

As much as Mulder wanted to dismiss her concerns offhand, and blame his dream on the number of incredibly stressful incidents that had befallen them throughout the past six months, he found he simply could not do it. While he would not be able to tell her the entire truth, maybe he could share just enough with her to recalibrate the equilibrium of their relationship. He sat back, taking a moment to regroup. Looking into her blazing blue eyes, he knew he was tempting fate; she would be able to tell if he was holding back, and he was all too aware of those consequences. They both had too much on the line for him to fuck this up.

He instinctively pulled her closer to him, feeling her weight against his hips and lower abdomen, all too aware of the physical effect she was having on him. It had been too long, he thought. He could have had this—her warmth, wrapped around him, all along, but instead, he had chosen to punish himself by pushing her away, and from the expression she was giving him now, he had been punishing her as well.

He kept his grip on her lower back, using all his willpower to not turn them over there and then, and end their week-long abstinence. They had fallen into that trap all too often, using sex as a substitution for speaking, and as much as he wanted to avoid saying aloud his reasons for separating himself from his family all week: her sister, his sister, the phantom child and her absent mother in his dreams.

Anchoring himself by staring into the two wide blue pools before him, he began. "I'm still having those nightmares, the same ones, for the past couple of months. Something bad's happened, I don't know what, but I'm looking for you. The kids are a bit older, and I always find them safe. But I can never find you. Some nights, I have this dream and it's like watching a rerun of an old show, it has no effect on me whatsoever. But other times, it's incredibly intense and…painful."

Unsure of how to respond, she cupped his face in her hands, gently rubbing circles along his jawline. He was holding something back, and she couldn't let him retreat. "What's the worst part?" she asked tenderly, hoping that if he said it out loud, it would release whatever demon he was grappling, never to haunt either of them again. "Tell me."

"The reason I can't find you is…you left, Scully. You left because of something I did. I don't know what it was." He had to leave it at that; he had to say _something_ instead of _someone_. Otherwise, neither of them would be able to stand it, and he would not risk another invisible chasm between them.

"I'm not leaving, Mulder," Scully implored, shaking her head furiously as he spoke. "I'm promise you I'm not—" Before she could finish, he engulfed her into a searing kiss, pouring out every ounce of energy he did not even realize he had left in him. His hands only briefly left her hips as he struggled to shed their clothing, but she felt his imprint there even when his fingers danced up her back, and then down again between her thighs.

"Love you," he murmured, his mouth trailing from her mouth to her breasts, his lips nibbling and his teeth lightly scraping her skin, his fingers still keeping pace below while he thrusted upward. "Need you." She felt him grow rock hard and heavy against her, wondering why they had not made more of an effort—hell, any effort—to make love over the past week. Seven days was far too long for them to not have sex, and judging by the low main in which he said her name, he shared that sentiment. Just as she felt that familiar rush, he flipped them over, his darkening eyes hooded with arousal.

"This way," he managed to say between jagged breaths, kneeling while sliding her up into his lap, a position especially intense when she concentrated her strength in her pelvis as she was doing now, matching him thrust for thrust, her eyes never leaving his, until they both exploded.

He collapsed onto her, physically and emotionally drained. "Love you," she reminded him, whispering her words of adoration in his ear, followed by a kiss, as though she gave him her feelings for safe keeping, quickly locking the door so nothing could tumble out.

XXXXXXXX

"It scares me when I don't know what you're thinking," Scully admitted later, sprawled against Mulder's chest, her mass of red hair tickling his clavicle. "I didn't know whether I was giving you too much space, or not enough."

"I've just been feeling sorry for myself," he admitted, tightening his grip around her, not wanting her to slip away. He inhaled the lingering scent of her green tea soap; they smelled like new, fresh and pure, as though they had just been cleansed from the dirty work of the past week. And they had.

Scully tried to swallow her frustration, as though she could filter it from her voice. "But the nightmares—why didn't you tell me they never went away?"

Mulder shifted underneath her. "They come and they go. My nightmares have always been like that." He spoke casually, making it sound like a reminder instead of a confession. He absently skimmed his hands over her back, a light, soothing gesture. She could not decide whether he was grounding himself by maintaining physical contact, or if he was trying to distract her with the prospect of more sex, catching her off-guard with his staying power.

While she was certainly game for round three, she needed to focus for the both of them, they had put off this conversation long enough. "I hadn't heard you cry out in your sleep in a long time," she pressed forward, carefully navigating them into the more dangerous territory they needed to conquer, despite the risk of disrupting the delicate peace they had only just forged. "It threw me."

"What did I say?" Mulder asked, a tight uptick in his shaky voice. The question sent his mind racing; he had not remembered shouting.

"You kept repeating autumn is chilly, we need to go," explained Scully, perplexed.

"What the fuck?" he cringed, running his clammy left hand over his face. "Were those my exact words?"

She propped herself up, steadying herself by placing her right hand on his chest, her legs still entangled with his. "Autumn is chilly, we need to go," she repeated slowly. "I don't know whether it was one sentence or two, or if that part even matters. Those were your words. You repeated them at least three times."

Unsure whether to be worried or relieved, Mulder instead took solace in the fact that his mutterings did not refer to anything on which he wanted to maintain an absolute silence. "I don't know what that means," he honestly answered as he searched his memory, unable to recall anything in his dreams related to the weather. "From what I remember, it's always dark, but we were indoors."

Scully took in her partner's confused expression, brushing back those stubborn locks that kept falling across his forehead. "Maybe it's not from your dream," she carefully suggested. "I think you've been using the word 'chilly' a lot with the kids."

"I have?"

"You've been rhyming with Will. Like the song from the Winnie-the-Pooh videos—silly willy old bear. You keep adding more rhymes to that. He loves it."

Disoriented, Mulder blankly nodded. He had grown to never pay close attention to the singsongy things that he said to soothe the boys when they were impatient to get in and out of their jackets or carseats. "So now I'm quoting Pooh Bear in my sleep?"

"Maybe not Pooh Bear per se," Scully explained, once again settling against his breastbone, drawing lazy circles on his abdomen, slowly moving downward. "It could be something from one of their movies or books. After a while, it all sounds the same, and you know they love the repetition. You were up at all hours when they were sick, reading them stories. I'm sure you'll hear it again in the next couple of days, now that you're listening for it."

"Probably," he lied, squeezing her closer to him.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

"Mulder, I think you're the only person I know who gets ousted by one employer in the morning, and welcomed with open arms by another in the afternoon," greeted Preston, waving him into his office, brightening when he saw the latte that was put in front of him. "I just need you to sign these papers from the Bureau, so I can get that wrapped up. Then you can go off on your merry way. Did I hear your progeny out there in the hall? I assume my assistant insisted on playing babysitter instead of paralegal."

