By Char Chaffin
char@chaffin.com

Category: MSR, Future AU
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: General, through to the end of Season Nine
Disclaimers: Clones on Loan

This is the next installment in my ongoing series, "A
Life". It would probably help if you have read the
previous stories:
"The Hitcher"
"Far From the Madding Crowd"
"You're Still You"
"A Necessary Family"
"Small-Town Man"

Author Notes at the End -

Dedication: To a couple of IWTB Birthday Girls -
Tamra, who wanted to see this series continue and so I
have done just that, for her! - and Suzanne, another
dear Believer!

Thanks to: Tess, my sweet writing partner whose
opinion I value above all else, Sallie for her
wonderful (and prompt!) beta, Tracy, Steph, Robin and
Piper, for reading and encouragement. You are all the
very best!

Summary: "She can thank God, for him..."
 

"Maple Syrup Sunday"
 

In the early morning he awakens, before the rooster
crows and before Briggs stirs and crawls up from under
the extra covers at the foot of the bed, to lick his
face. It's still dark outside his little bedroom
window but the blankets and his quilt are as warm as
can be and sometime during the night he wound himself
up like a mummy.

He grins sleepily, at the thought he could be a mummy;
those are his favorite scary movies to watch, the ones
his mother forbids him to see and the same ones his
father lets him view. Sometimes, when he knows
there'll be one on Channel 12, when "Chiller Theater"
comes on Saturday at midnight and he can't sleep, he
sneaks out of bed and tiptoes down the stairs. And
there'll be his father, curled up on the faded sofa,
watching. He slips in beside his dad, under the arm
held out, just for him... and he gets to hold the bowl
of popcorn on his lap, while without even a word of
'hello', father and son watch mummy movies.

Next to 'Maple Syrup Sunday', those are his favorite
times... well, that, and helping his mom feed the
chickens, especially his pet hen Pinney.

Kevin stretches under the covers, on this early morning
in the dark of his bedroom in the hills of the Bluff
Mountains. And he remembers it's Sunday because he
watched "The Mummy's Curse" last night, and ate two
bowls of extra-buttery popcorn, snuggled in his
father's arms - and this morning it'll be maple syrup,
on his pancakes.

Kevin loves maple syrup on his pancakes.

He gets out of bed and yawns all the way to the
bathroom, brushes his teeth without turning on the
light. There's a Mickey Mouse night-lamp plugged into
the wall and that's enough for him to see where to put
his brush. It's icky, eating pancakes when his mouth
is dry and smelly from sleeping all night; besides, he
knows he sleeps with his mouth hanging open - his dad
told him. Kevin figures it's because his dad sleeps
that way, too, and after all, his mom is always telling
him he's a 'chip off the old block', and sometimes she
smiles when she says it and sometimes she doesn't.
Kevin thinks it depends on whether being a 'chip' is a
good thing, or a bad thing.

When she doesn't smile, his dad always comes up behind
her and kisses her neck, underneath her blonde
ponytail... and his mom always giggles a little. Kevin
thinks it must tickle. He loves to hear his mom giggle.

Rinsing his mouth in the sink, Kevin makes sure to
clean out the spit he leaves behind. Mom says never
leave spit behind, and truly it's nasty stuff. He
wipes his hands on his flannel pajamas and calls a low
whistle to Briggs, who wrestles his way out from
underneath the mound of bedding, and pads to the door,
liquid adoration in his soft brown eyes and much
wagging of his golden tail. Kevin scratches him behind
the ears, allows his face to be thoroughly licked, and
then boy and his dog trudge downstairs to the kitchen
where Briggs runs out the back door into the new snow
that fell the night before.

Kevin climbs up into the seat in the bay window
overlooking the frost-coated garden and watches Briggs
dance in the snow, snuffling his nose through the
powder one minute and then peeing up against the
lamppost five seconds later. He'd stay out there
forever if Kevin let him, but then he'd be wet and
covered with snow and Kevin would get into trouble for
letting Briggs track his wet fur and footprints all
over his mom's shiny floors. So Kevin opens the door
and calls him in, makes sure to grab a towel from the
rack in the mud room, and wipes off the dog's sopping
feet and damp fur.

