By B.F. Simon
Bbtreehaus@aol.com
 

Date: Sun, 15 Jul 2001

Rating: PG--mild profanity, adult situations and bathroom humor (hey, it
happens a lot around little kids!)

Timeline: Several months after season eight

Spoilers: Existence

Disclaimer: Chris Carter may have invented Mulder, Scully and baby William,
but we fans have ruthlessly appropriated them. Now we've decided that we like
having them with us, and we're not going to give them back...
The song lyrics belong to Three Dog Night.

Archive: Just about anywhere, but please ask.

Feedback: Yes, thank you!  Bbtreehaus@AOL.com

Keywords: Mulder/Scully married, babyfic

Category: MSR comedy-drama

Summary: Unemployed UFO supersleuth Fox Mulder faces a new peril: trying to
keep house while staying one step ahead of his mischievous young son. (This
is a Doggett/Reyes-free zone.)

Author's Note: Okay, I jumped on the post-"Existence" bandwagon; I was right
in the middle of writing an action/intrigue sequel to "Special Delivery" when
the season finale aired...and since it doesn't look like we'll get to see any
of this type of thing in season nine, I went a little wild on the word
processor.

Acknowledgments follow the story.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A Day in the Life of a Househusband
By B.F. Simon
 

The bedside alarm clock jangled Mulder out of a deep, sound sleep. He rolled
over onto his stomach, burying his face in his pillow, and groaned. His eight
month-old son, William, had kept him up half the night with the flu. It
seemed he'd only just gotten back to sleep when the alarm began to buzz, loud
and insistent.

Scully reached over him and shut it off, then gently shook her husband.
"C'mon, Mulder," she urged him softly. "I don't want to be late for work."

Mulder sat up and climbed stiffly to his feet, padding blindly toward the
bathroom as he tried to rub his eyes into focus. Scully followed him in and
brushed her teeth while he took care of his private business. As he stepped
away from the commode, she looked up at him and smiled.

He was always cutely disheveled in the morning, with his pajama bottoms
riding low on his slender hips, his hair sticking up in all directions and
several hours past needing a shave. But on this morning, he was also sporting
puffy eyes from the lack of sleep.

Scully reached up and caressed his sandpaper cheek. "Mulder, why don't I give
Mom a call? Let her take care of William today?"

He smiled sleepily at her; he knew he had to look like hell. "It's okay,
Scully, I got it. I just need to get some caffeine into me." He placed a
sloppy kiss on her forehead, then ambled off toward the kitchen.

A few minutes later, Scully--having showered and dressed--caught up with him.
By then Mulder had already brewed coffee and laid out a fruit-and-bagel
breakfast and was in the process of packing a sack lunch for her. The rush
from his first cup of coffee had obviously jump-started him; he only looked
half-dead now. She grinned inwardly at the thought.

William's cries brought their heads swiveling in unison towards the bedroom.
Scully started to rise, but Mulder moved quickly in front of her. "I'll get
him; you go ahead and finish your breakfast."

He went to the crib where the eight month-old sat sobbing. Mulder lifted him
out and cradled him against his shoulder. "Hey there, lil' guy..." he began
soothingly. "You still feeling bad?"

Scully entered the room behind him. "Take his diaper off, Mulder."

"I don't think he needs a change, Scully. I think he just wants to be held."

"You're probably right, but I need to check his temperature again before I
leave."

Mulder nodded and did as she asked, then cringed as she inserted the rectal
thermometer. Starkly vivid memories of his abduction experience flashed
through his mind. He'd certainly had some interesting scars to show to his
proctologist; fortunately, they'd faded and healed after a time. But the
nightmarish memories were still lurking around the fringes of his
consciousness, made all the more acute by William's yells of protest.

"99.3...still a slight fever," Scully told him as she went to sterilize the
thermometer.

Mulder gently cleaned William's tender bottom, then wrapped him in a fresh
diaper. The child continued to sob as Mulder dressed him in a tiny New York
Yankees T-shirt and jeans.

Scully came back into the bedroom, watching as Mulder patiently rocked the
fussy infant. "Mulder, are you sure you don't want me to let Mom take him
today? She'd be perfectly happy to baby-sit her grandson a little more often."

"No, Scully, I can handle him. Besides, Mom is awfully busy these days
planning the 'social event of the season.'"

Scully smiled tolerantly. "It's very important to her, Mulder. Weddings are a
big deal in Catholic families."

"But we're already married, Scully."

"Well, our little jaunt to Vegas to elope didn't quite cut it with my
family..."

Mulder chuckled. "But at least it was enough to keep your brother Bill from
killing me for 'living in sin' with you..."

She laughed, and wrapped her arms around him. "Is that why you married me,
Mulder? Out of self-preservation?"

He grinned impishly. "It's a very powerful animal instinct, Scully," he
murmured as he leaned in close to her.

"Really, Mulder?" she whispered. "And what other 'powerful animal instincts'
govern your decision-making process?"

"The most important one of all--perpetuation of the species." He bent his
head and covered her lips with his. Her fingers tangled in his pillow-spiked
hair as she pulled herself closer to him, pressing her body snugly against
his.

Well, she thought, at least one part of him was fully awake...

William, squeezed in tightly between them, seemed to sense that he'd been
forgotten. His cries increased dramatically in volume, and the newlyweds drew
back with regret. "I'll go get him some Baby Tylenol," she offered, smiling
sadly.

Mulder looked down at William with a bemused smile. "You're a little killjoy,
ya know that?" he teased.

Unfortunately, a squirt of medicine into William's mouth only served to make
him crankier.

As she was preparing to leave for work, Scully grew increasingly nervous; but
Mulder, seemingly unfazed by all the racket, continued to pace slowly around
the apartment, patting the baby's back and gently rocking and bouncing him.

"I'm going to head for the lab," she sighed. "See if you can get him to eat
some breakfast--rice cereal would probably be the most soothing," she advised.

"Okay, Dr. Mommy."

"Ma-maaaa," William mimicked him, wailing pitifully.

"Mama's got to go to work, honey," Scully said sweetly. "You're staying here
with Daddy...can you say 'Dada?'"

"Mama," he sobbed again.

"I'd better get going," she said resignedly. "Oh, Mulder, I almost
forgot...before you get all engrossed in your computer, I need you to print
out the addresses for the wedding invitations. They have to go out today..."

"Sealing my fate," Mulder smiled mischievously.

"...and make sure that they all get mailed. There's 200 of them; be sure to
count them."

"Do we know that many people?"

"Oh, and Betsy's Bridals will be dropping off my gown at around two this
afternoon. The receipt is on the kitchen table, in case they ask for it. Just
have them hang the dress up in the front closet." She winked at him. "And no
peeking."

"'Cause it's supposed to be bad luck? Tsk! Better be careful, Scully. You
start believing all those superstitions, they're gonna revoke your skeptic's
license."

She favored him with a mildly exasperated look. "Later, Mulder."

"Mama," William whined again, and she moved quickly out the door, before she
could change her mind.