"But I brought the quiet one, so that should give me some points," countered Mulder, barely looking at the papers he was signing. He quickly began scratching his name next to the dozen post-it flags adorning the pile in front of him. "At least the one who was quietest at breakfast. Speaking of food, are you free for lunch?"

"If lunch consists of the coffee we are both holding in our hands, and can take place exactly where we are sitting, then yes, Mulder, I would love to lunch with you," Preston drolly replied, gesticulating wildly.

The click of his office door got Preston's attention, and he dropped his pen and glasses on his desk, leaning back in his leather chair. "What's wrong, Mulder?"

Mulder dropped back into his own chair, looking down at the ground, playing with his hands, gathering up the courage to continue. He opened his mouth without speaking, chewing on his bottom lip instead. He knew was giving himself away; Preston Baldwin had known him his entire adult life, and could read him like an open book.

"I don't trust Marita," Mulder finally confessed.

He could tell that Preston was holding his tongue, trying to refrain from articulating the first thing that came to mind—and probably his second and third thoughts as well. "Your sister's safety—Langley has been monitoring everything he can, and he hasn't—"

"No, that's not the issue," Mulder shook his head emphatically. "I spoke with Langley at length this morning. For the first time in years, I'm not fearful for my sister's safety."

"Mulder, how many times are we going to discuss this?" Preston exploded, completely exasperated, pushing his chair away from his desk. "Wait, maybe I'm rushing to judgement here. Please, Mulder, tell me why you don't think we can trust Marita. You, who have played the part of her biggest defender over the years. Against my advice, I may add."

Mulder gulped; even in the safe confines of his mind, the words sounded incredibly stupid. "She's out to get me."

To his credit, Preston did not pounce on him immediately. "That sounds too paranoid, even for you, Mulder," he admitted. "But I also know you wouldn't come into my office, bearing lattes and locking doors like this, if you weren't seriously concerned about something. So what are you really thinking?"

Mulder absently twirled the pen in his hand, saying, "She referenced a videotape she has of me."

"Of?"

The younger man shrugged. "I'm not concerned about its contents," he explained. "It's the fact that she's making this personal all of a sudden, getting into my head like this. Everything with her has always been professional, by-the-book. Why would she start with the mind games now?"

Preston scoffed. "You might want to amend that statement, Mulder. Professional, by-the-book?"

Mulder felt his cheeks redden. "Except for that one time," he corrected himself quickly, not wanting to dwell on that particular subject.

"I imagine that you are asking me my opinion on all this because you don't want to bring it up with Dana. My official stance is that this type of circumnavigation is foolish and ill-advised. If you can't discuss this with your wife, you shouldn't be discussing this at all. But my unofficial opinion is this, Mulder: Marita is manipulative, and probably more than a little jealous, so don't make any unnecessary conversation with her—you'll just fall into the rabbit hole, and you can't afford that. Clearly she cares about her sister's happiness on some level. She's gone out on a limb for her, for the both of you, really. But in doing so, maybe she's realized that she missed out on a few things along the way. I'm not telling you this to feed your ego, Mulder. I'm telling you this because you have a tendency to create drama when there is no need for it. Just drop this—her—from your radar. Immediately."

Mulder nodded as he chewed on his lower lip, prompting Preston to continue. "Mulder, did you really think I would give you different advice?"

"I don't know," he quietly responded.

"Mulder," Preston sighed, pushing away the scattered piles of paper on his desk. "I'm the closest thing to a confessor that you have. You discussed this with me because you feel guilty about something, and I'm telling you not to screw this up. I've seen you get divorced once. I bless you, go forth, and be happy with your family."

XXXXXX

As he made his way down M Street, Mulder felt lighter than he had earlier that day, his self-confidence and clarity of thought restored, his burden lessened. Preston had been right in calling him out for seeking absolution, and that he was confessing to the wrong person.

He tried not to think about the miles he had spent over the past several days theorizing why Marita had appeared in their lives. He had no doubt that she was Scully's blood sister, a fact that had been confirmed by Langley, who unabashedly admitted to running a DNA test using china from their Thanksgiving dinner. Mulder had told him to keep the cup, then had passed along the phone to Scully, not wanting to get in the middle of that particular announcement, especially in the early morning pre-coffee hours.

As he had told Preston, his concern about Marita stemmed from their meeting at Senator Mathison's benefit weeks earlier. While the comment about the videotape concerned him, he knew that part was out of his control; after all, tapes could easily be faked. What bothered Mulder was the way she had looked up at him; for a moment, she was a blonde version of her sister, and he had grown just a little too comfortable for just long enough that he lost his bearings. That was a risk he needed to mitigate to the fullest extent possible.

Now that Mulder had Preston's counsel, he could move forward. When he had left the house that morning, with Will in tow, he was not sure what they would be doing besides dropping into Preston's office. Before leaving to take Nathan to get his cast removed, Scully had reminded him of the morning activities the kids enjoyed when they weren't running errands, but he hadn't paid too much attention. All he knew was that after nearly a week of being cooped up inside, both he and Will needed some time out of the house.

After their visit with Preston, they headed in the direction of campus, giving Mulder the opportunity to meet with Professor Wharton, and Will the chance to break free from the confines of his carriage. Since he knew that Scully was treating Nathan to a celebratory no-more-cast lunch, Mulder decided it was only fair to dine out with Will. During their walk home, the display window of a jeweler Preston had once recommended to him caught his eye. After they crossed the street, a sudden thought hit Mulder: he had never before purchased Scully jewelry.

But would she want any? For years, the only piece she wore regularly was her cross necklace. However, Mulder was unsure as to whether this simplicity was due to personal aesthetic, practicality, or both. She had been genuinely touched when he had slipped his grandmother's engagement and wedding rings on her left hand that June, and she had kept her promise to always wear them. Of course, she also wasn't slicing and dicing either.

He needed to get her something new, Mulder realized. As much as he loved his grandmother, and felt strongly that her rings be passed to his partner, he also had to find her something that commemorated their beginning, and their beginning only.

Will was asleep in the stroller, buying Mulder some browsing time. He finagled his way into the brickfront shop, relieved to not find it too crowded. He scanned the display cases, looking for a simple yet elegant bracelet, not wanting to give her a gift that competed with her faith in God or her fidelity to him. His relief over not being hounded by a salesperson soon gave way to frustration for not being helped at all. Right when he was about to give up, an older woman emerged from the back office, asking, "Are you looking for anything in particular, sir?"

Five minutes later, he was looking at a collection of sapphire bracelets. Although he knew what he liked and what he did not, he was unable to articulate the vision he saw in his mind. The sales clerk knew a healthy commission when she saw one, affording him the appropriate advice—and patience. He absently looked at several pieces when Will began to stir in his sleep, forcing his father to move the stroller back and forth to lull him back into slumber. Knowing that time was running short, Mulder thought about just leaving and continuing his shopping on another day, when something caught his eye.

