Hurricane Season by rah and beduini
 
Rating: NC-17
 
Category: MSR, Angst ? no X-File, no mytharc, total ship piece.
 
Disclaimer: We did not create these characters.  Charlie, Joy, Wim, 
and for the most part, Tara and Matthew are ours, though.
 
Spoilers: Everything through Existence
 
Archive: Just Duckies only. You're welcome to link to the html file 
- just let us know:
 
http://www.justduckies.org/beduini/beach/day01.html
 
Summary: "Old habits die hard."
 
Feedback: hurricane@justduckies.org
 
Thanks to: Mayor Sybil, Deputy Mayor Melly, and the Bestest Quack 
Lari, for their sage advice, inspired ideas, brave criticism, and 
late hours. We loveses our Duckies! :V quack!
 
Thanks also to all of the pointy-stick bearing, pom-pom waving, 
song-singing people out there who helped keep the positive energy 
flowing, and never flagged in your encouragement and support during 
the composition of this story.
 
~
 
HURRICANE SEASON 
by rah and beduini
 
~ 
Saturday, 
Mid-September 
~
 
"Bad news Scully, April showers might bring May flowers but it also 
makes for lousy baseball..."
 
He was barely inside the front door of her apartment when he met her 
most severe 'shut up, I'm on the phone' look, thrown at him with an 
arched brow from across the warmly lit room.  Closing his mouth and 
tossing his car keys onto the nearest table, Fox Mulder shrugged out 
of his wet jacket, hanging it on the nearby coat rack as she turned 
her back to him.
 
Round hips, slim waist, shoulders straight.  Scully's stance was 
tense, while her voice remained familiar.  "I know," she said softly 
into the receiver.
 
He cataloged her smallest gestures and intonation, trying to get a 
quick read on what he had just walked into.  Neck stiff, economical 
movements.  She was talking to someone close, probably a family 
member.  Probably her mother.  She was picking up small items around 
the apartment and putting them back down again, muttering her 
responses unintelligibly.  He deduced that whatever the subject, it 
was something she didn't want to discuss.  Probably him, their 
Amazing Undefined Relationship, the baby's christening, or...
 
"I don't want to talk to him right now."  Her tone sharpened 
emphatically, and he heard each word clearly.
 
Okay, he qualified - the subject of the conversation was not *him* 
as in *Mulder* him.  It was him as in -
 
Her head bowed, Scully pressed a palm to her forehead, closing her 
eyes.  "Yes, I received Tara's card."
 
- Big Brother Bill *him*.
 
"It doesn't make up for the things he sa-" She took a breath.  "I 
know, Mom.  No, it's not because of that.  He's not even going to be 
there, is he?  No, as I said, this just isn't a good time for us." 
She had a hand on her hip, pacing across the living room like a 
caged panther.  Her voice dropped in volume, and her shoulders 
hunched.  "I'm sorry.  No, I know you do."
 
She glanced up with an apologetic look, and Mulder offered her a 
faint, supportive smile.  Straightening her back, her tone changed. 
"Mom, Mulder's back, I gotta go..." The convenient escape from an 
inconvenient conversation, he thought wryly as she hung up the 
receiver with a reserved, "I love you too."
 
"Why am I always the excuse for getting you off the phone?" he 
voiced his thought aloud when she turned to face him.
 
She let out a long huff, her shoulders visibly dropping.  "You're 
not.  But I just put Wim down to sleep and she knew that so I had to 
think of something else."
 
He crossed the room toward her, thinking a little support might be 
in order.  Just as he reached out to lay a hand on her shoulder, she 
glanced up at him and commented, "You're wet."
 
Dropping his hand back to his side, he nodded mutely as she turned 
and stalked into the bathroom.  She reappeared a moment later 
carrying a clean, off-white bath towel.
 
"The game was rained out," he said in response to her questioning 
look.  He accepted the towel and rubbed it over his damp head until 
his dark, cropped hair stood up on end.  Outside, he could hear the 
soft rhythm of the rain hitting the windows as the storm grew in 
intensity.  
 
"Did you say something about flowers?" she asked, distracted from 
the conversation, probably by the sound of the rain.
 
He shook his head.  "Nothing important.  It was a joke ? and a bad 
one, since it's September, not May."
 
She took the towel from his hand and gently dried his damp face, 
draping the towel around the back of his neck so each end hung down 
on either side of his chest.  When her eyes met his, they relayed 
her sympathy.  "I'm sorry about the game, Mulder.  I know you were 
looking forward to it."
 
"So  am I ," he replied softly, watching her face grow focused as 
her attention diverted and she brushed her thumb over a drop of 
water slowing forming a rivulet under his chin.  She pursed her lips 
slightly, and he smiled, caught mid-breath by a familiar pang of 
affection.  "Actually...that's not *entirely* true..."
 
Raising her face, her eyes met his with a quizzical look.  "Oh?"
 
"Yeah," he whispered, pulling her gently forward by the lapels of 
her untucked shirt.  "C'mere..."
 
He leaned toward her, slowly capturing her lips between his, feeling 
her mouth respond and part under the gentle quest of flesh against 
flesh.  When they pulled apart, she let out a soft sigh.
 
He nodded his head toward the telephone.  "You wanna talk about it?"
 
She sighed again, more audibly this time, and reached up to grasp 
the ends of the towel.  "Mom has taken a beach house in North 
Carolina for a week and she's encouraging us to join her."  There 
was emphasis on the word 'encouraging,' accompanied by a soft tug on 
the towel, telling him everything he needed to know about how much 
Maggie wanted them with her at the beach.  He wondered briefly who 
was included in the 'us,' of us, and decided that it meant him as 
well.  "Where in North Carolina?" he asked.
 
She paused, and he saw the glimmer of realization in her 
expression.  He had told her a little about his mother's family the 
day they drove to Raleigh for her memorial service, and no doubt she 
had made the connection.  The Kuipers had lived near Raleigh, but 
spent their summers on the Carolina shore.
 
"Cape Hatteras," she replied.  "You've been there, haven't you?"  
The inflection in her voice made it sound more like a statement than 
a question.
 
"Not in a very long time."  

He had spent some time in Hatteras, but not since he was nine or 
ten.  The Mulders had grown away from his mother's family, spending 
all of their summers on Martha's Vineyard during his adolescence and 
teens.  Not wanting her to feel pressured by this tenuous connection 
to his mother's relatives, he reached out and brushed the backs of 
his fingers over her cheek.  "I don't have any strong associations 
one way or the other about it."
 
"I told her it wasn't a good time for us," Scully hummed, leaning 
into his touch, and leaving her explanation at that.  Mulder felt 
the weight of her words ? both said and unsaid - as his hand 
caressed her cheek.  *Not a good time.*  With the wealth of issues 
unspoken and unresolved between them right now, spending a week 
under the same roof with her conservative Catholic mother probably 
wasn't the best idea; spending a week under the same roof with one 
another was problem enough.

Their son was already four months old, and they still kept separate 
apartments.  Sure, he spent most days and nights at her place, aside 
from a night or two when he'd gone home to his own empty apartment, 
feeling alone and misplaced.  They hadn't spent a night apart in 
well over two months, but letting go of his residence was a subject 
they had yet to broach, and their current situation felt anything 
but permanent.  This non-arrangement was just one of many ties to 
their past and their shared work, that - like their future - had 
become a subject they carefully avoided.  
 
He nodded in assent, and slid his hand behind her head to draw her 
closer, wrapping her in his arms.  Touching was something they both 
used in lieu of words like 'future' and 'commitment,' even if 
neither of them could imagine life without the other.  Giving voice 
to those feelings was much more difficult.

Scully closed her eyes and slid her arms around his waist in 
response, raising his body heat and summoning his extremities to 
take notice.  It had been some time since they'd shared anything 
more intimate than a hug and a kiss; their physical relationship had 
been on indefinite hold as Scully recovered from the trauma of 
childbirth and they both grew accustomed to the endless 
responsibilities of parenthood.  But here they were, alone and 
wrapped in one another's arms.  Wim was asleep, having just gone 
down for a nap, and probably wouldn't be up again for at least an 
hour.  It wasn't the amount of time Mulder would have liked, but it 
was *something.*

Even as he calculated the odds of such a rare opportunity, he could 
tell how tired she was just by the way her entire body seemed to 
melt into his.
 
"Did you get any rest today?" he asked, tilting his face down next 
to hers and shifting his hips slightly.  He didn't want her to feel 
pressured into sex just because he couldn't stop his body from 
responding to the feel of her in his arms.  They stood that way for 
a long moment, holding each other in the uncharacteristically still 
apartment, lulled by the constant patter of the rain.
 
"Some," she replied in a non-committal tone.
 
"Did you have another dream?" he prompted, knowing that since Wim 
was born she'd been experiencing disturbing dreams, all with the 
same recurring theme: someone or something takes Wim away from her 
and she is unable to move.  Considering the way that he had been 
brought into the world, and the circumstances surrounding his birth, 
Mulder knew that her concerns were not unfounded.  But there had 
been no actual incident more serious than diaper rash since then, 
and they had no reason to think that their safety was in question 
now.  No reason except old fears and a whole lot of history.
 
She was silent a moment, then nodded.  "I woke up before it went too 
far," she said.  He pressed his lips against the top of her head, 
stroking his hand over her hair.
 
Feeling suddenly drained and in need of rest himself, he said, "Why 
don't you lay down right now while he's sleeping.  I'll keep an ear 
out for him just in case."  She took a step back and with a ragged 
sigh, glanced up at him for reassurance.  He offered her an 
encouraging smile, taking her hand and entwining their fingers.  
"Maybe I'll join you for a while, as long as you promise not to hog 
all the covers."
 
~

Late afternoon turned to night while Scully slept, curled on her 
side while Mulder read beside her.  When the baby woke and began to 
fuss for his bottle, Mulder got up gently and took him to the 
kitchen so he would not wake Scully.