Looking at the clock, Kevin sees it's still much too
early for pancakes, but he doesn't mind waiting around.
He likes to sit in the kitchen in the dark, warm from
the remains of last night's wood stove fire, smelling
of herbs and cinnamon and now, wet dog. He curls up on
the pillows framing the window seat and squints out
into the yard, imagining all manner of creepy things,
staggering toward their back porch with their arms
outstretched and their hands curved into claws. Just
like that mummy last night, the one that shuffled into
the tomb, and grabbed that girl. Kevin shakes his head
and grins; mummies are always staggering into tombs and
grabbing these stupid girls who for some dumb reason
have to hang out in dark tombs, waiting for yucky
monsters like mummies, to grab them. Kevin has yet to
see a girl in a movie that's half as smart as his mom...

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

In the cool morning air of their bedroom, June snaps
awake, the remnants of a dream fading from her
consciousness. Beside her, Frank sleeps like one of
the dead, like one of those ridiculous mummies in that
movie she knows he watched last night. And let Kevin
watch, as well... it's amazing to her that boy has yet
to suffer a nightmare from watching horror films late
into the night. Oh, June knows all about it... knows
her men sneak around on the occasional Saturday night,
when "Chiller Theater" shows a mummy movie. God knows
why they seem to find mummies fascinating - but they
do. And Frank knows better than to let their young son
watch any sort of scary movies - and June knows better
than to try changing either of them. They are what
they are, after all.

She swings her pajama-covered legs out of the bed and
sits on the edge, stretching and yawning, scratching
her nails through her tangled blonde hair. It's been
getting so long lately that she's taken to wearing it
in a braid when she sleeps. And she smiles as she
remembers the recent nights it started out as a braid
and ended up as an extra blanket for Frank, who
delights in unplaiting it as fast as she braids it,
then wrapping her hair in his hands as his body presses
hers into the flannel sheets and he slips between her
legs and into her very heart. Lately, more and more,
June has awoken with tangles instead of a braid...
except for occasional Saturday nights, when she shares
Frank with a mummy and a bowl of popcorn.

This morning the hair close to her scalp is tangled,
but the braid still holds. June pulls the covers up
over her dead-to-the-world husband, and heads for the
bathroom.

It's a cold Sunday morning and they have many chores to
do, after they come home from church - but it's also
Maple Syrup Sunday, and June is grateful church doesn't
start until eleven in the morning. It gives her time
to tend to small tasks around the house, to make and
enjoy a leisurely breakfast snuggled up on the faded
sofa in the living room, with Frank and Kevin, eating
pancakes. On Sunday they don't go near their kitchen
table; instead they light a fire in the fireplace and
eat breakfast on the sofa and supper on an old quilt
spread out on the living room floor, pretending they're
on a picnic. They do it every Sunday during the
winter, except for the times they have Sunday company.
June has a feeling that if they asked their guests so
sit Indian-style on the living room floor and eat fried
chicken off a paper plate, they'd be more than happy to
comply...

In the bathroom June brushes her teeth, then tosses her
toothbrush aside when the taste of the toothpaste makes
her gag into the sink. She spits up foam; clutches her
stomach as her spit takes her past nausea and all the
way to vomiting in the toilet. She rests her face on
the cool porcelain, refusing to consider that Kevin may
have visited the bowl once already and missed his
target when he relieved himself. The child has lousy
aim... but when morning sickness rears its unwelcome
head June lets it have its way. She'll worry about
scrubbing her face later. Right now it's more
important to purge herself.

They haven't told Kevin he's going to become a brother.
She and Frank are still getting over the shock of
finding her pregnant after two years of trying, without
success. June figured it would never happen again,
that for whatever reason they were blessed beyond
measure the first time and that would be it for them.
When she first became nauseous in the early morning
June was afraid to say anything to Frank, unwilling to
get his hopes up. On the fifth morning, Frank walked
in and caught her bent over the toilet, retching and
crying and laughing all at the same time. After he
helped her clean up and made her brush her teeth and
wipe her damp face, he carried her to bed and made the
most tender, gentle love to her, tears running down his
face to mingle with the ones welling up in her eyes as
she climaxed and clung tightly to him. Another child -
how blessed they felt. How incredibly blessed...