He examined the chain-linked bracelet, his thumb gently swiping across its four stones. At first glance, it was perfect: four sapphires for the four children. But a sudden realization came over him, and he drew a deep breath, knowing he was treading on dangerous ground. Swallowing hard, he asked the clerk whether it would be possible to add another stone at a later time. She shook her head, and as Mulder wondered whether he should put his purchase on hold, the woman held up her hand and left the counter, returning moments later with a box.

"But this one would," she explained, breathing a sigh of relief when he nodded after examining the delicate piece. "We do the work ourselves, but offsite. Our turnaround is three to four days."

As he handed over his credit card, he wondered whether he was tempting fate. Peeking over the hood of the stroller to check on his still-sleeping son, he dismissed those doubts, certain it was well worth the risk.

XXXXXX

"I didn't know what to expect from attending a church service, but that was definitely not it," Mulder confessed after they unbundled the boys, who made a beeline for the living room as soon as they wiggled out of their parents' grasp. "Do you think they'll let us back?"

"While we might have been a bit embarrassed, our sons were found to be more than a little charming," Scully remarked, hanging up their coats and hats, unsure as to how she felt about that assessment. "Three different people asked if we would be attending the next family Mass."

"Will we?" Mulder asked, leaning against the kitchen counter, fiddling with a rubber band he found abandoned on the worktop.

"I don't know," answered Scully, still trying to wrap her mind around the afternoon's events. She opened the fridge, hoping there were enough vegetables to make a decent salad. "Lettuce or cucumbers? What do you think?"

"Let us eat lettuce and the cucumbers are cool," Mulder joked, prompting his partner to roll her eyes. "But to answer your question, I'll chop. And the church thing wasn't terrible. I think the kids liked it. It really wasn't all that different than the story times at the library."

She had not thought of it that way, and Mulder's words reassured her. "You're right," Scully told him as she ran the greens under the tap, suddenly brightening. "At least they didn't kick us out. It was also the longest half hour of my life." Surprising Mulder, and herself, she laughed.

The children's service was geared towards the under five set, and consisted of the telling of the Christmas story followed by birthday cake for baby Jesus. Mulder had surprised her by announcing that he wanted to make it a family event. Scully wasn't sure how he pitched it to Kyle, but the eleven-year-old had accompanied them without complaint and in relatively good humor. They had spent the drive to church reminding Nathan to be on his best behavior; looking back, Scully thought, that was probably their first mistake.

Upon walking into the stone building, Will spotted the creche, and immediately ran towards it, making animal sounds as he pointed to the different statutes. As one of the youngest participants, his antics were received with smiles and chuckles by the other congregants. Nathan's contributions, however, were a little harder to explain. Only a few moments into Fr. Kelly's reading of the nativity story, Nathan interrupted him. "Where's Rudolph?" he innocently asked, his question met with utter bafflement by the priest. The three-year-old took his silence as an invitation to continue speaking. "Rudolph's my friend. He likes cookies."

The pre-schoolers immediately erupted at the mention of reindeer, and all control of the crowd had been lost. Mulder and Scully looked at one another in utter embarrassment and panic, knowing that their son was on the verge of launching into one of his infamous monologues. "Nathan," Scully hissed, trying to get her son's attention without avail.

Mulder knew he needed to act quickly, awkwardly climbing out of his pew to approach the circle of children who were sitting on the floor in front of the benches. "Nathan, come over here," Mulder said quietly, but firmly, motioning his son to join him away from the crowd for a pep talk on polite behavior. "This is like school, and you don't interrupt your teacher, right?"

Nathan shook his head, promising his father he would listen. Mulder stayed put for the remainder of the service, putting a finger to his lips whenever it looked like his son was about to speak. Much to their parents' relief, both boys were able to make it through the rest of the event without incident.

"So we're going back, Dad?"

Both Mulder and Scully both looked up from their dinner preparation tasks. Scully bit her lip, curious as to how her partner would respond to the question. She let out a frustrated sigh upon hearing the shrieks coming from the direction of the living room; her parental instincts told her that its was a he-grabbed-my-toy-I-want-it-back-its-mine yell, which almost always required her intervention.

"I don't know," Mulder responded. "It wasn't that bad. What did you think?"

Kyle shrugged. "It was short," he answered, his father appreciating his honesty. "And there was cake. So does this mean I have to be Catholic like Dana?"

"I think we're jumping way ahead of ourselves, buddy," Mulder answered, continuing to chop carrots. "Neither your mother nor I were very religious, and honestly, I didn't really think much about religion at all until I met Dana. Plus I get the feeling they don't usually serve cake."

"But that's because you don't believe in God."

"No. I don't know whether there is a God. There's a difference," he countered, enjoying the idea of Kyle being old enough to hold his own in such a debate.

"Not really."

"Agnosticism or atheism aside, one of the things I really admire about Dana is her faith. I might not believe in God per se, but I respect her faith and convictions. Sometimes I think I might even be a little jealous of it."

Mulder's cell phone shrilled, and he put up his hand to signal to his son that their conversation was not finished. "Mulder," he tiredly said into the handset, irritated about the interruption.

"So it's official," Marita's throaty voice crackled in his ear. "I understand your new employment was finalized yesterday. And you haven't contacted anyone affiliated with the Bureau since you left. You are doing an admirable job of keeping up your end of the deal."

He stiffened, leaving the kitchen to take the call in his office. As he walked down the hall, he was relieved to see Scully otherwise occupied, supervising a double timeout on the staircase. "What do you want?" he hissed once he shut the door behind him.

"I'm just checking in. Letting you know that people are watching, and they are satisfied with the changes you have made in your life."

"Great. Do you want me to put Scully on?"

"If I wanted to talk to Dana, I would have called her. Meet me at the usual place? There's been an interesting development, and there's an opportunity that I think you would like to take advantage of, and there is only a small window into which to do it. When there is goodwill, Age—Professor Mulder, you should reap its benefits."

He was unsure as to how long it took him to disconnect the call, but he hesitated long enough that he heard the static in his right ear for the rest of the evening. Why had he not immediately said no? Why had he not simply hung up?

Even as he sat there with his phone pressed against his ear, Mulder was unsure as to which he hated more: the fact that he was intrigued, or the fact that he was not intrigued enough.

XXXXXXX

Growing up, Christmas had always been Scully's favorite time of year. But as an adult, an ache would gnaw at her whenever she saw the trimmed trees and garland through the doorways and windows of her neighborhood. It was as if the holidays were only for a select few—those with traditional families, complete with small children—while everyone else was relegated to bystander status, only able to watch the festivities through the frosted glass.