Wim drank hungrily, nestled in his father's arms as Mulder paced the 
apartment, padding softly from room to room, making slow circuits 
around the space that was becoming - by default if not design - his 
home.  He breathed deeply as his gaze wandered among the familiar 
comforts each room, and he wondered exactly when it was that he had 
stopped feeling like a guest in this apartment.  He felt more at 
home here than at his own apartment anymore, although perhaps that 
was not saying much.  Despite a few vaguely inspired attempts at 
decoration, his existence there had been the example of bachelorhood 
at its most Spartan and neglectful, and his comfort had never 
depended on more than knowing where his things were.  There had 
always been too many other things to occupy his thoughts.  But 
living at Scully's was different.  In ten years at his own place, he 
had never achieved the kind of comfort he'd felt in the last four 
months at her apartment.  

Of course he had brought over the necessities - his favorite shirts, 
his books, his razor ? and there was evidence of his habitation in 
every room; his jacket draped over the kitchen chair, his laptop and 
papers on the table, his toothbrush in the bathroom. The rest of his 
things waited in dusty silence for the occasional visits he made to 
collect his mail and check the answering machine; so far only the 
fish tank had made it out, and now looked much more at home on her 
sideboard.  Other than that, he had not put anything in a box, had 
not given more than the most passing thought to moving out.  Not 
yet.  Perhaps not ever.

The bottle drained, he propped Wim up against his shoulder, tapping 
his tiny back lightly to release any air he may have swallowed.  Wim 
burped - twice - and burrowed into his father's shoulder, lulled 
back into a somnolent state, content for the time being.  Mulder 
continued his circuit, listening to the rain dripping from the trees 
outside, Wim's soft grunts, and Scully's slow, heavy breathing in 
the other room.  He stopped in the doorway to the bedroom.  With his 
hands wrapped gently but firmly around Wim's sleeping body, he 
surveyed the dimly lit room.  His shoes lay on the floor near the 
closet.  The jeans he'd worn the day before were still loosely 
folded on top of the small chair, the books he was reading piled and 
scattered around his side of the bed.  Beneath and around Scully's 
somnolent form, the sheets and covers were thoroughly rumpled, the 
pillows marked with the imprint of his head as well as hers.

*His side of the bed*.

It had not started out that way, but that's how it had become.  One 
bed.  Their bed.  Their bedroom.  He brought Wim to the small crib 
set within easy reach of Scully's side of the bed, and lay him down.  
Then, moving lightly so as not to wake mother or son, he moved to 
his side of the bed, switched off the reading lamp, and settled down 
to join them in slumber.

~ 

He hadn't been asleep for long when he awoke with a start, aware 
that Scully had left the bed.  Fog-diffused light from the street 
lamps outside bathed the room in non-dimensional yellow-gray, 
blurring the shadows so that he had a hard time distinguishing the 
walls from the furniture from the damp air.  He blinked, breathing 
in and out through his nose, and peered through the dim slats of the 
crib.  She had taken the baby with her.
 
The rain had stopped, leaving the world outside heavy and dripping. 
Mulder walked out to the kitchen, raking his scalp with his fingers. 
This was becoming ritual; each creak of the floorboards was like a 
familiar greeting.  He stopped in the doorway.
 
Scully stood with one hip against the counter, her back to him, her 
silken figure silhouetted in the blue light from one of the stove's 
burners.  The rose-gold of Wim's head was just visible over her 
right shoulder.  Mulder stopped and let out another breath to alert 
her to his presence.
 
"Is everything okay?" he asked.
 
She turned, her chin skimming over the baby's head as she glanced 
back at him, and he knew, in the instant it took for her face to 
crumple and two quick tears to slip over her cheeks, that everything 
was not okay.  She'd had another nightmare; the remnants of it clung 
to her like shadows.  Shuffling forward, Mulder rounded the table 
and pulled her and the baby into his arms.
 
"I can't keep doing this," she said against his chest, her voice 
thick, breaking on a sob.  The baby whined, squirming between them.  
"I can't..."
 
Mulder wrapped his hands around Wim's middle and stepped back, 
taking the baby onto his own shoulder just as Wim let out a long, 
brittle cry.  Scully put out an automatic hand, but let it drop when 
Wim quieted almost immediately.  Mulder cast a rueful smile at her 
over the baby's head, but she had turned away, snapping the burner 
off and leaning back against the counter with a ragged sigh.  She 
looked exhausted.  He glanced at the bottle warming in the pan on 
the stove.  "Go on back to bed," he said, bouncing gently.  "I'll 
feed him."
 
She looked up at him, eyes dark with fatigue.  "I can't sleep 
anymore."  Her voice held a trace of amazement and more than a 
little helplessness.  She shook her head.  "I'm just so tired," she 
said, crumpling anew.
 
Reaching out with his free hand, Mulder touched her shoulder and 
folded her against him again.  He had them both, his heart and his 
soul, trapped within the safe enclosure of his arms.  He swayed them 
slowly, pressing his cheek to Scully's smooth hair.
 
"Can you tell me?" he asked, meaning the nightmare.  She didn't like 
to tell him about the specters that disturbed her sleep more often 
even than Wim.  Mulder knew that she felt self-conscious about her 
seemingly irrational fears, and that, beyond her chagrin, there was 
also a reluctance to add to his worries.  He had been through 
nightmares of his own since his recent return from the ranks of the 
missing and the dead - most of them waking - but he also knew that 
old habits died hard.  For the better part of eighteen months, 
Scully had been her own bastion, had held her crumbling world 
together by sheer strength of mind and will.  She had forgotten how 
to lean.  She didn't know how not to be the strong one.  He slid his 
hand along her spine, his fingers sifting through her hair and 
cupping the back of her head.
 
"Tell me," he said.
 
"It's always the same," she said.  She was silent for a moment, 
drips from the sodden trees outside punctuating the darkness..  Wim 
began to fuss again, and she moved out of Mulder's arms.  "I don't 
want to think about it," she said.  She turned and lifted the bottle 
from the pan on the stove, rolling it experimentally between her 
hands.
 
"It might help," he said, watching as she nudged a chair away from 
the table with her foot.  "If you brought it into your conscious 
mind, you'd be less likely -"
 
"Here."  She cut him off brusquely, her arms held out.  He shut up, 
taking the hint.  She was too tired to listen to his lame 
psychology, and too polite to tell him to shove it.  He took Wim 
from his shoulder and handed him to her.
 
"You need to get some real sleep, Scully," he said, shifting to sit 
on the edge of the table.  She sank onto the chair, settling Wim 
into the crook of her arm.  Mulder felt a familiar fondness creep 
over him at the sight of them.  They were always beautiful to him, 
but there was no ignoring the dark circles under Scully's eyes.  
"You're exhausting yourself."
 
She looked away and let out a heavy breath, an impatient breath, as 
she teased Wim's lip with the rubber nipple.  Wim fussed, turning 
his head away from the offered formula with a hitching, petulant 
cry.  Scully let out another frustrated sigh and set the bottle down 
on the table, hard.
 
"Scully..."
 
"Take him."
 
"Scully, it's okay -"
 
"Just take him -?"
 
Wim was in full-throated protest now, and Mulder leaned down to take 
him.  Scully got up immediately and walked away from the table, her 
hand pressed against her lips.  Mulder didn't know when he had ever 
seen her this anxious, this fundamentally upset.  He could feel her 
tension like a vibration in the room.  Bouncing the baby against his 
shoulder, he watched as she paced the kitchen floor.  He waited 
until Wim was quiet again before he spoke.
 
"When was the last time you were out of the apartment?" he asked.
 
She looked up in surprise.  "We went out yesterday," she said.
 
"No," he qualified, reaching for the bottle.  "I mean by yourself.  
Without this guy."
 
She didn't answer him, her face blank.  It was a rhetorical 
question, after all.  They both knew she had not been away from Wim 
for more than a few minutes since his birth.  She brought him with 
her everywhere; when they went out, she kept him close to her body, 
bundled into a carryall slung over her chest; inside, she carried 
him with her from room to room in his car-seat.  She wouldn't even 
step into the shower unless Mulder was there to watch him for the 
few minutes it took her to lather and rinse - he doubted she allowed 
herself the time to repeat.
 
He had brought it up before, briefly, when she had refused her 
mother's offer to sit with Wim while they went out to eat.  The 
ferocity with which she had rejected the idea had startled all of 
them, and in the end Maggie had left, her feelings bruised, and 
Mulder had walked down the block for take-out.  He watched Scully 
now, waiting for her reaction.
 
Scully sagged, her shoulders slumping, her head thrown back in an 
attitude of defeat.  Mulder set his foot on the abandoned chair and 
lay the baby along his thigh, plying the nipple to his rosebud mouth 
again.  Wim scrunched his face, refusing the bottle with another 
irritable grunt.  Mulder jogged the knee under him gently, crooning 
"Okay-okay-okay-" and glancing up at Scully.
 
"Maybe we should go," he said.  No emphasis.  No intonation.  Just a 
suggestion.  She picked her head up and regarded him closely.
 
"To Hatteras," she clarified.
 
He nodded, hearing the hint of acceptance in her voice.  He knew the 
idea was tempting to her.  Otherwise, she wouldn't have mentioned it 
to him earlier, her voice masked with studied nonchalance and 
aggravation.  Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea.  He hadn't worked 
since he'd resigned from the Bureau, and she was officially on 
maternity leave until the end of October.  Time wasn't an issue.  
Maybe a week at the beach was just what they needed.
 
Scully let out a breath, not ready to give in.  "I don't know..."
 
"You need to get away from this place, Scully," he said, glancing 
down at the baby.  Wim's eyelids were drooping, low and sleepy, 
fluttering as he fought to stay awake.  Stubborn, Mulder thought 
with a grin.  Just like his mom.  "You've been stuck in this 
apartment for four months now," he said.  "And it might be nice - a 
week at the beach."  He paused and looked up at her.  "I'm sure we 
can take whatever precautions needed to make it safe, if that's -"
 
"No," she said, shaking her head.  "No, it's not just that."
 
He watched her.  "Your mom, then?"
 
She rolled her neck, shrugging.  Straightening up, she moved toward 
them and laid her hand gently on Wim's head.  "It's my mom, it's my 
brother..." she glanced up at him briefly, "it's Wim...it's *us*..." 
she stopped, her hand sliding down to grasp his knee.  "It's a lot 
of things," she said.  "I don't know."
 