That was a week ago. This morning June thinks it's
probably a good time to tell their son, and she heads
back to their room intent on awakening Frank and
suggesting they do just that - but when she gets back
to the bedroom Frank is nowhere to be found. June
struggles into her bathrobe and yawns her way
downstairs, picturing the two of them up to their
elbows in pancake flour and eggs. When it's this quiet
in the house this early in the morning, and her boys
are not upstairs, that can only mean one thing: they
have taken it upon themselves to cook. God help her.
With amused trepidation June heads to the back of the
farmhouse.

Five seconds later she pokes her head into the kitchen,
and grimaces at the tableau in front of her. Lord,
what a mess...

Eggs, and flour and sugar, everywhere. Soft laughter
and conspiring whispers, spilled milk, as the men in
her life make an absolute disaster out of mixing up
pancakes. June stands in the doorway with her hands on
her hips, fighting the giggles back, watching Briggs
enthusiastically lap up a busted egg on the floor and
committing to memory the sight of her tall, handsome
husband wearing one of her frilly aprons over his bare
chest and pajama bottoms.

June delicately clears her throat. "Um, guys... mind
if I ask who started making... pancakes... this
morning?" She points to the batter-spattered ceramic
bowl with its bounty of lumpy dough, and the assorted
measuring cups, spoons and what-not cluttering up her
once-pristine counter.

Frank spins around, an egg flying from his fingers to
drop on the floor, Briggs immediately lumbering over
and licking at the exposed yolk. Grasping the eager
dog's collar, Frank pulls him away from the cracked
shell he's trying to eat, and mutters, "You weren't
supposed to come down yet. You were supposed to be
surprised."

June grins at him, carefully walks over broken
eggshells and spilt flour; stretches up on her bare
toes to brush a kiss on his pouting mouth. Against his
lips she murmurs, "Oh, I'm surprised, I can guarantee
it. Morning, Sweetheart," she smiles down at her son,
who has tossed aside his spoon and is clutching her
tightly around her waist, no doubt getting pancake goop
over the back of her robe. June doesn't care. Robes
can be washed. Her little boy's hugs are precious and
priceless to her and she wouldn't waste a single second
of them, telling him he has to wash his hands first.

Leaning down, she presses several kisses over Kevin's
floury cheek and his tousled hair, then leads him over
to the kitchen table and sits down in the nearest
chair, pulling him onto her lap. Kevin cuddles close,
still little-boy enough to love sitting on his mom.
June brushes his hair off his forehead and smiles into
his adorable face, then glances up at Frank, who has
retained his grip on Briggs and has moved himself and
the wriggling dog over to stand by her chair. When he
nods at her - knowing what she's going to say ñ June
takes a deep breath and hugs Kevin tightly, speaking
lovingly into her son's small ear.

"Kevin... how'd you like to be a big brother?"

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

"I don't think I've ever seen him so excited." Frank
scrapes maple syrup from the breakfast plates as June
attacks the dried-on yolk stubbornly clinging to her
kitchen counter. She's smiling as she scrubs; in the
living room their son is sound asleep and snoring,
lying on the floor in a heap next to Briggs, using the
dog's soft fur as a pillow.

They'd gobbled down pancakes that may not have been
round but were certainly delicious. Frank had made a
batch with blueberries in them and one with chocolate
chips, and Kevin had been in kid heaven. He'd
slathered butter and hot maple syrup over a heap of the
lumpy cakes, then in between huge chomping bites had
slurped orange juice and asked countless questions
about babies and little brothers and messy diapers...