But this year, she would be on the inside, decorating her own home with her own family. She was no longer subject to an unpredictable travel schedule, or in a state of raw pain and mourning for a dearly departed loved one. While Christmas would always be tinged with sadness and grief for her father and daughter, this year she would be able to enjoy the yuletide season.

Three weeks before Christmas, the house was in a frenzy. Mulder had struggled all morning with putting up the too big fir tree, refusing all offers of help. Uncharacteristically, all three boys complacently sat on the sofa, intrigued by their father's task, with Kyle rather unhelpfully heckling his father. While Scully tried to distract the boys with art projects in the kitchen, she gave up after Nathan kept running into the living room every time Mulder's swearing bellowed through the house.

When the doorbell chimed that afternoon, Scully assumed it would be UPS, and rushed to the door, not wanting Mulder or Kyle to come across any hints as to their Christmas presents. While she did open the door to a man and a box, it was not who she originally expected. "My uncle was going to send a courier with this, but I got the job instead," Coop explained, following her into the living room with the package.

He set down the parcel on the coffee table, catching sight of the garland and red bows draped over the mantles. "You guys are going all out," he commented. "The decorations look good."

"Thanks; we're getting there. Mulder just got the tree up this morning," Scully explained, emerging from the kitchen with coffee for both of them, overwhelmed by the scent of pine that she met upon walking into the room. "He's in the basement sorting out the lights with Kyle. He wanted to get them strung before the kids woke up from their naps. We learned our lesson this morning; next year we're going to set-up when they are out of the house."

She nudged the two boxes containing the decorations the kids had made towards the tree. "We finally found the white lights," Mulder called out from the staircase leading to the basement. "Bandit chewed up the multi-colored ones. Do you want me to go out and get more?"

"No," Scully responded, thinking that she would need to get the dog a special treat. Secretly, she found those particular lights tacky. "Get in here. We have a visitor."

She and Mulder insisted that Coop stay to help them trim the tree, and she was glad that he accepted their invitation. Although she didn't know Coop particularly well, she could tell that something was off, and debated whether she should press the issue. She managed to contain her curiosity until Mulder sidled up against her in the kitchen, where she was throwing together an early dinner for the kids. "Is he okay?" she whispered to him, not wanting their guest to overhear their conversation.

"I think so," Mulder answered her seriously. "Elisabeth with stop by and pick him up when she gets back tonight. His—his mother left this time of year, when he was a kid, so when he's not busy, it sometimes hits him hard. His semester ended a couple of days ago, Elisabeth's been out of town, and he gets a bit resentful when he knows Preston's being over vigilant. And he's family."

Slowly, the pieces of the puzzle slid into place in her mind. Now she knew why Mulder had been so insistent that they stay home and decorate the house as a family that particular day; originally she thought that they might brave the crowds and visit a holiday exhibit at the Smithsonian. When Mulder had asked that they reschedule, she assumed he just didn't want to deal with the tourists. She also innately understood why he had not told her of his plan; if Coop were already sensitive as to people's concern about him, an obvious ploy to babysit him would not go over very well. "He is family. You're a sweet man, Fox Mulder," Scully told him, reaching for a kiss. "And you're incredibly thoughtful. But you already knew that."

Will and Nathan were practically bouncing off the walls with excitement, especially upon seeing their own decorations and homemade ornaments hanging from the tree. "I helped Daddy!" Nathan beamed after Mulder plugged in the lights.

"Santa!" Will repeated, running to the tree before his father caught him in his arms.

"You have to be careful," Mulder warned his youngest son.

Scully rolled her eyes from her perch on the floor, where she was admiring the pipe cleaner and construction paper Rudolph that Nathan had made. "If anything, saying that will just encourage him."

"Up, up, up!" Will cried, pointing to the angel on the top of the tree.

"You can't touch it," warned Mulder, not liking the glint in the toddler's eye. He immediately eyed the distance between the couch and the tree, hoping that Will would not dare to test his climbing skills with the Christmas tree. "The tree might fall down, and go boom."

Out of nowhere, Bandit bounded into the living room, heading in the direction of the tree. He excitedly sniffed around the trunk, lapping up the water in the tree stand. "No, Bandit," Mulder scolded the dog, who tread backwards in confusion, causing the tree to sway. Coop and Kyle, who were good-naturedly arguing over what Christmas music to play on the stereo, ran into the fray, catching the tree just before it crashed to the ground.

XXXXXX

"At least nothing caught on fire," Mulder offered after Coop and Elisabeth left later that night, handing Scully a tumbler of whisky.

"Technically speaking, no," Scully offered, her head tilting towards the hearth, enjoying its heat.

Chaos abounded during the hour following the tree debacle. The toddlers were terrified, the dog was skittish, and Mulder was exhausted from following Coop's instructions in engineering a complex web of wires and twine to prevent the tree from taking another tumble. At least no one, human or canine, attempted to approach the tree for the rest of the evening. Will in particular stayed as far away from it as possible, which Mulder took as a positive sign he wouldn't be trying to climb it.

"Maybe the tree is too big," Mulder thought out loud as he joined Scully on the couch.

"It's perfect," Scully immediately disagreed.

They sat in silence, admiring their handiwork, as Bing Crosby's baritone wafted through the living room. The white bulbs provided an elegant backlight to the homemade ornaments, contrasting with the gobs of gaudy silver and red tinsel that adorned the lower branches. "I helped!" Nathan had kept repeating all night, proud of his decorations.

Mulder placed his drink on the coffee table, toeing off his shoes to lie down on the couch face down. With her free hand, Scully kneaded his tense shoulders, his head buried on her lap. "You're tight," she frowned.

"That's usually my line," he bantered sleepily, pressing a kiss on her thigh. "Actually, it's always my line."

She groaned, knowing that she had only herself to blame for that particular world play.

"What's in the box?" Mulder yawned. Up until then, he had assumed it was full of decorations, but Scully had already moved those empty cartons to the basement.

"I have no clue. It's from Preston," Scully said. "It's probably yours. Open it."

Intrigued, Mulder rolled himself off his partner and ripped it open, while Scully sat back, setting her feet on the coffee table, closing her eyes to breathe in the musky mix of pine and smoke. She ignored Mulder when he first bumped his hips into her side, not paying him any attention until he said, "This is for you."

"I don't want to sign anything tonight," she protested, keeping her eyes shut.

"No, Scully, you need to see this," he argued, his voice thick with gravitas.

She sat up, joining Mulder on the edge of the sofa, setting down her drink. "What?"

He looked worried, passing a thin envelope to her. "I don't know how you'll feel about this."