He nodded, saying nothing.  He was tempted to ask her what she meant 
by 'us,' even if he already knew.  She meant all of the things they 
hadn't talked about - all of the questions and problems and issues 
and hopes and fears that hung, untouched, unresolved between them, 
including and compounded by the fact that they had carefully avoided 
the conversation any time it came up.
 
Like now.
 
"Your brother will be there?" he asked, creating the habitual 
diversion.  The thought of spending a week with Bill Scully was not 
one that Mulder relished.  Bill Scully had detested him from the 
first moment they met.
 
"No," she replied, pursing her lips.  "We just have differences that 
my mother wants to see ironed out, and I know it will come up..."
 
He reached out to touch her face and bring her eyes back up to his. 
"I think we should go," he said.  She stared at him, taking a deep 
breath in and holding it.  "I think we should go," he said again.  
She let her breath go.
 
"My mother would still be there with us," she warned.
 
"I know."
 
"She's going to bring up a lot of questions I - we - may not be able 
to answer -"
 
"Well -" He brushed his thumb across her cheekbone still damp with 
tear-tracks, careful to keep his voice toneless, light.  "Maybe 
that's not such a bad thing, Scully."
 
She was quiet.  She dropped her eyes, gazing down at Wim, who had 
finally given in to sleep.  She smiled down on him before she looked 
back up at Mulder.
 
"You're sure?" she asked, bringing her hand up to his cheek, 
reflecting his own gesture.  Her thumb smoothed his sideburn.  
"You're sure you wouldn't mind?"
 
He turned his head to smile into her palm, and laid a gentle kiss 
there.  "Tell your mom we're coming," he said.
 
She sighed then, a sigh of relief, and he watched as some of the 
tension built up around her neck and shoulders found release in it.  
She stepped forward and pressed her lips to his, once, twice.  
"Thank you," she whispered.
 
He drew her close and held her to him with one arm.  "Come on," he 
said when they parted.  He scooped Wim gently against his shoulder 
and got up from the table, bringing them both back to bed.

~ 
Saturday
Late-September
~

"...No word on that from the National Weather Service yet folks, but 
we'll be sure to keep you informed!  For the latest on Tropical 
Storm Felix, keep it tuned right here to 97.1 WYND 'The Wind' - the 
Outer Banks' *best* -"

Mulder hit the 'seek' button on the car radio again and turned the 
air-conditioning off.  "Never let it be said that your mother 
doesn't have spectacular timing, Scully," he said with a grin.  He 
put their windows down, and the car was filled with a roar of 
swirling, sea-scented air.

Despite the tropical depression churning ever westward over the mid-
Atlantic and the dire predictions they had been hearing all day, the 
weather could not have been prettier.  The sky had taken on the pale 
blue and gold of a dwindling afternoon in late summer, the clouds 
not quite pinked with sunset yet.  She couldn't see the ocean from 
the road, but she could smell it now - knew that it was the other 
side of the dunes on their left.  The last several miles had seen a 
definite shift in the mood inside the car.  She took in a deep, 
contented breath of fresh air.

The holiday had begun.

Dana Scully smiled broadly as the wind lifted her hair, whipping it 
ribbon-like around her face.  She pushed it away from her forehead 
and held it back as she grinned over at him.  "You're *not* going to 
complain about the weather -!" she said, raising her voice over the 
noise.  Mulder smiled back.

"Ground-zero for tropical cyclones at the peak of hurricane season?" 
he shouted.  "What's to complain about?"

She gazed out her window, laughing.  "That's what I thought," she 
said.  She looked back at him suddenly.  "This time, if there's an 
evacuation -" she said, "- we're not waiting around to see what 
slithers out of the plumbing -"

Mulder took his eyes from the road long enough to give her his most 
wounded look.  "I can't imagine what you mean by that, Scully -"

"You know *exactly* what I'm talking about, Mulder," she said, 
referring, of course, to a case they had worked on together years 
ago.  A lifetimes ago, when their relationship was easily 
categorized by their working partnership.  She twisted to look into 
the backseat, where Wim was zonked out in his carrier, oblivious to 
the wind and noise.  She reached an arm back and gave his elbow a 
little squeeze.  "And...I can't say as I'd be there to save your ass 
again this time," she added, turning back to face front.  "I've got 
other things to worry about now..."

Mulder shook his head in amazement.  "Save *my* ass? Oh Scully, how 
quickly we forget..."

"How quickly *you* forget, Mulder.  I have perfect recall of that 
whole horrible night."

"Then you'll no doubt remember that *I* was the one who realized the 
fresh-water connection when I saw the cat sitting out -" 

"Yeah, and meanwhile I had already shot out the sprinklers."

"Um, I don't *think* so -"

"- and what saved lives that night, Mulder?" she went on, gazing out 
her window at the passing dunes.  "My setting the sprinklers off, or 
your *cat revelation*..?"
 
"Since when did *you* shoot the sprinklers out?" he protested.  "You 
didn't shoot anything out that night - it was that guy -"

"Mr. Suarez," she supplied.  "But I was the one -"

"No buts, Scully," he said, letting his mock indignation slip with a 
laugh. He reached across to snip her nose. "I can't believe you 
remembered that," he said, still laughing.

"I delivered the man's first-born son, Mulder," she said.  "I would 
hope I'd remember his name..."

Their laughter faded gently as they fell silent, and the constant 
buffeting of the wind was the only sound for the next several mile-
markers.  The empty dunes and the thickets of holly and black pine 
had begun to give way to houses - large vacation houses with 
weathered natural siding and layers of screened-in porches and sun-
decks, looming over the dunes on lattice-covered stilts.  Scully 
reached over and laid her hand over his leg, lightly grasping his 
thigh.

"I'm glad we came down here," she said.  "Storm or no storm."

~

Mulder turned the key in the ignition and they sat in the resting 
car a moment, sizing-up the house.

It was a two-story structure on stilts, with slate blue siding and 
white trimmed windows and doors.  There was a large deck on one 
side, with patio furniture and a built-in-barbecue.  A flight of 
wooden steps indicated a balcony of sorts around the other side.
 
"Nice," he commented, wondering why three people and a baby needed 
such a large house for a week at the beach.

"Very nice," Scully replied, her eyes moving away from the structure 
to follow the wood-planked walkway that extended over the sand dunes 
and grass toward the impatient sea.

They both opened their doors and stepped out of the car, the salty 
air blowing Scully's hair back away from her face.  She lifted her 
head and closed her eyes, a soft smile playing on her lips as the 
breeze caressed her face once again, like the return of a phantom 
lover.

The air smelled of sea and lumber, and Mulder smiled at the beauty 
of the impromptu moment, the pleasant and familiar surroundings, 
grateful once again that they had decided to come.  They needed this 
time together, away from the confines of apartment and city.  
Crossing behind the car, he pulled open the back passenger door to 
unsnap Wim's carrier from its base.

Wim kicked his chunky legs, impatient to see more than the inside of 
the car.  "We're here, buddy," Mulder smiled at him, kissing the 
downy top of his soft head.  Wim turned his face to greet the wind 
much like his mother had done minutes before.  Scully was watching 
him with an affectionate smile, her eyes raising to meet Mulder's in 
acknowledgement of the moment.

Maggie was already out the door of the house and heading down the 
stairs toward them, her dark hair newly cropped and eyes bright, 
anxious to get to her grandson.  She gave her daughter a quick kiss 
on the cheek with a breathy hello before focusing on the baby with a 
grandmother's indulgence.  Almost as an afterthought, she glanced up 
and smiled at Mulder with a welcoming "Hi Fox" before turning back 
to Wim, unbuckling his carrier straps and hoisting him into her 
arms.

"Did you have a nice trip?" she cooed at him, bouncing him lightly 
as Scully went around the back of the car and opened the trunk to 
retrieve their bags.  They were accustomed to traveling light, and 
between the two of them were able to carry everything they'd brought 
in one load, Maggie leading the way up the stairs and into the front 
room.

The house was open and airy, with high ceilings, and the yellow late 
afternoon sunlight brightening the large family-room from the large 
windows and French doors leading out to the deck beyond.  The floors 
were polished wood covered with bright, oversized rag rugs, and the 
canvas slipcovered furniture looked overstuffed and inviting.  
Mulder had seen enough beach houses in his lifetime to know it was 
everything a beach house should be - casual enough to withstand a 
little sand, and attractive enough to entertain guests without a 
second thought.
 
"I've left the windows open to circulate the air a bit," Maggie 
explained, crossing the room and sliding a window shut.  "We don't 
want it too drafty, do we?" she directed at Wim.  Without pausing 
she headed up the oak staircase, still cooing, "You've gotten so 
big!"

She glanced back over her shoulder at her daughter as they ascended, 
her voice changing to accommodate the shift from baby to adult.  
"I've set up a crib and changing table in the bedroom next to mine, 
that way I can help out in the middle of the night if you need me 
to."

Mulder tried to catch Scully's eye as he trailed behind on the 
stairs, the notion that they would be sharing a bedroom wall with 
her mother not boding well.  He wasn't a particularly quiet person, 
and with free time on their hands, he'd hoped that he and Scully 
might have a little one-on-one time. 

Scully didn't meet his glance.  On purpose, he was certain, and he 
began to grow uneasy. He didn't know Maggie Scully all that well, 
but he knew that she was Catholic, and that she was fairly 
conservative.  He found himself wondering just *how* conservatively 
Catholic she might be, especially where her youngest daughter was 
concerned.  Far more alarming than sharing a bedroom wall with 
Scully's mother was the notion that he might not be sharing a 
bedroom with Scully and Wim at all.

When a queen-size bed came into view, he paused just outside the 
doorway, waiting for Maggie to invite him in or order him under the 
stairs like a bad dog.  After a long moment, Scully turned and 
looked at him with her 'what the hell are you doing?' expression, 
which looked a lot like her 'shut-up I'm on the phone' expression, 
and he hesitantly followed her into the room.