It was a strange new world for both of them: she, heading out to work every
morning while he stayed home and looked after their baby. A year and a half
ago, neither one of them could have possibly foreseen her pregnancy or his
dismissal from the FBI. But for the most part, they'd made the adjustments
amazingly well.

Mulder drew upon his family's considerable assets in order to contribute to
household expenses and to cover the occasional plane fares in order to
continue his work on the paranormal. He didn't seem to mind having to work
out of their home, although she wondered how deeply his masculine pride had
been wounded by his termination from the bureau.

When William had reached two months, she opted to return to work, making a
daily commute to Quantico to perform autopsies. She'd been fairly shocked
when Mulder told her that he wanted to keep William at home with him, rather
than turn him over to day care. Though he'd been a very attentive and loving
father from Day One, she hadn't expected him to volunteer for full-time
parenting obligations.

She agreed to let him give it a try for the time being, under the provision
that the additional duties didn't overwhelm him. But Mulder seemed to handle
solo parenting with aplomb. Occasionally his work necessitated an out-of-town
trip, and her mother, Maggie, was only too happy to keep William on those
days.

But she knew exactly why Mulder had so stubbornly insisted on taking care of
his son today; he'd flown up to Pittsburgh a couple of days ago to talk with
some alleged alien abductees, and he'd had to leave William at a day care
facility, since Maggie had had other plans for the day. The boy had caught
the flu from another child there, and Mulder had been racked with guilt ever
since.

He took full blame for the baby's illness and was determined to be his sole
caregiver, giving him his medicine, changing the foulest of diapers and
cleaning up vomit at all hours of the day and night. The only thing Mulder
couldn't (or wouldn't) do was take William's temperature. Though he didn't
say why, Scully felt she understood his reasons and didn't press him for an
explanation.

Besides, it was certainly no hardship for her to do it, and in all other
respects, Mulder was thoroughly dedicated to fatherhood.

Occasionally she'd come home to find him looking a little harried; but even
if an occasional housekeeping chore was left undone, Mulder was usually
cheerful when she arrived home from work, and always had dinner ready and
waiting for her.

Yes, she thought, they'd both made the adjustments quite well indeed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"MA-MAAAAAAA!" William screamed as Scully disappeared from sight.

"Hey...shhhhhhhh," Mulder soothed as he held the child against his chest and
jogged around the room. "Shhhhh...shhhhhh...easy, little fella, easy..."

The baby, heedless of Mulder's attempts to placate him, continued to scream
at the fullest capacity his little lungs would allow. "It's okay," Mulder
tried to reassure him. "Everything's okay. Daddy's here..."

But it seemed like an endless time before the child's sobs began to fade.
When his crying had finally diminished to soft whimpering, Mulder hailed it
as a victory. "That's one for Daddy's side," he murmured.

His young son looked up at him in puzzlement, and Mulder carefully brushed
away his tears.

"Can you say 'Dada?'" Mulder asked. William blinked at him. "'DA-DA?'" Mulder
repeated, carefully enunciating each syllable.

William burped loudly in response. Mulder laughed, saying, "Good one! Well,
we'll work some more on your language skills a little bit later; now, how
about some breakfast?"

"baaaaagoooofpspogn!" William answered.

"Yeah? Okay, it'll take that yucky medicine taste outta your mouth..."

Mulder sat the little boy down in his high chair and tied a bib around his
neck. "What d'ya think? Rice cereal okay with you?"

William answered him with more loquacious baby gibberish.

"I'll take that as an affirmative," Mulder smiled. He opened the jar and sat
down across from him. "This is Mommy's recommendation," he explained.

"Mama," William echoed.

"Yeah...all-natural, organically-grown..." He spooned up some of the cereal
and aimed for the little mouth. "No additives or preservatives..."

But William was unimpressed. After gumming the spoonful of food a couple of
times, he spat it back out. It dribbled down his chin and landed with a plop
onto his clean bib.

"Aw, buddy! This is good stuff! C'mon, eat some for Daddy..." He scooped up
another bite of cereal. This time William spat it out immediately, smearing
his tray with a big blob of cereal and baby drool.

Mulder decided it was time to change tactics. "Well, if you're not gonna eat
any, then I will." He dug out a huge spoonful and pretended to wolf it down.
"Mm, yummy!"

William watched him quizzically. Mulder wasn't sure, but for a moment it
looked as if the tike had already mastered his mother's arching of the
eyebrow, a look of amused disbelief that was simultaneously endearing and
annoying as hell. Mulder decided to go for broke, tipping the jar back as if
he were chugging a bottle of beer. "Gulp, gulp, gulp!"

William giggled at him.

His father gave him an indulgent grin. "Okay, Daddy's done. It's your turn."
He dug out a tiny amount of food and tried once more to give him the spoon.
This time William accepted it and kept the food inside his mouth. "Good boy,"
he murmured, scooping up another small spoonful. William ate it without
reservation. Mulder patiently kept feeding him little bits of cereal at a
time, munching on his own bagel and fruit in between; they got through most
of the jar's contents before the baby began to shove the spoon away.

Mulder lifted him from his chair and nestled him against his shoulder. He
patted his back rhythmically, saying, "Okay, now, give me another 50-pointer
like you did a few minutes ago..."

But try as he may, Mulder could not extract a burp from him. He finally gave
up and plunked him down in his playpen. "I'm gonna grab a shower, so you stay
outta trouble--okay?"

William cooed cheerfully back at him, picking up the nearest toy and bouncing
it off the playpen floor.

Mulder showered quickly (long, leisurely showers were only a memory now) and
peeked back out into the living room before taking the time to shave and
dress. The baby sat playing quietly by himself. Mulder tugged on some jeans
and his favorite Yankees T-shirt, matching the clothes he'd put on William.
The Major League playoffs started today, and they were going to be *ready.*
In fact, Mulder was hoping he would have all of his planned chores finished
by four; Game One of the American League championship would be broadcast this
afternoon from Seattle.

From the living room came the sounds of William starting to whimper again.
Mulder decided to forego the shave for now and attend to the baby before
those whimpers could escalate to full-blown screams again.

As soon as Mulder picked him up, he settled back down again, lying
comfortably in his father's strong arms. "You just wanna be held, don't you?
Well, that's okay by me...that's what I'm here for." He rubbed the little
boy's head tenderly, caressing a scalp no longer covered with baby fuzz, but
sprouting silky brown locks not unlike his own. "Your fever's down, and you
kept your breakfast; at least we're making progress." He pressed his lips
softly against the baby's hair.

A few minutes later, Mulder ambled over to the work desk. He set William down
at his feet and handed him a toy, then flicked on the computer. The baby let
go of the toy and began to cry immediately. Mulder sighed in resignation and
hauled him back into his lap. Almost instantly, William quieted down.

Mulder bounced him gently on his knee as he loaded the disk containing the
addresses into the computer. Keeping one hand on William, Mulder typed in
several commands to start the printing process, then stood up to load the
fancy envelopes into the sheet feeder.