Scully drew a sharp intake of breath upon recognizing the handwriting scrawled on the envelope. Without any hesitation, she opened it, staring at two pieces of light blue stationery. She inanely wondered how much of this paper her mother had hoarded over the years; had she received a lifetime supply years ago, or was it something she sought every few months? From where, Scully did not know, the thought only now crossing her mind. Her father had always jotted notes down on any clean surface he could find, whether it was torn from a notebook or the flip side of a piece junk mail; looking back, it was probably the remnants of his intelligence training. Her mother, on the other hand, had written every shopping list, school absence note, and letter on the same robin's egg colored monogrammed paper.

Despite writing on unlined paper, her mother's penmanship was evenly spaced, running across the pages in perfectly straight horizontal lines.

_Dear Dana,_

_While you are my child, you were always your father's daughter first and foremost, perhaps even before you were born. It is not the time nor the place to discuss the events of the past six months, and I understand that you have learned a great deal more than we ever intended. _

_I cannot say where I am going or how long I will be away; just that I am needed there. While I think of you and Charlie often, I do not worry about you. Ever since you were a child, you have been strong, and I rest easy knowing that you have Fox by your side. Please understand that things have to be this way, at least for now._

_These items are rightfully yours, and I hope they will provide some happy reminders of years past. I've also added what I hope will be welcome contributions to your own family's holiday. I hope these get to you in time for Christmas Eve._

_With love,_

_Mom_

Wordlessly, Scully passed the note to Mulder, his jaw clenching as he read the letter. "She must be going to wherever Bill disappeared to," he remarked. He still had not been able to quite figure out his mother-in-law, who was too close to one child at the expense of her others.

"Oh, Mulder," she whispered, staring at the contents of the box. She carefully rifled through a handful of ornaments from her childhood that she had always love, revealing another layer of items underneath the cardboard tray. She was almost afraid to touch the quilted material, as if they would disintegrate upon contact. "She must have—"

Her voice wobbled before stopping completely. "Let me help," Mulder suggested, gently laying out the items in front of them on the coffee table. "Did she—"

Mulder bit his lip, taking a hard look at his partner. From the angle in which he sat, the flames cast from the fire place flickered across her porcelain skin, perfectly framing her pensive expression. "They're beautiful."

He rested his right hand on her left knee cap, giving it a small squeeze. She placed her left hand over his, feeling Mulder's warmth radiate through her. "They are," she agreed.

They both stared at the handmade quilted stockings. While none of the five entirely matched, they were all variants of the same theme, the colors consisting of forest green, cranberry, and cream, all stitched to perfection.

"Do you think she made all of these?" Mulder asked. He was surprised by the jealousy that had crept through him while he asked the question. While Teena Mulder, at least until her daughter's disappearance, had always decked the halls, if not overly decorated their home, she never had done so much as to sew with her own bare hands.

Scully nodded. "She used to quilt," she explained. "She stopped after my father died. She had been working on something for him when he passed, and as far as I know, she didn't continue with any of her projects. The last item I know she completed was Noah's stocking; she gave it to Charlie and Karen that Thanksgiving. It was the only time Dad met Noah."

"Was this always yours?"

Mulder picked up the stocking which read Dana Kate, giving his partner a quizzical look; it was the first he had heard of that particular moniker. Scully nodded, giving him a shrug. "An occasional nickname," she confessed. "But I think it was aesthetic, more than anything. She wanted all of the stockings to read the same, and a four letter name was too short. She always thought very symmetrically when it came to her quilting."

Tears pricked her eyes as she touched each of the five stockings on the table, suddenly needing to feel a tangible connection to her mother. They were all there, laid out on the wood surface: Fox, Dana Kate, Kyle, Nathan, William, symmetry be damned.

"There's something in the toe," Scully said, reluctantly moving her hand away from Mulder's in order to investigate. She carefully grabbed the item from her stocking, finding an ornament of a ship. "This was one of my favorites."

"At least she has a sense of humor," Mulder dryly remarked, holding up an ornament of a fox.

She quickly wiped her cheeks, reaching for Will's stocking. A wave of anxiety swelled in her stomach as she caught sight of his ornament, and she quickly opened those of Nathan and Kyle. "Should we be concerned?"

Mulder picked up the basketball, train, and puppy ornaments. "If these came through Preston's office, they would be clean, and Langley would have gone through them. I think this is intended as a gift, and while it comes off as creepy…I think she was trying to be thoughtful."

"I hope so too," Scully finally agreed, picking up her drink and sitting back on the sofa, her head on Mulder's shoulder. She closed her eyes, the music swirling around them. "Let's just sit here for a little while."

XXXXXX

He didn't care how incredibly cliched and corny it was; he was determined to replicate what he had seen in countless movies, television shows, and advertisements over the years. He barely opened his mouth before he saw Scully skeptically shake her head; he had no doubt in his mind that she knew exactly what he was thinking.

"The dog would trample over it and—" she halfheartedly protested. Scully didn't know why she was even bothering to argue with him on this point; ever since they gained custody of the boys in June, he had been talking about how they could make this first Christmas special—for all of them. She wanted that too, more than anything; but she also needed to be the voice of reason. If he had his way, Mulder would have bought out the toy store. Within seconds of their arrival, he had pointed to several displays, with all of the awe and wonder of the world in his voice. While she normally hated shopping, this was one trip she would treasure: watching Mulder enjoy himself. He had not admitted to it, but Scully suspected that he wanted to make up for the fact that he had not spent many Christmas mornings with Kyle.

"The dog wouldn't be in the living room before the kids are up on Christmas," he argued with a smirk, knowing full well that Scully was only pointing out the practicalities of such a decision out of force of habit. And he was playing into that same urge by prolonging each exchange with his playful puppy dog pouting. This was them, now, as partners; and he would choose them solving the puzzle of holiday toy shopping over flukemen and creatures in the dark each and every time.

"Nathan already has this—"

"No he doesn't and you know it," Mulder spewed, unaware of how juvenile he sounded until he saw Scully's blue eyes narrow. Looking up, he saw some other patrons staring at them, prompting him to rather sheepishly lower his voice "This one's wooden and the one he has now is plastic."

While she agreed wholeheartedly that it was the perfect Christmas gift for Nathan—a wooden Thomas the Tank Engine branded train set—she reveled in seeing this side of her partner, overworking himself in order to prove it the perfect gift. If she had been braving the toy store by herself, she would have tempered her instinct to immediately put the box in her cart by following her normal protocol of exploring all of the aisles first, before making any selections.

Mulder's way, she had to admit, was more fun.

She could practically picture Mulder painstakingly putting it together underneath the tree. He wouldn't want her to wrap it with a big bow and tag that read From Santa. Instead, he would want to assemble it in the late hours of December 24, so their rambunctious little boy would enter the living room on Christmas morning to see his gift underneath the tree, all ready to play.