Maggie was changing Will's diaper, and Scully had gravitated toward 
the window, looking out at the shoreline, mesmerized by the choppy 
water breaking into white-capped waves.  He stepped close behind 
her, taking in the view and trying to coax a vague memory of the 
place from his childhood, but nothing specific came to mind except 
old tales of Blackbeard and hidden treasure.

Scully sighed, and his attention turned back to her.  She was 
standing at the window, gazing out at the dunes just below, and the 
ocean beyond.  If the sea were a man, Mulder thought, he'd be 
insanely jealous.

"Why don't you go down there for a few minutes?" he whispered softly 
in her ear, "Wim's in good hands."

She remained still, weighing the suggestion and watching her mother 
button up Wim's jumper in the reflection of the glass.  After an 
internal struggle, she turned her head to the side, enough to be 
able to look Mulder in the eye.

"Come with me," she said, with the hint of a smile.

He smiled his approval at her first small step toward letting go of 
her fear, and they both turned to face Maggie.

"Go on," she said without sparing them a glance.  "My grandson and I 
will be just fine."

~

Wim refused his teething ring, slobbering happily on his chubby fist 
as Maggie watched his parents out the window, their pants legs 
rolled up and the two of them strolling side by side, barefoot in 
the wet sand.  The moment she'd laid eyes on her she'd seen Dana was 
exhausted, and had lost even more weight in the last few weeks.  
Maggie knew - better than most - that caring for a baby was a full-
time job, but the weariness in her daughter's eyes had immediately 
drawn her concern.  

Out on the sand, Dana seemed more like the daughter she knew, Fox 
standing tall and straight beside her, laughing as she dug for 
burrowing sand crabs in the retreating surf.  Wim did resemble his 
father quite a bit, although she couldn't help but recognize Dana's 
father in him as well.  Her William had been tall and straight like 
Fox.  But Dana's son had the crimson Scully hair and light blue 
eyes.  This baby may have been named for William Mulder, but he was 
every bit as much William Scully's grandson.

From the distance across the broad beach, Maggie could imagine once 
again seeing Dana as a young girl, playing with her adoring father, 
pulling him by both hands into the advancing foam.  The wisping of 
the sea oats and dune grass enhanced the dream-like quality of the 
vision, the image fading and the grown woman coming into focus once 
again as she pulled her partner's face down to hers for a kiss.  The 
kiss grew deeper as he reached out to draw her body against his, 
time expanding and contracting until their kiss broke gently, just 
as it had begun.  They wrapped their arms tightly around each other, 
Dana tucking her head under Fox's chin, oblivious to the pull of the 
tide as the water swelled and faded around their ankles.

Maggie sighed softly.  While the baby resembled both sides of his 
family tree, standing toe-to-toe with her daughter in the yellow-
pink sand, she could see a lot of the young William Scully in Fox 
Mulder as well.

~

"This was a great idea," Mulder whispered, still wrapped up in 
Scully's embrace.  She smiled against his chest, reveling in the 
warmth of his body, the thumping of his heart in contrast to the 
whistling wind in her hair and against her back.

"I'm glad we came."

He hummed in agreement.  "You taste good on the beach."

"You feel good on the beach," she responded sleepily, running her 
hands up his broad back and smiling wider as she heard his deep 
intake of breath and soft chuckle.

This thing between them, this connection was what they both drew the 
most strength from, and feeding it was as necessary as eating and 
breathing.  They had been separated for too many months before Wim's 
birth, and since they reunited, too-often intimacy was pushed into 
the background while day-to-day tasks and concerns took precedence.  
With so many other issues lying dormant between them, the importance 
of intimacy had expounded.

"The room next to your mother," he nearly groaned in a lower, 
huskier tone.  "We need to do something about that if we're going to 
stay the entire week."  He brushed his lips lightly over the top of 
her head.  "This is supposed to be a vacation."

"Did you notice..." she drew out the question, planting a series of 
soft kisses against the brushed cotton of his shirt, "the private 
bathroom on the other side of the room?"

He closed his eyes, his head falling back and his mouth dropping 
open as her lips traveled up his neck, closing gently around his 
Adams apple.  God, it felt good.  He remembered her hot mouth 
against his neck, her legs clamped around his hips.  It was before - 
before his life had been taken away, before Wim's existence was even 
a possibility - and her skin had squeaked against the wet tile as he 
pushed inside of her.  Just the two of them, joined.  They'd stayed 
in the shower until the water grew cold, their gasps and moans 
stifled by the hiss of the showerhead.

Maybe they could make due with the room next to her mother.

Lowering his face to hers, he kissed her open-mouthed, hot and 
urgent.  In just moments, the general wanting he lived with 
constantly transformed to a desire that demanded fulfillment.

"You know, your mom needs a little more one-on-one time with the 
baby.  It was a long drive, and I have that not so fresh feeling," 
he whispered, molding his body to hers and kissing her again.  
"Shower?"

Scully moaned against his mouth, pressing her body back against his 
as her fingers tangled in his hair.  Four months after Wim's birth, 
she was nearly the same woman whose flesh he'd learned and memorized 
before she'd become pregnant, and it had been so long since they'd 
been able to touch without restraint, to move freely without minding 
the limits of pregnancy, time or opportunity.  Pulling back, 
breathless, she opened her mouth to reply when a figure approaching 
on the wooden walkway stopped her cold, a look of shock and horror 
passing over her face.

Mulder saw her reaction and in seconds his protective instinct, 
honed to perfection by eight years of partnership and devotion, 
drove him to turn and face the source of her discomfort head-on.  
Instead of any one of the thousands of atrocities he could have 
anticipated, that he had already encountered and conquered, he found 
himself staring directly into the face of the one thing he would 
never have expected.  The one thing he was not prepared to battle.

Big brother Bill.

~

"Bill..." Scully's voice was hesitant, laced with surprise.

Bill hesitated as well, his awkwardness with the situation apparent, 
even though he looked every bit the polished Naval officer in 
civilian clothing.  "Mom said you were down here," he said with a 
smile, then glanced from her to Mulder, offering him a polite nod.

"Hey," Mulder responded congenially, taking a step forward and 
reaching out to shake his hand.  Bill stepped closer as well, and 
they clasped palms briefly, both men stepping back afterward.  There 
was an uncomfortable pause, then Bill said to Scully, "I saw the 
baby.  He's fallen asleep on Mom's shoulder.  Cute."

Scully nodded in response, seeing that he was trying to be pleasant 
despite the fact that the last time they talked, the conversation 
had turned very ugly.  "Thank you."  There was another awkward 
silence but she tried to shake it off. He was trying - she could do 
as much.  "I'm sorry...I'm just a little surprised to see you, Bill.  
Mom didn't mention you were coming."

"I guess she had her reasons," Bill replied.  After a moment, he 
added, "Tara's up at the house with Matty.  I thought maybe you'd 
want to come up and say hello."

Scully drew in a deep breath, glancing up at Mulder and then 
nodding.  She knew she should make sure Mulder was comfortable with 
the situation, hopefully without telling him everything that had 
been said between her and her brother the last time they spoke.  
"We'll be up in a little while."

Bill paused, then nodded, turning to leave.  His back stiffened, and 
he stopped, then turned to face them again.  "You know everyone on 
the beachfront can see you two down here?"

Scully fixed her gaze on him.  "And?"

He shifted slightly, "I was just thinking of Mom, that's all."

Mulder inwardly groaned, knowing how Scully would react to her older 
brother's censure.  Clearly, the man knew how to push her buttons.  
Scully's back straightened, and she crossed her arms in front of 
her, facing her brother.

"Mom or yourself?" she asked deliberately. 

He stared silently at her, his jaw tightening.  Scully glared at him 
a moment longer then muttered, "Forget it," and stomped past him 
toward the house, stopping only to grab her shoes.  Her shoulders 
squared, she left the two men standing barely a yard apart.  They 
were roughly the same height, but Bill was broader and had about 
twenty more pounds on him.  Bill stared out at the sea while 
Mulder's eyes followed Scully. 

Finally, Bill raised his eyes and Mulder met his gaze directly, not 
knowing what had been said before today but guessing that he figured 
predominantly in it.  Bill had labeled him a 'sorry son of a bitch' 
a few years back, but he'd let it slide out of respect for Scully.  
He respected Scully as much now if not more, but the situation had 
changed.

Notably, the introduction of Wim into the world.

"I heard you left the F.B.I.," Bill said, his expression neutral, 
although the hand in the side pocket of his trousers jangled his 
keys nervously.  "I guess you and my sister aren't partners any 
longer."  Mulder did not respond, still meeting his gaze.  Bill 
continued, "Dana hasn't said much about it, but it's not hard to 
guess who the father of her baby is."

Pursing his lips slightly, Mulder widened his stance, realizing that 
he was still standing barefoot in the ankle-waves, while Bill was 
dry on the sand, complete in his socks and deck shoes.  He crossed 
his arms in front of his chest defensively.  "If you're asking, you 
should take that up with her."

Bill nodded slightly, sizing up the man in front of him.  From the 
expression on his face, he still didn't care for what he saw.  "I 
know what I need to know," he said.  "Dana is my sister, and that 
baby is my nephew.  What I want to know is what your role is in all 
of this, now that the baby is here."  He paused, waiting for Mulder 
to respond, but met only silence and the same even gaze locked with 
his.  The silence seemed to irritate Bill further.  "I had a pretty 
good idea about you before I met you, Mr. Mulder.  My sister is in 
love with you, and I've had a pretty good idea about that for a long 
time as well -"

Mulder shifted his weight, cocking his head slightly to the right. 

"So the way I figure it," Bill went on, "you got her pregnant and 
you took off.  Some crap about being abducted by aliens and 
returning from the dead."  He scoffed.  "Well, now she's a single 
mother with a baby to raise.  You might be alive and kicking, but 
how long before you go chasing after another light in the sky?"