Watching the entire process in wide-eyed wonder, William suddenly hiccupped.
Mulder chuckled at him, then shifted him onto his hip as he entered the final
command to start the printing process. William hiccupped a little louder this
time, accompanied by a little grunt.

"Hey, buddy," Mulder began, "are you oka--"

He didn't have a chance to finish his query. He was interrupted by a gagging
sound, then a sudden, loud *BLORRRKKK!* A whitish blur sailed past him and
splashed messily on the work station below. The printer and 200 fancy
envelopes were now covered in a jarful of all-natural, organically-grown rice
cereal, with a few ounces of highly corrosive gastric juices for good
measure. The printer emitted a wheezing sound, then sputtered and stopped.

William coughed a little, then let out a deep sigh. Mulder grabbed a tissue
and wiped the little mouth, fully expecting him to start crying again. But
William simply looked up at him and smiled, as if he were greatly relieved.

"Glad you're feeling better," Mulder deadpanned.

Father and son stood over scene, surveying the damage. "The question now is
whether to call Mommy and explain everything...or destroy the evidence. What
do you think?" Mulder implored the youngster.

William stared up at him, his tiny fingers curling into a fist, then
uncurling again.

"Right--destroy the evidence." He gathered up all the ruined envelopes and
dropped them into a plastic bag. "Garbage Day will come a little early this
week...and the printer--that's gotta go, too," he added, hastily
disconnecting all the wires. "I've been wanting to get a new one, anyway."

"Yeeeeeet!" William answered cheerfully.

"Now, replacing the envelopes poses a more serious problem; they were
expensive and took six weeks to order...and the wedding is only three weeks
away. So what do we do about that?"

William frowned briefly, his face taking on an almost adult seriousness.

"Okay, we'll get some cheap substitutes. Who ever notices an envelope,
anyway?"

His young son started shaking his head. Mulder chuckled. He knew William was
still much too young to understand everything that he was saying, but
sometimes it seemed as if the boy was comprehending a lot more than either he
or Scully were giving him credit for.

He had done everything else earlier than expected: rolling over, sitting up,
crawling and pulling himself up to a stand. He was even walking a little bit,
albeit only by holding an adult's hand, or by grabbing onto furniture.

Maybe his little mind was developing just as fast. He seemed to understand a
lot of words, although the only one he was saying, so far, was "Mama." At
first he seemed to use the word indiscriminately; but now Mulder was certain
that William knew exactly what the word meant, and would use the word whether
Scully was present or not.

Watching William's changes of expression, Mulder suddenly brightened. "Hey,
you know something? There's a Koko's Copies right around the corner. We'll
let them do the printing, and that way Daddy can get all caught up on his
e-mail. Good plan, huh?"

"Waaaaheeeeegoooooffff!" William chanted happily.

Mulder bundled the little boy into a sweater and heavy socks, then fetched a
jacket for himself. He slipped William into his baby harness, pocketed the
address disk and tucked the box of invitations inside his jacket. Finally he
grabbed the plastic bag of soiled envelopes and the ruined printer and headed
quickly out the door.

He walked them outside and around the back of the building where he flung the
bag into the dumpster, then heaved the printer in after it, calling out,
"Bombs away!" It impacted on the hard metal wall and broke into a dozen
pieces with a gratifying crash.

William giggled.

"You liked that, huh? Well, don't get too fond of it; Mommy'd be very unhappy
if we went around breaking stuff just for laughs. The printer was an
exception--that was expendable. In fact, we can go get a new one at
CompAmerica; there's one right across the street from the copy place."

William cooed his approval.

The child seemed to enjoy the walk. Though the air was cool and crisp, the
sun was shining. The harness held him snug against the warmth of Mulder's
body, and the gentle motion caused by his father's casual stride seemed to
soothe him.

As they entered the photocopying shop, all female heads turned to take in the
view of the cute little boy and his handsome father. An older woman with
"Phyllis" printed on her name tag came over to wait on them. Taking in the
sight of little William, she beamed. "My, what an adorable baby!" she gushed.
"What's his name?"

"William." Mulder smiled proudly. To the child, he asked, "Can you wave
'hello?'" But William promptly hid his face against Mulder's chest. Mulder
offered an apologetic smile. "We're kinda having a bad day."

"Aw," Phyllis said sympathetically. "Well, what can we do for you today?" she
asked.

"I've got a problem I have to fix right away," Mulder explained. He pulled
out the box of invitations. "I need 200 envelopes that'll hold these--and I
need the addresses printed onto them." He pulled out the disk. "They're all
on here."

"Certainly, sir. When do you need them?"

"Uh, today...this afternoon. EARLY afternoon," he specified.

"Oh, a rush job--that'll cost extra."

"No problem," Mulder answered without hesitation.

"Okay, then. What color envelopes would you like?"

Mulder shrugged. "White ones--the same as the invitations."

Phyllis gestured to a rack with a rainbow of various colored card stock.
"Well, there's snow white, off-white, antique white, ecru, cream,
candlelight..."

Mulder groaned inwardly. Why did people make such a fuss over such subtle
variations in color? What the hell difference did it make? White was white.
He was colorblind anyway, so how the hell was he supposed to differentiate
between the almost imperceptible gradations in the hues?

He closed his eyes, twirled his finger and stabbed a card at random.

"Off-white," Phyllis identified his choice. "Now, what kind of envelope?" she
asked.

"Whatever will fit," Mulder answered simply.

"Well, we have plain paper, parchment, vellum, linen--"

"Linen," Mulder cut her off. The originals were linen, so technically, he
would be off the hook now for having ruined them. "I suppose that costs
extra, too?"

"Yes, sir."

Mulder nodded. "When can you have them ready?"

"Well, it's almost ten now; if we begin right away, we can have them ready
for you by noon."

Mulder's eyebrows went up. "That soon? Then would it also be possible to have
you stuff and seal the envelopes?"

"Yes, sir. But it will--"

"Cost me extra," Mulder finished. "Fine. Add it to my tab. In fact, let's go
for broke; can you put first-class postage on all the envelopes?"

"Yes, sir, for an additional charge of--"

"Do it," Mulder said.

"Certainly, sir," she replied evenly. She punched out some numbers onto a
calculator and filled out an order form. "We'll need a 20% deposit in
advance."

Mulder whipped out his wallet and plucked out a credit card. "Just put the
whole thing on that," he told her. And hope that it won't put me over my
limit, he added silently.

"Very well, sir. We should have everything ready for you by one-thirty."

"Thank you, that'll be perfect," Mulder said, remembering that he had to be
home by two to await the delivery from the bridal shop.

"We'll see you then. Bye, William." Phyllis waved at him.

"Gah!" William chirped in reply. He flung out his hand, as if to return the
wave, but his outstretched fingers knocked over the rack full of card stock.
A spectrum of colors flew through the air as the myriad-tinted cards
scattered like confetti and fluttered to the floor in a ten-foot radius
around the counter.