"It's also a lot bigger, Mulder. We don't have the room in the liv—"

"Yes we do," Mulder stood his ground, clutching the box even more tightly.

"Whenever you end up stepping on the rails and tripping over the trains, just remember that this was your idea," Scully reminded him, wondering whether this particular gift was more for him than their son. "I just hope the dog doesn't chew his way through them."

At three years old, Nathan was at the perfect age for this particular touch of Christmas magic; still, that left two other children who needed equally thoughtful gifts tucked under the too-big pine tree that occupied a considerable chunk of their living room. They had their work cut out for them in finding presents that would equally excite an eleven-year-old who was questioning how much he believed in the holiday spirit, and a one-year-old, who, while still a tad clueless as to all the intricacies of Christmas, was curious about everything and anything in sight.

"What about a red tricycle for Will?" Mulder suggested after placing the train set in their cart, pointing to a display in the next aisle. "That one over there would match his wagon. And there are scoot—"

"It's too cold for him to use it now," Scully pointed out gently, becoming more insistent upon seeing her partner pout. Two puppy dog poses in five minutes signaled to her that it would be a long shopping trip. "We need to make sure that Will and Kyle's special presents are indoor toys too. Otherwise, it's not fair to them. We should get him the trike for his birthday."

"Good point," Mulder reluctantly admitted, thinking of the chaos that would befall their household if Will were to try to navigate a wheeled contraption indoors. "We'll save it for his birthday. Late March, it should be starting to warm up enough, right?" Growing up with a girly sister, he never had the experience of being jealous over a sibling's Christmas presents.

"Definitely," reassured Scully, slipping her hand into his, giving it a tight squeeze. "You know, I'm not trying to ruin your fun."

"I know," he nodded, knowing full well about his tendency to go overboard. "I just got caught up in thinking of a train set around the Christmas tree."

It took them nearly ninety minutes to loop around the store, picking up and then discarding dozens of items, all while keeping up their playful banter. It had been a rare weekday outing for just the two of them, and rarer still for it not involving doctors, lawyers, airports, interviews, or strollers. They had gone out to lunch beforehand, giving them the chance to unwind together. Scully had never thought much about the difference in their alone time when outside the confines of their home, but she was quickly beginning to realize that it was a nice change of pace.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Mulder tugged on her sleeve to let her know that he found the Lego section. Kyle had told them he wanted a complicated set involving at least 300 pieces, and there were several options on his list that were in stock. Mulder was relieved, wanting to make sure that this was also a special holiday for his oldest son.

"Where is he going to put this together?" Scully asked, putting the set they selected in the cart, relieved they found at least one gift that could be wrapped instead of assembled before Christmas morning.

"My office," Mulder said without missing a beat, thinking of winter evenings spent in the den, pouring over the building bricks, ignoring the abandoned stacks of midterm papers and disorganized lecture notes on his desk. "We can fit that table in the basement by the window. That way we can work on it without the little monsters getting in the way."

Scully could only hope that Kyle shared his father's vision of this gift being a father-son project, and the thought of the two of them bickering over colored blocks with two curious toddlers and a rapidly growing puppy running amok, created a scenario that, in her mind, could only end in disaster.

She steered them towards the preschool section for another look, hoping that they would be able to find something for Will. While they had found some small toys and books for him and Nathan, they hadn't been able to find their youngest son's special present. If she had to guess, Scully would surmise that Will would be just as happy playing with any new toy that involved dinosaurs, stuffed animals or Sesame Street, but it was too early for her to give up just yet.

"I think we might need to rethink the no battery rule," assessed Mulder as they took a third stroll down the aisle of assorted plastic toys geared towards toddlers.

"Nothing too noisy," she warned, shaking her head at a speak-and-say contraption he held up.

Unable to help himself, Mulder pulled the string on the toy and nearly keeled over when the loud bleating of a cow mooed back at him. "If we got this, he would only play with it at five in the morning, right? And only on days when we could sleep in?"

"With our luck, yes," agreed Scully, wandering down the row, stopping suddenly in her tracks.

There it was, tucked in a corner, practically hidden by a display of strollers and carseats: the perfect gift for Will. "Mulder, do you see what I see?"

"Will would love this," he agreed as they approached the rocking horse; well, not a rocking horse, per se, but a rocking dog. He looked at the tag. "The rails are real wood, not plastic, so it should last a while. For ages 2 to 5. We're three months off, but if you won't tell, I won't either."

"This looks a little complicated to put together," Scully cringed, reading the back of the box. There was no question that they would be purchasing it; she just feared for their sanity in setting up another Christmas-related contraption, given their track record.

"All we need to do is slap a bow on this puppy, and it's set to go. Do you think Bandit will get confused?" Mulder asked, talking a mile a minute, his excitement growing at the thought of watching Will on his rocker, the Christmas tree in the foreground, flanked by the flickering fireplace. "This will look nice under the tree with the train set, don't you think?"

"Mulder," Scully patiently interrupted. "You're getting ahead of yourself. This is the display. We'll have to assemble it ourselves."

"Easy," pronounced Mulder. "I'm a jack of all trades, Scully. And I have a ton of time on my hands these days."

She weakly smiled, thinking of the Christmas tree disaster of the previous week, and motioned for him to wedge the box into the cart. "Everything else we find, we're wrapping," she warned him.

XXXXX

It was not as though Mulder had never given a thought as to how Scully spent her weekdays, but after nearly two weeks of not working, he wondered how the hell she got anything done. The kids were constantly on the go, the errands were never finished, and there always seemed to be something to tend to in the kitchen.

He had insisted on taking over the morning shift—getting the kids up, breakfast made, and the school run completed—in preparation for Scully's return to work the next month. Although she ended up not usually waking much later than usual, he knew she appreciated the extra half-hour to herself. "Don't you want to go running?" she had asked one morning when he rolled over to turn off the alarm. "You have the time."

"No," he shook his head, grabbing a pair of jeans from his bureau. "I'm good."

His last morning run had taken place the day of his visit to Preston's office, when he had given his confession, so-to-speak. Running allowed him to clear his head, which was ideal when he was working, especially when profiling. The combination of cold air and endorphins allowed him to tease out his theories, unencumbered by distractions—which was exactly why running was the worst possible activity he could undertake, for at least the time being.

But, like his sons, Mulder needed physical activity to exhaust his energy, so he took advantage of his pending faculty status at the university to play basketball with a pick-up team made up of instructors and grad students a few nights a week. It was an ideal way for him to break the ice with new colleagues without violating one of the many unwritten rules of socialization within academia, and he was surprised to find himself looking forward to their games.