Mulder took a deep breath, reminding himself that the fundamental 
problem with Bill Scully was that he just didn't have a fucking clue 
about him, or them, or their work.  He'd encountered men like him 
every day when he'd worked at the Bureau.  He was more than 
accustomed to insults and personal attacks, and he could stand there 
and argue with the man, or try to convince him that he'd just as 
soon tear out his own heart and eat it as leave Scully and Wim 
without someone to watch over them.  But that would involve a longer 
explanation than Mulder was prepared to give.  And how could he 
explain the truth to him?  About aliens and oil, hybridization and 
colonization, and a threat to life as they all knew it that was so 
real and so frightening you could piss yourself just thinking about 
it.  He could try, but he still wasn't going to sell the truth to 
Bill Scully.  So instead of responding, he walked away, leaving the 
man standing alone on the beach with his ignorant, narrow-minded 
opinions intact.

~

"Please don't go, Dana," Bill's wife Tara was saying as Mulder 
entered the house.  "We haven't seen you in so long...and this is 
the first chance I've had to see the baby -"

Scully was standing at the foot of the staircase, Wim sleeping in 
her arms, while her mother and her sister-in-law stood before her 
with worried creases in their brows.  Bill and Tara's nearly four 
year-old son, Matthew, had dumped a bucket of army men in the middle 
of the coffee table, and was playing by himself while the women 
talked.  Scully looked up to meet Mulder's eyes as he approached, 
and he could see she was still angry.

His expression appeared neutral, but he made eye contact, letting 
her know that whatever she decided to do, he would go along with.

"He's your brother, Dana," Maggie said in Bill's defense.  "He feels 
its his duty since your father passed away to look out for all of 
us."  She let out a frustrated sigh, her hands coming to rest on her 
hips.  "Maybe it was wrong of me not to tell you he would be here," 
she said, an edge to her voice.  "But you two are both so *damn* 
stubborn, you'll never work this out if you're left to your own 
devices."

Wim whimpered against her chest, and Scully gently rocked him, 
lowering her voice.  "I am a thirty-seven year-old woman, Mom, and 
my own devices, along with Mulder, are what have made it possible 
for me to be here today.  It is not Bill's duty or even his right to 
tell me what I should be doing with my life, my career, my child, or 
whom I choose to share them with."

Tara glanced at Maggie with a helpless expression on her face, then 
at Mulder, embarrassment coloring her cheeks when he met her gaze.  
Matthew had noticed a stranger in the room and wandered over to his 
mother, his solemn eyes fixed on Mulder as he wrapped his arms 
around his mother's leg.

Mulder glanced down at him, offering him a bright smile.  "Hi."

The boy pressed closer into his mother's leg, his eyes still on 
Mulder.  Tara reached down and ran a hand over his blonde head, 
offering Mulder a polite smile.  "We met a few years back," she 
said, and Mulder nodded, raising his hand in a polite gesture.

"Christmas.  I remember," he said.

There was a small silence, and then Maggie's hands dropped to her 
sides, the edgy tone leaving her voice.  "It's been so long since 
we've been together as a family."  She paused, reaching out and 
caressing sleeping Wim's little head.  "Won't you at least try, 
Dana?"

Scully looked from her mother, to Wim, and then at Mulder again, and 
he raised his eyebrows at her, letting her know that it was still 
her call.  He threw her a quick nod toward the toy-covered coffee-
table before looking back down at Matthew.

"What have you got over there?" he asked the toddler, pointing at 
the pile of army men.  "Wanna show me?"

~

"You wanna play?" Matthew asked Mulder, his face splitting into a 
wide grin.  He ran over to the table, dropping down to his knees and 
grabbing an artillery man as Mulder sat down next to him, glancing 
up at Scully with amusement.  Matthew held the artillery man out to 
him.  "Here, you want this one?"

Watching Mulder accept the toy, Scully let out a soft huff.  He 
could amaze her with his gentleness at the most unexpected times.  
Just then, Bill walked in the front door, and she looked up at him, 
their eyes meeting.  It was getting late, and she didn't like the 
idea of driving six hours back to D.C. so soon after driving all the 
way down.  Closing her eyes, she let out a long sigh.

"I suppose we could stay the night and see how it goes," she said 
softly.

Maggie and Tara both turned and looked expectantly at Bill, who 
glanced over to see Mulder playing with his son, before focusing his 
attention back on the women at the foot of the stairs.

"Billy will be on his best behavior, won't you Billy?" Tara said, 
walking over and putting her arm through his.  Matthew was making 
explosion noises in the background.  Tara gave Scully a look of 
solemn promise.  "He'll keep his opinions to himself."

Bill sighed at his wife with resignation, then looked over at his 
sister, his mother, then his sister once more.  Nodding, he pressed 
his lips together in a line of acceptance.

"Of course."

Maggie raised a hand to her mouth, her gratitude shining in her 
eyes.  She reached out to touch her daughter's shoulder and at the 
same moment Wim let out a squeak, thrashing his arms and opening his 
mouth to wail in hunger.  She dropped her hand in surprise.

"Hey there," Scully greeted him softly, "Are you ready for dinner?"

Tara approached her, her arms held out and a hopeful smile on her 
face.  "Let me give him his bottle?"

Scully looked at her a moment, then smiled gently.  "Sure."  She 
carefully handed Wim over to his aunt, who beamed brightly at him.  
He stopped wailing and whimpered, temporarily distracted by the new 
face in front of him.

"I forgot how small they are," she said, raising her eyes to 
Scully's before smiling down at the baby once more.  "You're 
beautiful," she told him softly.  Then she looked over at Bill, who 
smiled at her in spite of the awkward tension that still filled the 
room.

Wim squawked, and Maggie broke in.  "I'm sure we could all use 
something to eat.  Why don't I get started on our dinner as well?"

Scully and Bill shared a quick glance, followed by a reconciliatory 
grimace.  She had her doubts that Bill would be able to hold his 
tongue, but she'd already promised her mother she would try.

~

Dinner was strained, but civil, with Maggie and Tara doing most of 
the talking and the rest of them sitting, not much wanting to add to 
the conversation.  Mulder had had to stifle what would have seemed 
like an inappropriate laugh when the thought occurred to him that 
the two books he had brought with him were almost certainly not 
going to be enough to fill the hours until they left.  Not unless 
something happened to lighten things up...

Or unless they left.

"Bill might have promised to be on his best behavior, but that 
doesn't change anything," Scully was saying under her breath.  She 
still hadn't decided whether they would stay beyond the following 
afternoon, and had been rationalizing out loud for the last fifteen 
minutes.  "Once his mind is made up, it's made up. It's always been 
hard for the rest of us to deal with him. Mom never realized..."

They were standing on either side of the queen-sized bed in their 
room, pulling the pale blue matelasse bedspread down and dropping 
the pillows onto the floor.  Wim was tucked into his crib, Bill and 
Tara were settling into their bedroom downstairs, and Maggie had 
brought Matthew up with promises of not one but two bedtime stories 
if he helped her carry sheets to everyone.  They had just dropped 
off a stack of clean linens before saying goodnight, Matthew pulling 
his grandma back toward the stairs.

Scully picked up the fitted sheet and unfolded it.  "I don't know if 
I can take a whole week of walking on eggshells and pretending 
everything is okay," she muttered, shaking her head.  Mulder reached 
across the bed for the corner of the sheet, looking up and meeting 
the apologetic expression on her face.  "I'm sorry, Mulder," she 
said.  "This really isn't how I thought -"

"I know," he said, pulling the sheet tight over his side.

"Do you think we should stay?"

He paused.  Yes, he did think they should stay.  Maybe it wasn't 
going to be the quiet getaway he'd originally envisioned, but there 
was still a small voice within telling him this was where they 
needed to be right now.  "I think you're going to hurt your mother's 
feelings if we leave without attempting to make it work," he said 
carefully.  "It isn't going to solve anything."

"I didn't come down here to 'solve' anything," she said, tossing 
half of the flat-sheet across to him.  He caught it and helped her 
unfurl it over the bed, throwing her a slightly challenging look.  
Scully let out a scornful huff.  "You know what I mean, Mulder.  And 
I sure as hell didn't come down here to listen to my brother 
moralize about *my* life -"

Mulder pulled the pillow-cases on while Scully finished tucking the 
sheet around the bed.  He had to smile, admiring her ass as she bent 
to make perfect hospital corners with silent, angry precision.  
Secure in the knowledge that he was not himself the cause of her ire 
- at the moment - he could afford the luxury of enjoying how 
severely adorable she could be when she was angry.  He threw the 
pillows against the headboard and caught her around the waist as she 
came over to his side.  "Well," he said, trapping her against his 
chest.  "Just think of that as an added *perk*."

She scowled up at him.  "Don't laugh at me, Mulder."

"I'm not laughing at you!" he said - laughing.  He pulled her closer 
and kissed her cheekbone.  "We'll do whatever you want," he said.  
He kissed the hollow of her other cheek, then dipped lower and left 
a kiss on the tip of her chin.  "We can leave at the crack of dawn 
tomorrow, if you like.  But you *know*..."

He stopped long enough to kiss her mouth.  A long, wet kiss. 

"You know," he whispered again, his hands roaming downward, over the 
compact little butt he had just been admiring.  "We're here *now*," 
he said, "with not one, but *two* willing babysitters.  And there 
seems to be a large, freshly made bed *right over there* -"
 
Their second kiss was interrupted by a soft knock on the slightly 
open door.  "Dana?" Maggie called softly before sticking her head 
in.

Scully took a step back from Mulder and wiped her mouth on the side 
of her hand.

"Yeah, Mom. What is it?"

"Are you coming to Mass in the morning?" Maggie asked softly.

Scully hesitated for only a second.  "Um," she said.  "Yeah, I'll 
come."

Maggie smiled warmly.  "Good," she said.  "It's about a half-hour 
drive, so Bill wanted to leave by 8:15 - is that okay?"

Scully took a deep breath and let it out.  "Fine," she said, nodding 
and rubbing her hand against her hairline.  "I'll be up." 

"You're welcome to join us if you like, Fox," Maggie said, watching 
him hopefully.  Mulder smiled his appreciation.

"Thanks," he said.  He reached out and brushed Scully's shoulder 
blade with his fingertips.  "But I think I'll stick around here... 
hold down the fort."

Maggie nodded, her disappointment mild, her eyes flitting between 
the two of them and the newly made bed.  "Well then," she said.  
"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Mom."

"Don't forget I'm right next door if William is up in the night," 
Maggie said.