Mulder, nonplused, stood staring at the mess. How was he, with his color
blindness, going to pick that back up and sort it all out? He could beg off
by confessing his handicap to them...but he doubted they'd believe him.

So instead, he affected his most contrite, apologetic smile. "I'm sorry," he
said, hoping that he looked and sounded sincere, "his mother taught him
that..."

But Phyllis's cold glare told him she wasn't buying any of it.

"Just add it to my bill," Mulder sighed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mulder waited for a break in the traffic, then jogged quickly across the
street to the computer store. "Okay, William," Mulder admonished him. "No
more waving. The stuff in this store costs a lot of money, and Daddy's trying
to keep expenses down. So, we keep our hands to ourselves, right?"

William answered him with a grin that was all boyish mischief.

"That's not very reassuring, buddy."

Mulder opened the door and cautiously glanced around the store's interior.

"Can I help you?" A bored-looking young man with a bad complexion, wearing a
CompAmerica oxford shirt, stood across from Mulder.

"Uh, yes in fact, you can," Mulder answered. "I'd like to buy one of those
all-in-one color printer/copiers."

"The ones that scan and fax, too?"

"Yeah, the PH 1500-X," Mulder specified.

The young man brightened at the prospect of a large sales commission and his
manner changed immediately. "Yes, sir," he replied politely. "Just follow me;
they're right this way."

"Uh...may I ask a favor? Just bring a boxed one up to the counter for me,"
Mulder told him, then gestured down at his son with his eyes. "I don't trust
'Mr. Hands' here."

William looked back at his father with what Mulder swore was indignation.

The salesman simply looked clueless. Then the joke finally sank in. "Oh,
right," he laughed nervously. "I'll be right back."

Mulder leaned down toward William until their foreheads were touching. "You'd
better behave yourself, you little two-legged tornado. Otherwise, Mommy's
gonna make me put you in day care, and we won't get to hang out anymore..."

"Mama," William repeated.

"That's right. She'll put you in day care, and then she'll probably kick my
a--" Mulder stopped to correct himself. "--kick my butt just for good
measure."

William playfully stuck both hands into Mulder's mouth.

"Mm--mm--mm." Mulder pretended to nibble on the little fingers, eliciting
another giggle of delight from the boy.

"Here we are, sir," the pimply-faced young salesman announced. "Is this the
one that you wanted?" He slid a large cardboard box across the sales counter.

"Yes, it is, thank you." Mulder reached for his wallet, then thumbed through
his credit cards. Hm, the Master Card was probably just about maxed out.
Better try the Visa, he thought, then passed the plastic across the counter.

Out of the corner of his eye, Mulder caught a blur of movement. William had
become fascinated with the shining silver pin holding up a shelf full of
computer game joysticks. Mulder turned just in time to see the child yank it
out of its hole.

He lunged forward, grabbing the shelf to steady it before it could topple
over. "Phew!" He grinned in relief...

...whereupon William yanked out the identical pin on the shelf just beneath
it. The shelf collapsed, and an entire row of computer mice slid off and
clattered to the floor.

Mulder's face turned several shades of red.

The sales kid stared wide-eyed at the mess.

And William grinned from ear to ear, triumphantly holding his shining trophy
in the air.

"Add it to my bill," Mulder said dejectedly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mulder shut the apartment door behind him and set the printer box on the
floor. "It's nap time for you, buddy," he said tersely, shedding his jacket
and lifting William out of his harness. "You need some down time, and Daddy's
got to get some work done."

He pulled off William's sweater, then went to get a bottle of milk from the
refrigerator and microwaved it briefly. "Okay now," Mulder said purposefully,
sitting down on the couch and laying William back. "Let's get some of this
into you. You're probably a little dehydrated, so I want you to drink as much
of this as you can."

William eagerly took the bottle. Though he'd been eating solid food for
several weeks now, he still loved his mother's milk best of all. When Scully
had decided to return to work, she'd had to invest in a breast pump, and was
obliged to hook herself up twice a day to keep her son happy.

The baby finished the bottle and rewarded his father with a prodigious burp.
But when Mulder tried to lay him in his crib, he began to sob.

"C'mon, William, settle down," Mulder tried to coax him.

But the baby ignored his plea and started to bawl outright.

Many times before, Scully had told him just to leave him alone when that
happened, that he would eventually settle down and fall asleep. But Mulder
couldn't bear to hear his son screaming. He felt as if he were abandoning
him, and always came back to pick him back up and hold him.

Today was no exception. He finally returned to the crib and lifted the child
to him, saying, "I'm sorry...you can't help being sick, can you?"

Mulder walked them both back to the couch, sat down and began to rock him,
humming softly to him. But William was still restless and squirming. It was
unusual for him not to respond to his father's tender ministrations.

Mulder didn't like feeling helpless, unable to soothe his son. He had felt
this way many times over the last few days, ever since his son had come down
with the flu. He was almost at wit's end, trying to think of a way to placate
the boy, when an old song popped into his head. Mulder smiled at the memories
it stirred, and began to sing:

"Jeremiah was a bullfrog,
Was a good friend of mine...
I never understood a single word he said,
But I helped him a-drink his wine.
And he always had some might fine wine."

William stopped blubbering and smiled up at him. Mulder smiled back, then
continued:

"Joy to the world,
All the boys and girls, now,
Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea,
Joy to you and me."

The boy's eyelids began to droop, and Mulder lowered his voice, singing
softly,

"If I was the king of the world,
Tell you what I'd do..."

Only halfway through the song, William dozed off. Mulder smiled, sighing,
"Thank you, Three Dog Night." He rose carefully and went to lay William in
the crib, drawing the blanket up to his shoulders. He stood watching the baby
sleep for a long moment, then went back to the computer.

There was a big empty space where the printer had sat. It made him laugh;
William had shot his breakfast all over that old printer, but he hadn't
gotten any on himself or on the carpeting. Maybe his luck was turning;
certainly the boy's flu symptoms were abating, at least...

He sat down and dialed up his e-mail. His eyes widened as the screen popped
up--over a hundred new messages.

He'd made a surprising number of new contacts since leaving the bureau. The
investigation into Kersh's wrongdoings had garnered a lot of attention, and
indirectly, it had benefited Mulder. As the former deputy director was
disgraced, Mulder was simultaneously exonerated, and there was a small but
noisy outcry to get him reinstated at the FBI. He had taken advantage of
several opportunities to tell his story to the media, which was eager to lap
up yet another juicy Washington scandal; they named this latest incident
"UFOgate."

Suddenly the paranormal was gaining credibility as respected individuals went
public with their own abduction testimonials. Flying saucer stories had moved
from the tabloid pages to CNN.

And in this process, Mulder was compiling every new scrap of information he
could, from television and Internet news reports, phone calls and a thriving
electronic correspondence. The sheer volume of irrefutable evidence he was
amassing would ultimately provide the proof of the truths he was seeking...

He sorted through the mail quickly, knowing that William would not be napping
for very long. It was half an hour before Mulder heard him stir; he set aside
his work for later.