"Will he look like me? Will he be a he or a she? I
think a sister would be sorta fun, I could teach her
how to climb apple trees, Mom couldn't I teach her how
to climb apple trees? Maisie Hawkins climbs trees and
she only fell once and you shoulda seen the big scab on
her knee, if she's a girl can I name her, Dad? Can I
call her Daisy? I like daisies and I bet she'd be real
pretty just like you Mom and Daisy's a pretty name
isn't it? Can I help you put on his diapers, if it's a
he? I don't want to help if it's a she, I don't think
that would be nice 'cause Maisie says girl babies smell
really bad when they poop an' she should know 'cause
she's got that baby sister..."

Kevin had managed the long-winded garble while cramming
pancakes in his mouth and over the excited barking of
Briggs, who was busy trying to cadge food. June had
started laughing helplessly, unable to eat between
chuckles, as she listened to their son's infectious
enthusiasm and strange rambling about diapers and
smelly girl-babies. She'd finally held up a
restraining hand, her eyes brimming over with mirth as
she attempted to answer his questions.

"Kevin, slow down! First off, we haven't a clue if
it's to be a boy or a girl. I promise you whichever we
have you may certainly help choose names. No, you may
not teach your baby brother or sister to climb trees,
not until they are at least as old as you are right
now! And Daisy is fine for a puppy, but I'm not too
sure about a baby. And when did you and Maisie discuss
the quality of her baby sister's poopy diapers?"

Thinking back on the wild conversation, June is
relieved that Kevin is this thrilled. He has been
their one and only for almost six years; by the time
the baby is born Kevin will have just turned seven. It
would be natural for him to be resentful of a young
sibling, but so far Kevin shows only happiness and
excitement. A little too much, in fact... her forehead
furrows into a worried frown, and Frank catches it -
and easily reads her thoughts.

"You're thinking of what he said about his grandmother,
aren't you?" Frank has come up in back of her and slips
his arms around her waist, letting her lean back
against him. He buries his face into her soft hair as
June nods and swallows hard, remembering the exact
moment when she knew they'd have to explain to their
son much more about his family than he'd probably be
able to understand.

She rests her head into his shoulder. "I can't stop
thinking about it. How could I think of anything
else?" She turns in his arms, looks up into his face,
into his loving eyes. Her hands frame his cheeks, her
gaze is sad as she whispers, "Mulder... he wants to see
her. He wants his baby sister or brother to see her...
God, I want to see her, too!" June's voice breaks as
she dissolves into tears and buries her sobs into his
neck. Frank holds her closely; for once uncaring that
she's spoken his secret name, in the middle of the
morning a scant hour before they're due to church and
within earshot of their son. He holds his wife in a
comforting embrace and rocks a little on his feet,
hoping he's soothing her somewhat - knowing her
nearness is soothing him.

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

Several months after they first moved to Simmons, Frank
wanted to contact her family. He wanted to go and get
them, as a matter of fact - and June claimed the right
to tell him no. The decision she'd made to stay
hidden, in turn keeping her family away, had not been
easy. Kevin had begun asking questions and it was so
hard to tell their son his grandma might never get to
see him again. In fact they'd put off telling him
anything of substance, until he'd passed his fifth
birthday. By then Kevin's intellect and capacity for
comprehension was showing remarkable development for
one so young, and the decision was made to explain as
much to him as they thought he'd understand -

And it turned out that Kevin could understand plenty.
He'd sat between them on the sofa, holding their hands,
his little face serious, as first June and then Frank
had haltingly explained to him why it was impossible
for him to see his grandma and his uncles.

Kevin as usual had lots of questions. "Will the bad
people ever forget us, Mommy? Will they ever want to
hurt Grandma? Can I send her pictures and drawings if
it's safe? What about Briggs? Do they hate dogs,
too?" Kevin had slipped from their hands and bent down
to hug the dog, who slobbered worshipfully over his
cheeks and tried to chew on his ears. June had stroked
her son's head and fought to blink back her tears
before Kevin could see them. She swallowed hard and
her voice came out even and clear.

"I don't know how these people feel about dogs,
Sweetheart ñ but Briggs is safe with us. We're all
safe here, as safe as we can be. Only one person knows
where we really are - and he's our link to your
grandma. He has gotten photos and letters to her on a
regular basis, for us. Your grandma knows what you've
looked like since you were a toddler."