"Mom, you don't have to -"

"I'm looking forward to it," Maggie said fondly, standing up 
straight.  "I'm sure you two probably can't remember what it was 
like to get a full night's sleep."

Maggie's observation was followed by what felt like a long silence, 
during which Mulder watched a slow blush creep up Scully's neck and 
over her face.  It wasn't that Maggie assumed too much, but contrary 
to Mulder's earlier thoughts regarding her conservative nature, she 
seemed to have accepted and assimilated certain basic facts about 
them which they themselves still struggled.  Maggie was aware of the 
uneasiness her innocent comment had produced, and she seemed to 
inwardly sigh.

"Well, goodnight," she said again. 

Mulder and Scully stood, not moving, for several seconds after she 
left.  Scully stared absently at Wim as he slept.

"He'll be ready to eat again before long," she said, walking toward 
her side of the bed.  She turned the sheet down, looking tired.  
"Let's just go to bed."

Mulder grabbed his bag from a nearby chair and headed for the 
private bathroom Scully had mentioned so provocatively just a few 
hours before. He had hoped that these tiles and fixtures might be 
the scene for a special reunion of sorts tonight; he'd thought about 
this bathroom more than once during dinner and the long awkward time 
that had followed, looking forward to the moments they'd have there 
later.

Now, as he dropped his bag in the corner and stooped to lift the 
toilet seat, it just looked like any other bathroom.

~

It took them a long time to relax, spooned loosely against each 
other on the unfamiliar bed, under the thin, careworn sheet from 
Maggie Scully's own linen closet.  They had left the window open to 
the breeze, which carried the smell of sand and dry grass, lumber, 
and the ocean in with it, along with all the sounds of the nighttime 
beach.  Cicadas scratched incessantly in the dunes, their collective 
noise swelling and receding with a slow pulse that echoed the dull 
shush of the waves beyond.  Somewhere very near the window, perhaps 
even somewhere in the room with them, a single cricket let out 
irregular, melancholy chirps.
 
Scully sighed, drifting near the edge of sleep, only peripherally 
aware of Mulder's arm draped along her hip, his breath on the back 
of her neck.  She had long since lost tether on her thoughts and was 
traveling around her semiconscious mind like someone flying through 
an ether, with the sounds from within and without the room filling 
her ears like an aural backdrop.
 
A muffled sound, both soft and sharp, penetrated her consciousness, 
separate from the other noises.  It took her a moment to realize 
that what she was hearing was outside her own head, and outside the 
room.  She recognized it as the sound of car doors shutting. 

A rush of adrenaline brought her awake at once, and she pushed 
herself up on one elbow, looking immediately toward Wim's crib.  The 
sounds outside continued.

Voices.  Quiet laughter.

Mulder stirred behind her, waking with a sharp inhalation, and 
tightening his arm around her middle.  "What's going on?" he asked.

She didn't answer, listening to the sound of feet coming up the long 
flight of wooden steps outside as her heart thumped in her throat.  
Her eyes sought out the crib again.  Wim was safe.  He was sleeping 
and he was safe.  Hushed voices came in through the open window; 
something fell, bouncing back down the steps.  Someone hissed 
"*Shhhit* -" and another voice - a female voice - laughed softly. 

"Is someone here?" Mulder asked. 

"Shhh..." Scully was awake enough now to know there was no danger, 
but straining to hear what was going on outside over the sound of 
her own receding heartbeat.

Maggie must have heard the noise too; they could hear her moving 
around in the bedroom next door.  The light in the hall clicked on, 
shining around the edges of their door, and Scully sensed rather 
than heard her mother moving in the hall and down the stairs.

The indistinct noises had migrated to the main room downstairs, 
where the front door had been opened to a rush of voices in which 
Scully could now distinguish her mother's along with at least two 
others.  She listened intently, trying to make out a word...to 
recognize the other voices.  Behind her, Mulder yawned.

"You don't suppose Bill and Tara are leaving under cover of 
darkness...?" he murmured, raspy with sleep and close to her ear.  
She smiled at his joke and lay her hand over his.

"No - someone just got here," she said, still focusing her attention 
on the trio of voices below.  One of them was a male voice, a mellow 
tenor she knew she should know.  She frowned slightly, and then she 
smiled, pushing herself upright and swinging her legs over the side 
of the bed.  "I think it's my brother," she said.

"Bill?"

"No -"
 
Downstairs, the tenor she was focusing on broke into an unchecked 
peal of laughter that she recognized immediately.  She got up and 
went to the door, smiling over her shoulder at Mulder.  "It's 
Charlie -"

Sure enough, she arrived at the bottom of the stairs to see her 
mother standing at the door, caught up in her younger brother's 
arms. 

"...got into Norfolk around eleven-thirty," he was saying, "and we 
rented - hey!"  He caught sight of Scully over Maggie's shoulder, 
his face breaking into a wide grin.  Scully watched, smiling, as he 
leaned back to give his mother a look of exaggerated confusion.   "I 
thought you said Dane wasn't coming?" he teased.

"Well -" Maggie stammered, but Charlie had already let go of her and 
stepped forward to scoop his sister up in a bear-hug.  Scully 
laughed in surprise and delight as he lifted her right off the 
floor.  She squeezed him tightly back, pressing her cheek to his 
shoulder.

"Charlie -!" 

"Hi, sis," he said, beaming down at her and dropping her lightly 
back to the floor.  He bent and kissed her cheek.

Scully put her hands up to his broad shoulders, holding him at arm's 
length so she could get a good look at him.  It had been more than 
five years since she had seen her younger brother - not since the 
last time she and Mulder had been in Northern California on a case, 
and Charlie had been working as the shop-boy in a small art studio 
in San Francisco.  He seemed bigger to her now - broader through the 
shoulders and chest - and she noticed with a slight pang the tiny 
lines where the sun had etched his smile around his eyes.  The eyes 
themselves hadn't changed though - bright blue that rivaled her own, 
sparkling at her from behind a pair of square horn-rimmed glasses.

"Long time no see," he said.

"Too long," she agreed, ruffling his mop of golden-brown hair and 
letting her hand slide down to caress his scruffy cheek.  He grinned 
down at her.

"Man it's good to see you," he said, pulling her close for another 
squeeze.  Then he stepped aside, still holding on to his sister's 
hand, and gestured back toward the doorway, where, Scully realized, 
there was a woman standing, smiling unreservedly at them.  Charlie 
reached for her hand, looking like his face might split with 
grinning.  He glanced anxiously at his mother and sister.  "Mom, 
Dane - this is Joy."

The woman waiting in the doorway stepped inside and grasped Maggie's 
hand.  "Joy Yuen," she said, smiling brightly.  She was tall - 
nearly as tall as Charlie, Scully noticed - with flawless caramel 
colored skin and Asian features. She turned and took Scully's hand, 
giving it an assertive squeeze, and Scully found herself looking 
directly into Joy's twinkling black eyes.  "I'm really glad to meet 
you both."

"Likewise," Scully said, returning the woman's frank, amiable gaze, 
and feeling especially short.  Joy was like an Amazon in a ball-cap; 
Scully and her mother barely cleared her shoulders.

"I told you about Joy, Mom," Charlie said.

"Of course," said Maggie, nearly recovered from the surprise of 
their unexpected arrival, her voice betraying only the slightest 
uncertainty.  "It's nice to -"

"Is that Charles?"

"Hey, man -!"

Bill had come out of the hallway behind the stairs, and the three 
women watched as the brothers stepped forward to greet one another. 
Charlie laughed at the formal hand his older brother extended, and 
pulled Bill into a back-thumping embrace.  "It's great to see you, 
Billy."

Bill stepped back, smiling awkwardly and running his hand along the 
back of his closely-cropped head.  "Mom told us you couldn't come," 
he said.  Everyone turned to look at Maggie, who returned their 
stares with a look of startled innocence.

"And here *I* was told that Dana wasn't coming..." Charlie said 
dramatically, narrowing his eyes at his mother with mock suspicion.  
"Mom...?  Care to explain yourself here?"

"You never told me for certain whether you were coming or not, young 
man," Maggie defended herself, unable to keep the smile from her 
lips.  Her eyes softened and grew misty as she glanced among her 
three children.  She reached up to pat Charlie's cheek.  "But I'm 
glad you're here," she said.  She looked at Joy.  "And I'm very glad 
to meet you Joy, finally."

Bill stepped forward to try his handshake on Joy.  "I imagine you've 
probably already guessed, but I'm Charles's older brother, Bill.  
Nice to meet you."

Joy accepted the offered hand with a smile.  "Joy Yuen, likewise." 

Scully saw the flicker of surprise that crossed Bill's face in 
response to Joy's firm grasp, and caught the way he sized up the 
other woman's impressive figure.  Joy was wearing a short tee-shirt 
over low-slung sweatpants that left her lean midriff bare, and 
revealed her small silver navel-ring.  Scully suppressed a laugh at 
her older brother's less than subtle ogling, and turned just in time 
to see Mulder at the top of the stairs holding Wim.

~

The group by the door turned, following Scully's gaze up the stairs 
to where Mulder stood with Wim sleeping against his shoulder.  
Maggie smiled and beckoned to him.  "Fox - come down and meet Dana's 
brother," she said.
 
Mulder walked down the stairs slowly, his attention drawn to the 
newcomers.  Over the years, Scully had told him a little about her 
younger brother - how they had fought as kids, but grew closer in 
high school; how Charlie had inherited all the artistic talent in 
the family, and now worked as a sculptor for a big computer 
animation company.  Mulder knew too that Charlie was notoriously 
outside the family loop - had not been home for family holidays 
since Captain Scully had died - and he was the only member of 
Scully's family whom Mulder had yet to meet.  Mulder came off the 
last step with his hand held out.

"Charlie," he said with a smile.

Charlie grinned and took Mulder's hand eagerly.  "So this is the 
Mysterious Mr. Fox Mulder," he said.  "Well holy shit, Batman."

Maggie clicked her tongue.  "Charlie -"

Charlie glanced at his mother while the others laughed. "Sorry -!" 
He looked back toward Mulder.  "Well, holy *something*, I guess. I 
was beginning to wonder if you really existed."