He returned home around dinnertime from a Saturday afternoon scrimmage when he realized they had company. Ignoring the the incessant thumping coming from the direction of the ceiling, and the blare of a Burl Ives video from the living room, the dialogue to which Nathan had quickly memorized and was endlessly repeating whenever the tape was not playing, Scully and Greta Fletcher were sitting at the kitchen table laughing. "Greta brought some homemade mulled wine," Scully told him.

"Just a thank you for letting me hide here for the next few hours," Greta chirped. "My in-laws from hell arrived today, and when I dropped off Dave, your wife took the hint and invited me in."

Mulder took a bottled water from the fridge, slugging half of it before giving a slight wave. "Don't mind me, I'm just a little dehydrated at the moment," he explained, slumping across the kitchen island. "And this is a terrible hiding place, Greta. It's really noisy and loud."

"It's better than sitting at home with my sister-in-law's family," countered Greta, sipping the contents of her mug. "And her ridiculously named children."

Mulder felt Will hit his knees, and wrap his chubby hands around his leg. "Is there a monster on me?" he called out, pretending not to notice his youngest son. Will's giggles filled the room as Mulder kept extending his leg so Will lifted off the ground. Given all the noise he was absorbing from the second floor and the living room, he only vaguely listened to the women's conversation until something got his attention.

"It's a sweet name!" Scully protested. "I agree Genevieve Vivian Louise is a mouthful, but I've always loved Autumn."

"You're supposed to be on my side!" laughed Greta with mock horror. "Traitor."

Frozen, Mulder ceased moving his leg, only pulling it up when Will cried out. "Ssshh," he comforted the one-year-old, picking him up and sitting him on the counter, nearly knocking over his water in the process. While Will happily played with his father's outstretched hands, he swallowed hard, trying to get a better listen as to his partner's discussion.

"Are you ladies having a disagreement?" he asked, his heart racing.

Greta turned around in her seat. "Apparently your wife has crossed over the dark side and agrees with the choice of my niece's ridiculously long name."

"No, only with one part," Scully feistily defended herself. "I love the name Autumn, but not the five middle names. I'll give you that."

"It was actually four, but your point is taken."

"Well, ladies, someone needs to think of the children, so I am going to rescue this little guy from your nonsense," Mulder announced, throwing a laughing Will over his shoulder, needing to make a quick getaway. He settled in the living room, sprawled on the couch, holding both Nathan and Will close when they climbed up to snuggle with him. As the boys lost themselves with the stop motion film, he controlled his breathing, which slowly steadied.

He remembered his dream. He remembered Autumn. She was crying because she was cold.

XXXXX

The look on the boys' faces upon seeing the living room their first Christmas morning would forever be etched in Scully's memory. She knew immediately knew the time she and Mulder had spent assembling and arranging the gifts underneath the tree had been well worth the less than four hours of sleep they snatched. Nathan bounded into their room at the relatively late hour of 5:30, shouting it was Christmas, quickly followed by Kyle, and with Will crying over the monitor, they knew it was time to go downstairs.

Trusting that nothing would keep Nathan from running, Mulder insisted on carrying him, not putting him down until Nathan practically kicked himself out of his arms upon seeing the train set, nosediving into a mound of presents in order to reach the blue Thomas train. "Look what Santa brought me!" he yelled.

"Puppy!" shouted Will, pointing to his rocker, adorned with a red bow, as Kyle ripped open the huge box that was propped next to it.

"This is the one I wanted!"

Mulder settled a grinning Will with his new toy, his youngest son not looking at all interested in anything else in the room, bursting into tears when his father tried to coax him off his rocker.

The two toddlers were fast asleep an hour later, having chased Bandit, who refused to let go of his still-wrapped bone, around the living room. Once they had finally situated Will to finally sit down, he face planted on the rug, out like a light, using Doggy as a pillow. Scully transferred him to the couch, making sure he was in a more comfortable position, tucking a blanket around him, before doing the same with Nathan, who was tightly hugging Woofy, his new train, and a plush Cookie Monster, to his chest. All in all, they only had opened about half of their presents, and Scully wasn't opposed to extending their Christmas morning for as long as possible. She leaned against the couch, stretching out on the floor, enjoying the fire that Mulder had built, wondering whether she could get away with staying in her pajamas all day.

Once the kids were up from their naps, they tackled the remainder of their presents. Will soon got the hang of ripping open his gifts, overjoyed to find toys and books inside, but all-in-all, was still more interested in the paper. "I think we can just give him wrapping paper next year," Mulder suggested, watching his son throw wads of shredded paper everywhere.

Mulder soon joined her Scully the floor, handing her a mug of coffee, prompting her to point to two small flat boxes tucked towards the right of the tree. "Kyle, can you bring over those two presents with the green nutcracker wrapping paper? One is for you and one is for your dad."

Mulder gave her a quizzical look; he hadn't been anticipating this particular surprise. She smiled at him, nodding that they should both open their gifts. She could tell that Mulder had solved the riddle as soon as he peeked inside his box, but that he wasn't going to say anything until his son figured it out.

"Thanks," Kyle cordially said, putting the box down in front of him, ready to rip apart one of his other presents.

Mulder grinned, knowing that the eleven-year-old's cluelessness was going to make the surprise all the more sweet. "Kyle," he said. "The gentlemanly thing to do is to thoroughly examine the gift before putting it away with polite disinterest."

Confused, Kyle put the box back on his lap, holding up a pair of socks. "I really like the socks. Thanks, Dana," he responded, not without a little bit of effort. "It was very thoughtful."

This time, it was Scully who wasn't able to contain herself; she had wanted to do something special for them, knowing how much they both treasured their father-son time. "Maybe you and your father should both fully investigate the contents of the socks. If you two balked at the idea of getting similarly printed pajamas, I wouldn't go to the trouble of getting you the same pair of socks."

Kyle's face paled as he quickly fished out the contents of the red sock. "Yankees vs Red Sox tickets? At Yankee Stadium?"

"These seats are really good," Mulder looked up at her with surprise. "Really good. Right behind first base."

"You'll be sitting with Charlie and Peter," Scully continued, enjoying the look of delight on their faces. "Just a little something that Karen and I planned."

"How?" Mulder asked, incredulous. He had tried purchasing tickets when they had gone on sale a few weeks earlier, but he had not been picked in the lottery. He figured that would be able to to get something through a ticket reseller once the season began, but had not wanted to make any promises to his son in case his plan failed.

He drank in Scully's enigmatic smile. "It was actually very easy," she confessed, after accepting his kiss. "In fact, I didn't even do much. Karen just called her brother and these appeared a few days ago. His company does a lot of work with the team. So I can't really take any credit."