As he approached the crib, he detected the distinct aroma of a seriously
dirty diaper. "Time for a change there, huh little guy?" Mulder grinned at
him as he hoisted him up and laid him on the changing table.

There were a few helpful hints he'd picked up about changing little boys; the
first one was to work fast. As he unfastened the old diaper, he quickly
covered William's bare privates with a washcloth; both he and Scully had been
hosed more than once. It always amazed him that little William's bladder
could hold so much liquid, and that such a small baby could fire a shot that
reached halfway across the room. As he removed the diaper, Mulder was stunned
at the sheer volume of excreta William had passed.

"Whoa! You keep spewing toxic waste like this, and Daddy's gonna have to go
buy himself a gas mask." Mulder dropped the offending Pamper into the waste
can, then thoroughly cleaned the baby. He had just unfolded a fresh diaper
when the telephone rang.

Normally he never left William unattended on the changing table, but this
time, the cordless phone's handset was only a few quick steps away. Mulder
hurriedly grabbed it and ran back to the baby. "Hello?"

"Hi, Mulder, it's me. How's everything going?"

"Hey, Scully. Everything's fine...at the moment," Mulder added hastily,
mentally adding, but the morning was a total disaster...

"How's William?"

"Almost naked...and happy," Mulder answered her. "He's getting a badly-needed
change."

"Did he eat any breakfast?"

"Well, he chowed down on his Mommy's rice cereal, but unfortunately, it came
right back up again."

Scully groaned, and Mulder quickly added, "He had a bottle a little while
later, so at least he got something into his stomach. I think he's coming out
of it, Scully. He's a lot more lively today than he has been. I'm sure he'll
do better with lunch."

"All right, Mulder, but don't feed him anything too exotic. Stick to bland
foods that are easy for him to digest. And don't forget to give him his
medicine."

"Okay, I'll give it to him before we eat," he assured her.

"How did you do with the invitations?"

"Uh...let's see..." Mulder consulted his watch. "Should have 'em ready to
mail here shortly..."

"Oh, good! I was afraid you might have had trouble with the printer. It was
acting up again last night," she informed him.

Mulder grinned in relief. "Ah...well, to tell you the truth, Scully, it died
a rather painful death a little while ago. But don't worry, the invites are
all printed out." Or at least they should be by now, he thought. "I'll run
out and mail them before two."

"Oh thanks, Mulder. Mom will be so relieved."

Mulder chuckled. "As worked up as Mom is, you'd think she's the one who was
tying the knot."

"You're right about that," Scully laughed. "Well, things have been kind of
slow down here today. I'm going to try to get out of here by four."

"Good! I'll fix dinner early, then."

"Mm, I'm hungry already," she exclaimed. "What are you going to be making?
Give me a hint?"

"No, it'll ruin the surprise," Mulder told her.

"Oh, you always say that, Mulder! C'mon, tell me, what're you making for
dinner?"

He didn't answer, chewing his lower lip and smiling.

"You haven't even decided what to fix yet, have you?" she teased.

Damn, but that woman could read him like the Sunday sports pages. He grinned
in spite of himself. "Have a safe trip home, honey," he said sweetly.

"Bye, Mulder."

He put the handset down and returned to the task at hand. As he turned to
William, he noticed that the boy had pulled off the washcloth, leaving his
equipment fully exposed.

But before Mulder could react, William let it all go. The squirt of pee
caught Mulder square in the face. He looked down at the boy, who seemed
downright pleased with himself.

"Good shot, son," Mulder said with a hapless smile as he reached for some
moist towlettes.

He finished diapering William and dressed him in a new pair of jeans; the
ones he'd been wearing had caught a shot of bowel blast, so Mulder left them
to soak in the bathroom sink. "How about some lunch, you little monster?" he
growled playfully, nuzzling William's belly.

William giggled at his dad's tickling and mock-menacing tone of voice. Mulder
set him in his high chair and tied a clean bib on him.

"Uh-oh...I'm sensing deja vu all over again," Mulder mumbled. He gave William
his medicine, but this time it only elicited a small grunt of disapproval
from him.

"Let's see what we can feed you, 'cause I don't even want to think about
trying that rice cereal on you again. So...how 'bout some veggies? Strained
peas? Carrots? Okay, we'll try those." He set the two jars on the table.

"You know what Daddy's gonna have?" Mulder opened the freezer and reached for
a small package well-hidden behind Scully's health food. "Daddy's gonna treat
himself to a Dodger Dog."

"Bah-bah-bah-bah," William chanted.

"Don't tell Mommy, now," Mulder said conspiratorially. "She doesn't like
Daddy eating food that's bad for him. But Daddy can't eat tofu burgers all
the time. So today, I'm gonna indulge myself a little bit. Fry up a
'dog...defrost a bun...smother it in onions, mustard and relish..."

William watched the whole preparation in silent wonder.

"...and wash it all down with a great big bottle of root beer."

He popped the cap off and watched the resultant foam at the top. He set the
bottle and the plate on the table, then sat down to feed William. "Okay,
buddy, here we go." He twisted open the jar of strained peas and spooned some
out. "Now, this is the EBE...and you're the spaceship. Open wide..."

William accepted the spoon and obediently ate his peas.

"'Atta boy," Mulder praised him.

He got a few spoonfuls into the boy before taking a big bite of the hotdog.
"Geez, that's good," Mulder murmured to himself. Then to the child, he said,
"Okay, little fella, here come some more peas..."

But this time the little boy shoved the spoon away, then reached toward the
table and screeched.

"What? You want this?" He held up the jar of peas for William's inspection.
The baby promptly dug his fist into container, then pulled out green fingers.

"Hey, this isn't finger-food, you little delinquent..."

William gleefully flicked green specks onto the wall as Mulder got up to
fetch a paper towel. He wiped off the little boy's sticky fingers, then sat
down to resume the meal. He took another bite of the hotdog, and the baby
reached toward Mulder again. "Ehhhhhhh!" the child cried.

"What do you want? This?" Mulder gestured to the 'dog. "Fat chance, short
stuff. Mommy'd have my butt in a sling if I fed you a Dodger Dog. Here..."
Mulder opened the other baby food jar containing the strained carrots.
"...let's try some of this."

William nibbled a couple of bites of carrot, but then flung the next spoonful
away. Orange gobs joined green ones on the kitchen wallpaper.

"Oh, no you don't," Mulder scolded him. "No food fights in Mommy's clean
kitchen. Now c'mon, eat your veggies."

"Ehhhh!" William yelled again, lunging toward Mulder's plate.

"You really want this?" Mulder frowned. "Well, okay; maybe one bite..." He
tore off a bit of the 'dog and fed it to William. The baby chewed on it for a
moment, savoring it with a thoughtful expression, then grinned.

Mulder laughed. "You are Daddy's little boy, aren't you? You like Dodger
Dogs."

William implored him for another piece.

"Okay, lil' guy, just one more bite. But that's all."

But before Mulder knew it, William and his baby blue eyes routine had
suckered him out of half of his 'dog. After that, William was no longer
interested in his peas or carrots.