"I've had occasion to wonder that myself," Mulder said, taking 
Charlie's hand.  He caught Scully's eye for a moment, and gave her a 
wan smile.  "But I guess the truth is stranger than fiction..."

"Is there a party going on out there or what?"

This time it was Tara making her way into the foyer with a grumpy 
looking Matthew on one hip.  She gave Charlie a big, open-mouthed 
smile.  "I *knew* I recognized your voice!"

She crossed immediately to give Charlie a kiss on the cheek, and 
didn't notice Joy until she had nearly walked into her.  Tara took a 
startled step back, laughing nervously as she stumbled to find a 
space for herself amid the crowd in front of the door.  "Hi - sorry 
- hi," she laughed, going red in the face as she hitched Matthew 
higher on her hip.  "I'm Bill's wife, Tara."
 
Mulder saw the relaxed indulgence in Joy's smile as she put out a 
hand to touch the back of Matthew's head.  He noticed too that she 
had a small tattoo in the webbing between her thumb and forefinger, 
and immediately wondered what it was.  "Joy Yuen," she said in 
response to Tara's greeting.  She looked up then, meeting Mulder's 
eyes as if she knew he had been watching her.

"Is that Matthew?" Charlie was saying, grabbing one of the little 
boy's dangling feet.  Matthew turned his face into his mother's 
shoulder and tried to pull his foot away.  Charlie grinned at Tara. 
"Jeez he got big."

"That's what happens when you wait a year between visits," Tara 
laughed.  "Babies *grow*."

"Speaking of which -" Charlie turned back to look at Mulder, peering 
at the tiny body sleeping against his shoulder.  He glanced at his 
sister.  "Is this -?"

Scully nodded, smiling, and Mulder carefully shifted Wim from his 
shoulder for Charlie to see.  Charlie leaned forward with a chuckle.

"*I see Scully-hair*..." he sang, brushing his knuckles against the 
copper-colored down on Wim's head.  Charlie turned toward Joy, who 
had been watching everything with an amused smile.  "Believe it or 
not," Charlie told her, "I used to have hair just like this."

"So what happened?" Joy teased.

"Your hair was never that light," Maggie said absently as Joy 
stepped forward to look at Wim.  "Dana was the only one of you with 
hair that red..."

"He's gorgeous," Joy said, glancing up to smile at Scully. Then she 
turned her eyes on Mulder.  "I'm Joy Yuen," she said.  She lifted 
one brow slightly.  "I've heard a little bit about the Mysterious 
Mr. Mulder."

Mulder felt a brief jolt of alarm as he looked back at her; he 
wasn't sure exactly how much Scully or her mother might have told 
the rest of her family about him - or more particularly about the 
latest and most bizarre events in his life.  He knew that Scully had 
been guarded with the details she had divulged to her mother, but 
Maggie had been there through the ordeal of the previous year, had 
held her daughter's hand through his funeral.  There was no telling 
what she may or may not have told her other children.  Mulder felt 
his stomach lurch slightly, thinking that he wasn't really up to 
playing Dead Man Walking all week.

Joy saw the look that crossed Mulder's face and turned her attention 
back to Wim with an easy laugh.  "Charlie told me you're Dana's 
partner at the FBI," she clarified, glancing back at him and holding 
his gaze amicably.

Mulder's mouth turned up at the corner.  "Well, that news is a 
little outdated," he said, looking down at Wim.

Joy raised her eyebrows, waiting for elaboration, and there was an 
uncomfortable silence for several seconds.  Scully cleared her 
throat and stepped forward to touch Wim's foot.

"Mulder doesn't work at the Bureau anymore," she said, meeting Joy's 
eyes briefly.

Joy nodded.  "Well," she said, smiling down at the sleeping baby, "I 
guess this is a better kind of partnership anyway."

Mulder heard Bill's soft laugh, and looked up. Bill was gazing down 
at Wim.

"Let's hope this one is a little more traditional, huh?" he said 
with a sour chuckle, glancing at Mulder.  Mulder set his jaw and 
said nothing, looking up to see Joy staring at him again, her 
almond-shaped eyes narrowed shrewdly. 

"Oh, I don't know," she said, her voice low.  "'Traditional' isn't 
all it's cracked up to be."

Charlie laughed and stepped forward plant a kiss on Joy's neck. 
Mulder dropped his head, biting the inside of his cheek to conceal a 
smile caused not only by Joy's balls-out attitude, but from the 
memory of his earlier conversation with Scully about lasting the 
week.  The new additions to the household would liven things up a 
bit, at least.  He glanced up and met Joy's direct gaze again, 
noticing the hint of triumph in her eyes.  She smiled at him.

"We still have some stuff in the car," Charlie announced, pulling 
Joy back toward the door.  Bill followed them onto the deck.

"If there's a lot, why don't you just wait until morning?" he called 
after them.  "These babies need to sleep sometime tonight -"

Charlie gave his brother an off-hand salute as he jogged back down 
to the driveway.  Coming back into the house, Bill set his fists on 
his hips, surveying them with the attitude of a captain inspecting 
his crew.  "I think we all ought to go on back to bed," he said.  He 
took Matthew out of Tara's arms and headed toward the back bedrooms. 
"Come on, pal. Enough excitement for one night." 

Mulder turned toward Scully and she looked up at him, letting out 
the breath she'd been holding with an expression of sorely abused 
patience.  "These are those 'perks' you were talking about, right?" 
she asked under her breath.  Mulder smiled and squeezed the back of 
her neck.

Tara moved to follow her husband and son down the hall.  "Well, 
goodnight, guys," she said.  "See you in the morning."

"Goodnight, Tara," said Maggie.

Scully reached up to take Wim, who had come awake and seemed to be 
considering a good scream.  "I think I'll give him his bottle," she 
said, settling the baby on her shoulder.  "I'll be up in a little 
while."

She walked Wim into the kitchen area, and Mulder and Maggie were 
left standing in the foyer.  Maggie gave him a small, tired smile.

"Think they need help carrying things up?" Mulder asked. 

Maggie took a deep breath and walked to the door, where she flipped 
on the switches for the lights over the stairs outside. 

"I'm sure they can manage on their own, Fox," she said.  She put her 
hand on his arm as she passed and looked up at him, giving his arm a 
pat.  "You and Dana take William back to bed."

Mulder gave her a smile as she headed back up the stairs, and 
wandered to the kitchen, where Scully was sitting at the center-
island, feeding Wim a bottle. 

"If it isn't the Mysterious Mr. Mulder," she said softly.  In the 
dimness of the room, Mulder couldn't tell if she was smiling or not.  
Mulder pulled up a stool and sat, brushing the top of her foot with 
his.  She looked up at him a moment, then back at Wim. They sat in 
silence until Wim had drained the bottle, then rose and climbed the 
stairs back to their room, and returned Wim to his crib, all without 
saying a word. 

The darkness in their bedroom was like a tangible thing between them 
as they lay back down.  Mulder folded one arm behind his head, his 
other hand lying flat and latent in the space between he and Scully.  
He consciously willed his body to relax, listening as the beach 
sounds made their way back into the room and into his subconscious: 
the wisp of the wind against the screens...the rolling scratch of 
the cicadas and crickets, the distant roar of the surf...

Scully reached into the space between them, searching for his hand.  
Once she found it she twined their fingers together, letting out a 
soft sigh.

Through it all, he lay, wondering, waiting - like everyone else - to 
see how the Mysterious Mr. Mulder was going to fit in with this 
family.

~
Sunday
~

The sun at eight o'clock was already bright and hot, promising a 
perfect beach-day later as it bounced off the white concrete 
driveway and under Scully's sunglasses.  She stood in the open side-
door of Bill's rented minivan, waiting.  Behind her, Matthew and Wim 
were buckled into their car seats, ready to go.  Matthew, who had 
been singing pleasantly to himself, stopped suddenly.

"Where *are* they?" he asked with an exaggerated sigh. With his 
child's voice and his difficulty pronouncing the letter 'r', it came 
out more like *Wew ahhhh dey?* - Scully smiled and turned to look 
into the dim interior of the van.

"They're coming, sweetie," she said, checking that Wim's seat was 
fastened securely.  Wim waved his fists at her, his tongue poking 
through the tiny *o* of his lips.  She tapped his nose lightly with 
one finger, and was rewarded with a smile and a cheerful squeak.  
Smiling, she reached across the seat and tickled Matthew's knee, 
making him cackle.  "Your dad just had to change his tie..."

And why that should have taken three adults to accomplish, she 
couldn't imagine.  She glanced at her watch, wondering what Bill and 
Tara and her mother were doing in the house.  After all the fuss 
Bill had made about leaving by 8:15, he would be the only reason 
they were late to mass.

Of course, that wasn't *entirely* true, she thought.  Bill was 
changing his tie because Wim had spit formula up on him as they were 
settling him into his car seat.  Scully put her head down and 
grinned, unable to restrain a wicked chuckle thinking of the 
accuracy of her boy's aim.  She was still smiling when Bill came 
bounding down the wooden steps, fixing his collar, with Tara and 
Maggie just behind.  Bill ducked his head to peer into the car as he 
jogged around to the driver's side.

"We all ready?" he asked.  "Mom, why don't you sit up front - Tara 
and Dana can sit in back to watch the kids -"

Tara looked at Scully and rolled her eyes as she climbed into the 
far back, causing Scully to snort with laughter.  Matthew twisted 
awkwardly in his seat to look at his mother and aunt.  "Why you 
laugh?" he demanded as Scully slid the side-door closed.

"Nothing," Tara laughed.  "Are you all buckled up, baby?"

"Yes."

"Yes what, Matthew?" Bill asked from the front, watching through the 
rear-view mirror as he backed them out of the driveway.

"Yes ma'am," Matty replied with a self-satisfied smile.

"That's more like it," Bill said, with a nod.

They drove in silence for a while, with Matthew singing tunelessly 
and the wind swirling around inside the car.  Wim, who faced Dana 
and Tara in his car seat, was charming his aunt with a series of 
spit-bubbles while Tara cooed over him, tweaking his toes through 
his socks.