As she spoke June had forced back tears again, at the
thought of their one vital and valuable link to her
family. He had risked his life for them, over and
over. Had put himself in dangerous situations, for
them - gladly. Had begged to be the one they
contacted, leaving his two partners in the dark as to
their whereabouts. It was safer that way, he declared,
that only one of them should know. And his friends
agreed to in turn protect him, at all costs. It had
worked for several years, and they could only pray for
its continued success...

Frank had lifted Kevin into his lap and snuggled him,
as he took up the narrative. "Someday we hope these
bad people will forget about us, Son - but until they
do, we have to stay hidden, like this. I know you
understand how important it is, for you to never say
anything about this, to any of your friends at school,
or your teacher. We're secrets, okay? All of us.
Until Mommy and I tell you differently, this other side
of our lives is a secret." Kevin's eyes had never
wavered as Frank spoke; his head nodded vigorously as
he'd promised his parents to never say a word. That
had been months ago.

And now, a new life to protect - and a new vow to
make...

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

Sunday zips by, as Sundays usually do. After church
Frank and June take Kevin to see Mrs. Pennington, whose
cocker spaniel Mouse delivered a litter of puppies,
four weeks ago. Last year Mrs. Pennington had moved
into town to be closer to her daughter Catherine,
claiming that Bluff Ridge living was just getting too
difficult and the little apartment upstairs from her
real estate office in Simmons was certainly big enough
for her.

Now she watches Kevin roll around on the floor with
seven tiny yet rambunctious pups, and wonders aloud,
"Gad, what was I thinking, putting my house up for rent
and moving into this dinky place? Frank, you should
have stopped me!"

Frank throws up his hands in surrender, grinning at
her; beside him on the sofa June laughs as he protests,
"Don't drag me into it, Mrs. P - I told you not to do
it! That house is a lot of work, I know - but you've
got very helpful neighbors out there on the Ridge."

June nods, but adds, "Well, it is a long way from town,
Adele. I can certainly understand the hassle of
driving that road every day, especially in the winter
months. And all by yourself in a large house like
that... you're better off in town, close to Cathy.
Besides," she picks up a sweet little black cocker pup
and cuddles it, "your canine houseguests will be out of
here soon! Then this place will feel a lot bigger."
The tiny pup wriggles and yips, licking at her face, as
June inquires, "You did get them all sold, didn't you?"

Adele Pennington smiles and nods. "Yes indeed! In
fact, the last pup has been adopted by the Northrups -
they're the folks who have been renting my house this
past year. They wanted to spend one full rotation of
seasons out on the Ridge, see if they liked it, but
sadly, they didn't. They gave notice a few days ago and
they're moving out, heading back into town. I've been
looking for a new tenant, haven't found one yet - so
keep your fingers crossed for me."

After another half-hour of visiting, Frank and June
collect an over-excited Kevin and take him home. There
are still many chores needing to be done. Visiting
Adele is always nice, but today was actually a kind of
test, to see if Kevin would say anything to her about
the baby. Frank hadn't forbidden Kevin to speak of it,
not at all ñ but he wanted to see if Kevin understood
the concept of discretion... and their son had kept his
own counsel; when asked what was happening with him,
Kevin had shrugged and had dutifully reported on
Brigg's latest antics. Then after Adele had turned
away to refill June's teacup, Kevin had caught his
father's eye... and had winked. Frank was torn between
laughing aloud and squeezing the stuffing out of his
son in pride. He'd settled for ruffling the boy's hair
and grinning at him.

Now, as they head back toward Bluff Lake, June notices
the new layer of ice on Emmett Road, and hopes aloud
that Mrs. Pennington's ex-tenants have good studded
tires, for the drive back down the Bluff. The Ridge is
ten more miles away, at a steady incline, not a fun
road in the dead of winter.