"This is perfect. The gift, today, everything," Mulder murmured, pulling his partner onto his lap. As much as he wanted to hand over his present, he did not want to ruin the magic of the movement by making Scully move. So the five of them sat there, enjoying their sleepy Christmas morning.

XXXXXXX

When the phone rang a few hours later, Mulder assumed it would be Charlie and Karen, or possibly his mother calling from Hilton Head, where she usually spent the holidays visiting with her sister and cousins. "Merry Christmas," he said breathlessly into the phone, trying to drown out the din emanating from the living room and the barking from underneath the kitchen table.

"It's me," said Marita breathlessly. "Have a minute?"

"No."

Mulder became distracted by the shrill sound of a ringing phone, realizing that he had in fact answered his cell phone, not the landline. "Scully's on the other line."

"I need to talk to you, not her," Marita cooly answered. "I have a proposition for you."

"No."

"What if I could arrange for you to speak with your sister?"

Anger swelled through Mulder; he had already made his decision when he walked away from the bureau, and he had reaffirmed it when he had spoken with Preston weeks earlier. The last thing he was going to do was to fuck things up: to make a decision that called into question the sincerity of his promise to end his quest, thus risking his sister's safety, or worse yet, to fall under the spell of Marita's intrigue.

"Stop calling me."

He hung up, and then turned off his cell phone, focusing his attention on Will, who was proudly tugging the leash of his new slinky dog, a perplexed Bandit right behind them, skittishly sniffing the toy. "Did you find yourself another puppy, bullfrog?" he asked, touching the springs on the dog to its new owner's delight.

XXXXXXX

"You have one more present under the tree," Scully reminded her partner that evening. The toddlers had gone to bed early, overwhelmed with all of the excitement in the air, leaving their parents exhausted but happy. After tucking the boys in, they had retreated back to the living room, content to watch the roaring fire.

"But you got me the tickets," Mulder half-heartedly protested, eyeing the blue and green package he grabbed from under the tree before joining his partner on the couch, stealing a corner of the enormous blanket she had wrapped around herself, pulling her next to him.

"Not really, and besides, I didn't know those were going to come through when I ordered this," Scully promised him, shifting her position to better watch him unwrap his gift. "It's a little different, but I hope you like it."

Mulder looked at the book in front of him: _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_. "I read about this over the summer," he said, flipping through the pages before skimming the back cover. "I didn't know it was out yet."

Scully shook her head. "It's not being published in the US until the spring, I think. This came from London," she explained.

"You got Dad a kid's book?" Kyle asked from across the room, putting down his video game controller. "Why?"

"It's about the importance of truth, loyalty, courage, family, and friends," Scully responded, trying to find the words to express what she was thinking. She snaked her hand up Mulder's back, rubbing is neck. "Reading about it reminded me of your Dad, for a lot of reasons."

"I'm touched," Mulder softly replied, thinking of the thoughtfulness that had gone into finding him this particular gift. "I look forward to reading this. And you can have it after I finish, Kyle."

"But I'm not a kid," protested the eleven-year-old.

Scully leaned her head on Mulder's shoulder, enjoying the banter between father and son. While she missed her father and Emily, this Christmas had not been overwhelmed by her grief for them. In some respects, she mourned for the simplicity of her childhood, but she had a welcome reminder to that part of her past through the stockings that hung on the mantle. As she considered whether she truly remembered the woman who raised her as an infant, and the older sister who was not Melissa, she felt Mulder gently shake her awake. "You have one gift left, Scully."

She looked up; the TV was off and Kyle was gone. "You fell asleep there for a while," Mulder explained, sipping a small box out of the pocket of his pajama pants. "I wanted you to open this one while it was still Christmas." He had carried it around all day, not wanting it to become lost amid the chaos of the living room.

Scully smiled as she accepted the package; she and Mulder had allowed Will and Nathan to open the majority of their presents, so this was only the second time she had ripped off any wrapping paper herself. After unlayering the package, she carefully opened the lid of the box. "It's beautiful," she gasped.

"Here, let me put it on," Mulder insisted, resting her left arm on their tangled legs and his own forehead against hers.

Once the bracelet was in place, she ran her fingers through the stones and chain. The firelight in the background sparkled against her auburn hair, and the blue stones set off her blazing eyes. "There are four stones," Mulder explained, nervousness creeping into his voice. He had held off on giving this particular gift on purpose, wanting to give her as much of a Christmas untinged by grief as possible. "I—I miss her too."

"I know you do. We both do."

They sat together in silence. After a few moments, she captured his mouth into a deep kiss, letting out a soft moan as his arms slid down her spine and then settled around her hips. "Today has been perfect," she promised him as she fell onto her back, pulling him with her.

Suddenly, Mulder felt comforted about their future together, vowing to himself that he would take whatever steps were needed to protect his incomplete family.

XXXXXXX

"He didn't want to talk," Marita reported, delicately placing her phone on the mahogany table next to her.

The dark-haired woman sitting on the settee across the room let out a chuckle. "He doesn't know what he wants," she surmised, taking a long sip of her red wine. "But if he wasn't the least bit interested, he would have hung up on you immediately. You're headed in the right direction."

They were interrupted by a clatter in the hallway, followed by an admonishment to not track snow into the house. "How was sledding with Dad?" Samantha called out.

"It was awesome!" the eight-year-old girl answered, her braids flying. "I beat Dad every time. Can we go back tomorrow?"

"I don't know if my pride can take it!" replied a teasing voice from outside the room. A few seconds later, he entered the room, flopping down on the couch. "Amelia, you were flying down the hill."

"That's because I sprayed the bottom of my sled with cooking spray and candle wax, like you taught me last year," Amelia giggled, picking up the American Girl doll she had unwrapped that morning.

Her father straightened. "That's reckless!" he admonished. "And rude. You could have at least sprayed mine too."

"But then you might have lost your other arm," Amelia sassily retorted. "And then Mom would be really mad."

Marita sat back, holding her mug of mulled wine close to her face, inhaling its sweet scent. No one would have thought twice about the family scene before her; they acted as if they were always together, when in fact, Krycek had been in Eastern Europe for most of the fall, only returning to Switzerland a few days prior. She wondered whether the unfamiliar pangs in her stomach were those of jealousy; she had never wanted her own children, but then again, she hadn't been spending much time with them up until Thanksgiving. She wondered whether her siblings' living rooms were playing out similar scenes, with roaring fires and bits of wrapping paper stuck under slippers. Closing her eyes, she drew a deep intake of breath. After months of work, she had finally set their plan in motion.

XXXXXXX

To be continued! The next chapter will take place after a bit of a time jump.

I want to thank everyone for reading, reviewing, and responding to this series. I also want to thank oldmoviewatcher for being an awesome sounding board as I (very slowly) pieced together this chapter.

Please let me know what you think!


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X-Files, Family, Romance