Mulder finished the remainder of his own lunch, then cleaned the baby's face.
"Just do me one favor, little man," Mulder beseeched him. "Whatever happens,
don't toss your cookies again."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He sat down once more at the computer desk, and as before, William cried
whenever his father tried to put him down. So Mulder held him snugly with one
arm, keeping the boy out of harm's reach; he'd certainly learned that lesson
today. He used his free hand to work the computer.

As he skimmed through this latest round of mail, Mulder smiled with
gratification; it looked like he was about to bust UFOgate wide open. He
quickly finished sorting through his correspondence, carefully saving and
organizing pertinent information.

"This is it, William," Mulder said solemnly. "I think I'm finally seeing the
light at the end of the tunnel. After all the hard work I've done...twelve
years now, almost a third of my life. My work, your mommy's work...it's
finally coming to fruition."

"Mama," William echoed.

"Mama...and Dada," Mulder grinned. "You know, when we first started working
together, we approached our work very differently. But it turned out that we
really had the same goal in mind all along. We both wanted to protect the
innocent--the good people. And punish the guilty. To see justice meted out.
We wanted to stop the bad guys.

"But to be able to do all that, we both had to do a lot of digging...and that
made the bad people pretty mad at us. They didn't want us to know the truth,
because then everyone would see all the bad things they were doing, and then
all their plans would be ruined. Sometimes, they did things to try to hurt me
and your mommy, to try to make us stop our work.

"But each time, we helped each other make our hurts go away. And we kept
right on working, even when it still hurt a little bit.

"And then one day, Daddy and Mommy realized something that we'd probably
known deep down all along, but we were both too stubborn or too stupid to
admit it: and that was, Daddy and Mommy loved each other very much..." Mulder
grinned. "...and that's when you came along...

"So that's why now, more than ever, she and I have to try to turn that ideal
we've both envisioned into a reality...so that you'll have a safe and secure
and happy world to grow up in."

William, who'd listened to his father's soliloquy in reverent silence, looked
up at him now with wide eyes, and belched.

Mulder chuckled. "That's the Dodger Dog," he explained, patting William's
tummy.

He kept a careful watch of the time. As one-thirty approached, he once again
set aside his work and bundled up William and himself for an outside stroll.
He would have to be especially careful of the boy this time; he didn't want
to cause any more disasters at the copy shop, or anywhere else, for that
matter. He laughed to himself as he imagined putting the child in handcuffs
to keep him from wreaking any more havoc with those all-too-curious fingers...

Then he remembered that Kimberly, Skinner's secretary, had given them a cap
and mitten set as a baby gift. It really wasn't cold enough outside for
winter wear, but the mittens were held together by a short length of yarn,
which would be effective in restraining William's meddling little hands.

As Mulder tugged the mittens onto the boy, William pouted like a recently
collared criminal. Mulder felt a momentary pang of guilt, but left things as
they were. He knew he would have to toughen up, or else it would be all too
easy to let the boy destroy his resolve to discipline him properly once he
got a little older.

Not that such discipline would revolve around physical restraint, Mulder
assured himself with a chuckle. But the challenges of parenthood were
certainly going to keep him on his toes.

When they arrived at Koko's, all 200 invitations were printed, stuffed and
stamped, as promised. Phyllis had gotten over her earlier ire and smiled at
them both as she presented Mulder with the box. He noted with relief that
someone had managed to reorganize the card-stock display, and was especially
careful to keep his distance from it.

He picked up the box and headed back toward the apartment; there was a
mailbox right in front of the building with a 1:45 pickup time. But as Mulder
neared the building, he saw the mailman closing up the box and preparing to
drive off. "Hang on, kiddo," he cautioned William as he broke into a sprint.

"Hey! HEY!" he screamed after the truck, to no avail. It drove off down the
street, with Mulder running after it full-tilt. His legs hurt from the
exertion, and his lungs began to burn. Damn, he was seriously out of
condition.

But he kept pouring on the speed, and the mail truck eventually braked for a
red light. Finally Mulder drew abreast of the stopped truck, and waved to get
the mailman's attention.

Mulder handed over the box. "If I don't get these mailed today, my wife and
my mother-in-law will kill me," he implored, panting.

"Hey, no problem," the mailman answered, accepting the box with a sympathetic
grin.

The truck drove off, and Mulder paused for a long moment, catching his
breath. "You know something?" he asked William, who seemed to have enjoyed
the little run. "Mommy'd better get me a treadmill or a stair-climber for my
birthday. I need to get my sorry 40 year-old butt back into shape."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mulder walked briskly in order to get back to the apartment by two. As they
reached home, he caught a whiff of flatulence coming from his young son. "You
need another change already?" he asked the tot in mild surprise. Not that
Mulder could blame him, after the little shaking up he'd received from that
hard run.

He took William inside and laid him on the changing table. But an inspection
of the diaper showed it was still clean. He was about to tape it back
together again when there was a knock at the door.

"Hey, I'll bet that's the delivery Mommy's expecting," Mulder told him. As
before, he didn't want to leave William unattended on the changing table, so
he scooped him up, bare bottom and all, and plunked him into the playpen.
Then he snatched up Scully's receipt from the kitchen table and opened the
door.

"Mulder residence?" a young woman, asked, holding up a garment covered in
opaque plastic.

"Yes, it is," he answered and showed her the receipt, then dug out a couple
of dollars from his wallet as a tip.

The woman nodded her thanks, and Mulder took the hanger from her. He closed
the door, and hung it up on the door's molding. Then he looked over at
William, who was happily playing in the playpen.

"What do you think, little guy? Are you superstitious? Should Daddy take a
peek?"

William answered him with more nonsensical baby chatter, and Mulder realized
he had to put the baby's diaper back on. "C'mere, son, or you're gonna catch
cold like that," he grinned. He slung the baby over his arm, and he giggled.

Then Mulder felt the boy's abdomen tense under his hand, followed by a wet
squishing sound. Mulder's eyes went wide.

He turned slowly, dreading what he knew he would see. William had fired a
shot from the tail gun, only to have it splatter all over the hallway carpet.

Mulder sighed despondently. "I hope we still have some of that
industrial-strength carpet cleaner," he groused.

Fortunately, the stains came up a little easier than he would have thought.

He set William, who was once again freshly diapered, back into his high chair
and filled up a bottle with fruit juice for him, then poured a glass of it
for himself. Then he tidied up the kitchen and prepared to do a few other
cursory household chores; he wanted to have all the housework finished before
the baseball game started.

But the covered garment by the door kept nagging his mind.

The hell with superstition, Mulder finally said to himself. How could it be
bad luck to look at the dress before the wedding? Since they were already
married, it shouldn't even count, right?

...But what if it did?

Mulder looked over at William, who was merrily entertaining himself by
sticking out his fruit-juice-purple tongue.

"I know...you can look at the dress for me," Mulder told him. "It seems
rather unlikely that there would be any superstitions about the groom's
children having a peek at their mother's wedding dress before the ceremony,
don't you think?"