At home, they change clothes and dig into their chores.
Kevin spends almost the entire afternoon outside,
either helping June feed the chickens and the horses,
or roughhousing with Briggs in the yard - even doing
his best to be of assistance when Frank chops wood,
dragging the smaller branches and pieces aside to be
fed into the chipper. It's cold, frost-biting work but
they troop inside at least once for hot cocoa and a
turn standing in front of the wood stove in the
kitchen, warming their backsides. By five, everything
is done, and the family sits down in front of the fire
to an early supper of stew and homemade bread.

Kevin conks out fast, sprawled across Briggs on the
hearth rug in front of the fireplace; the faithful dog
stirs himself just enough to deliver an adoring lick to
his young master's face, before curling around him and
going to sleep. On the sofa, June stretches herself
next to Frank and likewise curls into his side, both of
them lying full length on the fat cushions. He plays
with her hair while they stare into the fire. June has
a lot on her mind and Frank knows it. He's been
thinking, too... but he'll wait for her to say it first.

Several minutes stretch by, before June speaks. "The
baby... he or she will be born in late July. It's
pretty here, in late July." She turns away from the
fire, looks into her husband's loving eyes. He knows
what she wants to say. It's the same thing he'd like
nothing better to say to her; that they can make it
work somehow, go and get her family, bring them here
when it's warm and summery and the garden is
flourishing and the hills are green and lush. That her
brothers would want to visit here, that her mother
would want to uproot herself and move here, cut herself
off from the rest of her world.
He wants to say it and he wants to believe it...

But he doesn't believe it. And neither does she.

As the flames slowly wink out in the fireplace and
leave hot embers behind, Frank carries Kevin to bed and
tucks him in. June finishes up in the bathroom and then
slips between the flannel sheets and sighs in
contentment when she discovers they've been ironed by
her thoughtful and sweet husband. Warm flannel and
bare skin, her favorite way to sleep, in the deep of
winter when the house is silent and smells of
woodsmoke; when her bed smells of cotton and Mulder.
Mulder... she can whisper his name at eleven o'clock at
night when she waits for him in their bed.

She can watch him walk toward her, naked and muscled
from hard, honest farm labor. She can close her eyes
in thick desire when his arms band themselves around
her and his mouth buries itself into her neck, under
her heavy blonde braid; can giggle softly when his
hands destroy that same braid and release her hair, to
cover both their shoulders. She can sigh, moan, cry
out in rapid-fire reaction to every delicious action he
perpetrates upon her body - every kiss, every touch,
every thrust. She can thank God for him, when he
shudders deep inside her, inside where their baby now
grows. Inside, where she thought she'd never conceive,
ever again...

Inside. Close to her heart. Wrapped up in her soul.
She can fall asleep with his arms tightly enclosing her
and his hard body protecting her.

It's all hers to love, in turn protect, to care for as
he cares for her and for their son. And sometime in
late July, when their baby son or daughter is born,
they'll find a way to get safe word to her mother.
They'll send photos. They'll send life, and their
future sealed up in an envelope filled with loving
words and color images.

Pressed up against his back, breathing softly into his
damp skin, she mumbles a sleepy, "Love you so much,
Mulder..." and smiles when his drowsy answer echoes
over to her.

"Love you right back, Scully... my baby... all my
babies..."

end

Additional Notes: I would like to thank everyone who
has emailed me with wonderful feedback, for the
continuing story of Frank, June, Kevin and Briggs,
living their secret life in the Bluff Mountains. I had
actually planned on ending this series with the last
installment, but decided to reopen it for everyone who
has enjoyed it so far and who asked for more, and for
Tamra and Suzanne, in honor of their birthdays. Have a
wonderful day, both of you!

This series will continue a little longer, until the
story is finally told. The rest of the installments
will be posted through the month, and into December. I
am not sure at this time how many installments there
will be - but the series itself will end in December.
 

As always, I thank you so much for reading!! I love
hearing from you; email me! char@chaffin.com

Please visit my web site, at http://char.chaffin.com

Ring, Ring, Ring... Crack, Crack, Crack...
~~ Liberty Bell Tour, 2002 ~~