He plucked the boy from the chair and brought him over to where the dress was
suspended from its quilted hanger, and hidden behind a protective plastic
sheath. Mulder closed his eyes, then yanked down on the garment bag's zipper.
"Okay, so tell me...is it snow white, off-white, antique white, ecru, cream
or candlelight?"

*SPLOOSH!*

Mulder's eyes popped open. He was standing in front the most exquisitely
designed lace dress he'd ever seen...with fruit juice splashed all across the
front. William's bottle, which he'd carried along with him, had come
unscrewed. Its contents had poured out onto the dress's skirt, and now lay
innocuously empty on the floor.

Mulder stood staring at this latest catastrophe in silent disbelief. When he
finally found his voice again, he uttered, "I'm a dead man..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the third time, Mulder bundled himself and his son into outdoor clothes.
Then he grabbed the stained wedding dress, bolted for the door and raced down
the street to a nearby dry cleaners.

An Asian woman stared at him as he came bounding into her shop. Mulder
realized how strange he must have looked to her, carrying a baby under one
arm and a poofy, laced wedding dress in the other.

"Can I help you?" the woman asked him in a thick accent.

"Yes, please. I need this cleaned right away."

"Okay." She inspected the stain. "What you spill on here?"

"Fruit juice," Mulder blushed.

For some peculiar reason, the woman thought that was quite funny. She threw
her head back and laughed as Mulder stood blushing in front of her.

"Okay," she sputtered. "How soon you need it?"

"Immediately. Right now, this minute."

"Oh, rush job? Cost you extra."

Naturally, he thought. Aloud, he said, "That's fine, no problem." He quickly
handed over the dress, then thumbed through his credit cards. Forget the
Master Card, he thought; the Visa was probably maxed out by now, too. "Do you
take American Express?" he asked hopefully.

By three-thirty, Mulder was beginning to run out of time. As he came bursting
back through the apartment door, he yanked the plastic wrapping off the
freshly cleaned gown, then stuffed it quickly back into the original garment
bag. He jerked the zipper back up, then tossed the whole thing into the front
closet where Scully had wanted him to hang it in the first place.

Mulder once more plunked William into the playpen so that he could finish
tidying up the place; he found William's stained jeans in the sink right
where he'd left them. He wrung them out, doused them with stain remover and
jammed them into the washing machine along with the rest of a load of
laundry. Then he poured in some soap and punched the start button.

Next, he picked up all of William's toys, then ran into the kitchen to get
all the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. The kitchen still smelled like
fried Dodger Dog, so Mulder spritzed the room with a generous squirt of
lemon-scented air freshener. With any luck, the spray would disguise the
smell until after they'd finished dinner...

Dinner?

Oh shit, Mulder cursed silently. He hadn't even defrosted anything. It looked
like this was going to be another pizza night.

He scrambled through some scraps of paper by the telephone until he found the
number for Luigi's, then scooped up the phone while he ran into the living
room to warm up the TV.

William had watched Mulder's frantic preparations in wide-eyed surprise; now,
seeing his father so completely engrossed in the telephone and TV, he seemed
to sense that he'd been forgotten again.

He began to cry once more. Mulder ran over and grabbed him, then sat him down
on the couch next to him as he finished placing the pizza order--a large with
the works.

William continued to fuss, so Mulder flipped on the science fiction channel.
"Forbidden Planet" was showing again--Leslie Nielsen holding a ray gun on
Robbie the Robot as some funky electronic music played in the background. As
always, William was instantly mesmerized.

Mulder finished reciting his address for the pizza delivery man, then hung up
the phone, tipping his head back with a heavy sigh.

He was about to change the channel over to the ball game when the phone rang
again. "Hello?"

"Hi, Mulder, it's me...are you okay? You sound out of breath."

"Oh, I uh...just finished running some errands."

"You sound whipped. I think I'm going to get you a treadmill or a stair
climber for your birthday."

Mulder chuckled heartily. "You on your way home, Scully?"

"No, but I will be very shortly. But I have some good news, Mulder, and I
just couldn't wait to tell you..."

"Really? What happened?"

"Skinner was just here. He told me that he had a long meeting with the
director today...Mulder, they got you reinstated! You're back in the FBI, and
back on the X-Files!"

Mulder stood holding the phone, dumbfounded.

"Mulder, are you still there? Did you hear what I just said?"

"Yeah, Scully, I heard! That's...just incredible! After all these months,
finally...!"

"I know, Mulder, I know! I'm so glad for you! I'll be home soon, and we'll
celebrate."

"Yeah, we'll open that bottle of champagne we've been saving."

"See you soon."

"Hurry on home."

Mulder, numb with incredulity, hung up the phone and set it down, playing the
conversation back again in his mind.

He was back. They wanted him back. The X-Files were his once again...

Mulder suddenly jumped up into the air, shouting, "YES!"

He hoisted William up against him, hugging him tightly. "Daddy's going back
to work! They want me back!" he exclaimed joyfully.

For once, William didn't seem to understand what he was talking about. He
stared at his father blankly, his face devoid of expression.

"I'm going back to my old job," Mulder explained to him. "The one I was
telling you about. Catching the bad guys, and helping the good guys."

William continued to stare at him, uncomprehending.

"Well...never mind that now," Mulder said softly, noticing the Yankees logo
on the child's shirt and remembering that the ball game was about to start.
"We'll talk about it later...

"...'Cause right now, we got a big playoff game coming up! YEAHHHH!"

He flipped the dial over to the sports network, then settled comfortably into
the couch cushions, setting William right by his side. Mulder looked down at
his son, who was staring back up at him with rapt attention.

"You know how we've been watching baseball all summer?" Mulder began. "Well,
now it all comes down to this: our team's in the American League playoffs,
and we gotta beat Seattle, four games outta seven. We win those, and it's on
to the World Series!"

William seemed to brighten again, smiling just a little bit.

"Okay, now," Mulder pointed to the TV. "See, they've just brought all the
players out; that's our team, standing over on that side, and the opposing
team, the Mariners, over there. See the different uniforms?

"Okay, now; pretty soon they'll play the National Anthem, and everybody out
in the crowd will stand up and sing along. And after that comes the moment
everybody's waiting for: they throw out the first pitch, and it's 'PLAY
BALL!'"

This time, William grinned at him.

Mulder mimicked the sound of a bat hitting a ball. "Home run!" he called.
William giggled, and Mulder imitated the sound of a ball smacking into a
glove. "Yooooouuuu're OUT!"

The little boy continued to laugh out loud.

Mulder grinned down at him. "Hey...you know what we're gonna do someday?
Well, I'll tell you. Someday, you and I will make a little pilgrimage to
Yankee Stadium. We'll hook up with somebody who can get us some really great
seats, and then we'll sit down, watch batting practice, and with a little
luck, we'll maybe even catch a fly ball.

"And then, when the game starts, we'll be cheering on our boys in pinstripes.
And there'll be hits and stolen bases and home runs, and catching fly balls
hit a mile into the air...And we'll eat hotdogs and popcorn and drink sodas
till we're about to bust. And we'll yell and scream till we're hoarse, and
just get crazy with the entire home crowd."

His young son was hanging on his every word.

"Yeah, that's just what we're gonna do. When you're just a little bit bigger,
Daddy's going to take you there..."

"Dada," William said.

Mulder stared at him. "What did you say?" he whispered.

"Dada...Dada..."

Suddenly something indescribably sweet coursed gently through Mulder's whole
body. His breath caught in his throat. He felt as if he were seeing William
for the first time all over again.

"That's right," he answered the boy. "Dada. Dada and William." Tears blurred
his vision as he pulled the boy up into his lap and hugged him tightly
against his chest.

Father and son sat together and watched as the ball game got underway. After
the first three outs, the network broke for a commercial. Mulder stood up,
taking William with him as he walked back over to the computer desk. He sat
down, settling William onto his knee. He paused for a brief moment, then
began to type.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Scully groaned as she put the Ford Taurus into "park." Stuck two hours in
traffic on 95, and all because some idiot on a cell phone wasn't watching
where the hell he was going and caused a ten-car pileup. Thank God no one was
seriously hurt, but all that mangled metal had brought traffic to a dead
stop.

She got out of the car and went inside the apartment building, shaking her
head at how dark it had gotten already.

Mulder had left the door unlocked for her. She went inside and heard the TV
on; it sounded like the tail end of a baseball game. The Yankees were way
ahead by the sound of it. Oh yes, the playoffs, she remembered. She walked
around the couch to find Mulder, still unshaved, stretched out on the couch,
with William cuddled up against him. Both were sound asleep.

Scully smiled to herself. Then she began her daily inspection. The first stop
on her tour was the hamper; if it was full of baby clothes or Mulder's
shirts, it was a dead giveaway that either he or William (or both) had had to
undergo multiple changes of clothing in just a few hours time.

Hm, empty...ah, but the washer had been run, and the dryer was full of clean
clothes. Good try, Mulder; just how many times did you get thrown up on today?

Other traces of evidence which exposed Mulder's mishaps were damp spots on
the carpeting where stains had been hastily removed. Oops, big damp spot here
in the hallway; God only knows what might have happened there...

Next, the kitchen. She noticed tiny flecks of food were spattered on the
kitchen wall. Something on the menu had not been to the baby's liking; it
looked liked peas and carrots had become spoon shrapnel today. She only hoped
that Mulder had managed to get the baby to eat something...

She turned and noticed the open pizza box on the table. Ooh, Mulder had
ordered the works! Damn, that looked good...and it smelled even better. It
would really hit the spot. She didn't even mind that Mulder had forgotten to
defrost something again.

Suddenly she remembered the wedding gown...

Scully rushed to the front closet and saw the garment bag with "Betsy's
Bridals" printed on it. She wondered if Mulder had snuck a look at it. She
started to unzip the bag, but it caught on a tiny piece of lace. That's
it--he DID peek, she said to herself. She shook her head, carefully working
the lace free, then admired the gown for a long moment. It was as beautiful
as she remembered it from the shop; she only hoped that Mulder liked it.

She then noticed the empty printer box sitting on the floor. Ah, an
all-in-one; Mulder had been wanting one of these. She went over to the desk
to have a look at it.

Well, she thought, taking care of William couldn't have overwhelmed Mulder
too much; he'd had time to go out, get a new printer and set it up already.
She briefly wondered what he'd done with the old one...

Then a freshly printed page caught her eye.

Mulder had written a letter to Skinner, his once-and-future supervisor. She
debated whether she should read it...

But if Mulder hadn't wanted her to see it, he would certainly have concealed
it, and not left it lying out here in the open for her to find. She sat down
to read it:
 

"Dear Sir,

I am writing to let you know how much I appreciate your efforts to get me
reinstated at the bureau. It is immensely gratifying to me to know that all
my years of hard work at the FBI were--and are--considered a valuable and
needed public service.

"It is with great regret that I cannot accept your offer."
 

Scully's jaw dropped. Oh my God...I can't believe this... She swallowed hard
and continued:
 

"My independent continuation of the work which I began at the bureau is
starting to pay off with tangible results. The goals which I sought to
accomplish at the FBI are now being realized through the work that I've done
right here from my own home, while it has simultaneously allowed me to raise
my son.

"As you know, my father served many years in the State Department. His work
often kept him away from home, as my work at the bureau did with me. Now,
having been a hands-on parent for the last eight months, I can't imagine
going back to a life on the road and leaving my son behind.

"Today, he called me by name for the first time."
 

"'Dada,'" Scully said aloud. She blinked back tears as she continued.
 

"One day soon, he will take his first step, and I want to be here to see it
happen. I want to be there for him his first day of school, and go see him in
all those corny little school plays. I want to be able to watch him play
ball. But most of all, I want to tuck him into bed every night, and assure
him that he is safe from the evils of the world...and then awaken every
morning with his mother right beside me.

"Thank you, sir, for all those years you supported us. It means more to me
than words can say. Thank you for believing in and defending an abstract and
intangible ideal at great personal and professional risk to yourself. Thank
you for being there for Agent Scully when I was away last year. And most of
all, thank you for your friendship with us. We both hope you'll stay in
touch, no matter where life's path life takes us.

"Sincerely,
Fox William Mulder"
 

Scully gently set the letter back down, and brushed away her tears. She
turned back to where her sleeping husband and son lay, and knelt by their
side.

She lay her head on Mulder's chest, as she had done so many times before, and
sighed with complete contentment. "I love you," she whispered.

Mulder stirred, his hand sweeping lazily over her back. "Scully," he said
sleepily. "You're late. Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," she murmured. "Everything's perfect."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Acknowledgments: (as MLB's 2001 All-Star Game plays on TV...)
Thanks to Nita, who cheered me on as I was writing this, and for being my
virtual shoulder to cry on during all those moments when season 8 went so
terribly wrong.
To Charles, for egging me on (although his suggestion was that 1013 should be
the one getting peed on, pooped on and barfed on).
Hugs to RJ, the terminal NoRomo, for putting up with my shipper screams of
joy as I climbed the walls of his house (I did, I really did!) after watching
the last 4 minutes of "Existence."
To Jan, for her perpetual exuberance.
To Cheryl, for sending me all those juicy stories and links to cool web sites.
To Dallas, for her precise, detailed, and immensely helpful critiques.
To Jody, my favorite tea drinker, for believing.
To Eliza--Georgia will miss you...stay in touch. Good luck in New York!
To my longtime friend Liz, who's regaled me with screamingly funny motherhood
stories in the 18 years of our correspondence.
To my 6 nephews and nieces, whose anecdotes helped inspire this story.
To my sis, Elizabeth Warren, with boundless love, for her editing efforts.
To Mom, my biggest fan, for everything.
And for David, for giving us the unforgettable Fox Mulder...(and by the way,
I ALWAYS knew you were funny...)