"Mom told us you haven't planned a christening yet," Tara said 
quietly, glancing at her sister-in-law.

Scully blinked, not sure how to respond.  They were on a long flat 
stretch of highway now, and Bill had picked up speed, shutting the 
windows and turning on the air-conditioner.  Suddenly, the van 
seemed very quiet.

"No," Scully replied, hoping that the subject would drop.  Baptizing 
Wim was just one of the many issues she and Mulder had managed to 
avoid in the last several weeks.  It was complicated - that's what 
she'd been telling herself for months now, the excuse she sheltered 
under whenever the subject threatened to come up.  She wasn't ready.  
It was a conversation she knew would inevitably lead to a larger 
discussion of religion, to a deconstruction and justification of 
their own personal beliefs, a declaration of their plans for Wim's 
spiritual education and upbringing.  She was only just getting used 
to his feeding schedule - she wasn't ready to argue about what 
church they would take him to...if in fact Mulder wanted Wim to grow 
up as a member of an organized church at all.  

Which was not to say that she didn't know what she wanted; she 
wanted Wim to share her faith - to have him baptized into the 
Catholic Church.  She hadn't dared say this to Mulder yet.  For 
someone so willing to believe, he had shown remarkably little 
patience for anything even remotely smacking of dogma.  She could 
just imagine the way he'd respond to the idea of having a priest 
bless their son with consecrated water. She took a deep breath and 
steeled herself.

"I was telling Bill you've probably just been too busy to think 
about it," Tara said, careful not to make eye contact.  Talk about 
not entirely true, Scully thought.

Maggie had turned to look over her shoulder at them.  "Too busy to 
think about what?" she asked.  

Scully avoided her mother's stare, squeezing her back teeth together 
and glancing out the window, then down at her hands.
  
Tara cleared her throat.  "William's christening," she said.

"You really need to start making plans for that, Dana," Maggie said, 
turning to face front again.  "You're going to be surprised at how 
many arrangements there are to make.  If you'd like, I could call 
Father McCue when we get home."

"No - Mom, that's not necessary -"

Maggie turned around again.  "What?  Honey?  I don't mind -"

"No, Mom."

"Did you want to do it somewhere else?" Maggie asked. Her face was 
lined with concern.  "Somewhere closer to you?  I guess it doesn't 
*have* to be at St. John's -"

"It's not that," Scully said, letting her breath out as she shifted 
uncomfortably in her seat.  She knew there was no easy way out of 
the conversation now.  Maggie was twisted nearly completely around 
in her own seat, watching her.

"Then what?"

"Ten to one she and Mulder can't agree how they're going to raise 
the baby," Bill said, flicking a glance at his sister through the 
rear-view mirror.  Scully could feel the blood rising in her face.

"Maybe you've forgotten how much work a newborn is, Billy," Maggie 
said warmly.  Bill sought out Scully's eyes in the mirror again, and 
she returned his stare, warning him that she didn't want to discuss 
the subject any further.

"But Mulder's not a Catholic, is he, Dana?" he said, turning his 
eyes back toward the road.  "Is he even Christian?"

"Billy, that has nothing to do with *anything*," Tara said with 
exasperation, giving Scully a nervous glance.  Scully took another 
deep breath.  Bill might have promised to be on his best behavior, 
but she had known he wouldn't be able to keep his mouth shut when 
something went against his idea of how things ought to be.  He had 
never known when to leave something alone.  Scully clenched her jaw 
tight and focused on Wim.  They should just leave, she thought.  As 
soon as they got back from church, she would have Mulder take their 
things back to the car, and they would drive back to D.C. that 
afternoon - 

Bill was laughing to himself.  "I wouldn't be surprised if he was 
trying to talk you into inducting William into some kind of UFO cult 
-"

"Billy -" Tara interjected.

"UFO cult or *not* -" Scully said, her tone low and clipped, "*I* 
have yet to make any decisions regarding William's christening.  If 
there's going to be a christening at all."

The van was silent.

If they hadn't happened to be on such a particularly desolate 
stretch of the coastal highway, if the road itself had had any kind 
of shoulder or a single tree to offer shade, Scully would have 
demanded that Bill pull over and let her and Wim out.  Her phone was 
in the diaper-bag - Mulder was only a call and a fifteen-minute 
drive away.  If she had not been afraid for Wim's safety on the side 
of the road, she wouldn't have hesitated.

Maggie looked stricken in the front seat.  "Oh," she said, the words 
sinking in.  "Oh."

Scully sighed.  Trust her mother to pack thirty-seven years worth of 
Catholic guilt into a single syllable.

"Mom..."

"No, Dana, that's fine," Maggie said, gazing out past the 
windshield.

Scully gazed out at the passing dunes, knowing that the topic may 
have been dropped - for now - but that it would bounce back sooner 
than she would prefer.  However honest, or not, she may have been in 
saying that it was her own decision that had indefinitely postponed 
Wim's baptism, Bill had known the truth.  And if they stayed, he 
would likely be there to catch the rebound when the subject came up 
again.

~

Mulder yawned drowsily and glanced at his reflection in the vanity 
mirror over the bathroom sink.  He needed a shave, there were lines 
around his eyes that he could swear hadn't been there when he'd gone 
to bed, and his hair stuck out all over his head.  But he felt good.  
He hadn't slept much, between Charlie's arrival, the looping mental 
soundtrack, and Scully's early wakeup call for Mass, but the morning 
looked blue and clear, and he could see the potential the coming 
week held for the two of them.  Potential for opening some of the 
locked doors that still stood between them.  They were away from 
home, away from work, and surrounded by family, which he hoped
might spark a conversation or two.  Get the ball rolling.  Besides, 
in a house full of Scullys, there would be plenty of opportunity to 
spend some one-on-one time with his one and only while the relatives 
cooed over Wim's enchanting fart-and-grin routine.

He chuckled to himself at the thought.  He had to admit, it had held 
him entranced on more than one occasion until Scully had told him 
that the chubby-cheeked, toothless gape wasn't a real smile.  It was 
the gas.  Since then he still enjoyed the display, but it wasn't the 
same as thinking that you've made a deep, meaningful connection with 
your son.

Without anyone to know otherwise, Mulder scratched and improvised 
his own version of Wim's well-rehearsed routine, then he moved over 
to the toilet to finish his own morning ritual.  This triggered his 
memory, reminding him that just after Scully's wake-up call and 
before he'd rolled over to go back to sleep, Scully had asked him to 
go out for some more diapers.  He would finish up in here and make a 
run to the store and pick them up before she got home, and maybe get 
a little exposure to the community in the process.

He yawned again, and his head lolled sleepily to one side.  Everyone 
had gone to church; he had the house to himself.  The idea seemed 
luxurious - an entire beach house to himself, for a few hours 
anyway.  No where to be, no one to care if he walked downstairs in 
his boxers... He could just lie around and take advantage of the 
solitude before the family returned -

His head snapped back up as a heavy *thump* pounded the wall just 
above and to the right of his head.  Blinking, he wondered if he'd 
dreamed it, when -

*THUMP* - *bump*

The softer bumping continued for a moment, a rhythmic knocking that
continued for several seconds and then seemed to stop.  Mulder 
cocked his head closer to the wall, listening, waiting for it to 
resume and wondering whether it had something to do with the house's 
plumbing or ventilation system, or perhaps -

Another heavy *thump* rattled the wall, followed by a long, low-
pitched moan and a soft, rolling chuckle.  A woman's voice murmured 
something on the other side of the wall, and was answered by a much 
lower register.  Mulder smiled.  It seemed he was not the only 
person who thought they had the house to themselves.

The female voice sounded again - speaking, then yelping mid-
sentence.

"You know you love it," the man's voice cooed at her in the next 
room.  Mulder held his breath.  It was Charlie -

"*Oh, yeeeaaaaahhhh...*"

- and Joy.  They were in the next room, right on the other side of 
the wall.

The resumption of the rhythmic knocking left little to Mulder's 
imagination.  Finished with what he'd been doing, he found himself 
torn between staying and listening, and leaving them to their 
privacy.  The sounds on the other side of the wall were growing more 
animated -

"Oh, yes...oh *yeaahh* -"

"Uhhnn - ooh-yeah-baby..."

Mulder bit his lip.  Amusing as it was, he couldn't sit 
eavesdropping while they got it on next door.  He got up to leave, 
meaning to dress and be out on the diaper-run before they were any 
the wiser, but damn - should he flush?  If he flushed, they'd know 
he'd been there listening -

The knocking had become even louder pounding, *thump-thump-thump-
thump* against the creaking wall, rattling the porcelain lid on the 
back of the toilet -

Suddenly there was a loud crash and everything came to a shattering 
halt.

"Ah, shiiiiiiiit!" 

Somberly, almost in awe, Joy replied, "You broke it."

"Fuck!" Charlie exclaimed.  "We gotta fix this before mom gets 
back."

Low, bubbling female laughter rose up.  "You ripped it right out of 
the wall!"

Mulder heard a low grumble, then Charlie joined in the laughter.  
"Was it good for you too, baby?"

With a grin mirroring the laughter on the other side of the wall, 
Mulder decided to crack the window and leave the flushing for later.  
After closing the toilet lid and burning a few matches, he made a 
mental note to come back and flush when he got back.  Then, 
scratching his head and with a wide yawn, he stumbled off to get 
dressed.

~

There was a brand new orange basketball sitting in the middle of the 
coffee table when they walked in the front door, but no one was in 
the living room.  Maggie, Bill, Tara and Matthew headed for their 
respective rooms, with Matthew hopping on both feet and chattering 
about going out to dig for crabs like his daddy had promised him.  
Charlie and Joy were standing in the kitchen, pouring liberal cups 
of coffee - just getting a start on their day.  They were dressed in 
scanty beach attire, Joy's belly button ring clearly visible in her 
bikini top and cut-off jeans shorts.

"Good morning," Scully greeted them, setting Wim's carrier down on 
top of the kitchen island.  "Where's Mulder?"

Joy merely raised her eyebrows over the top of her coffee mug as she 
took a sip, and Charlie swallowed, placing his mug down on top of 
the counter.  There was a slight smile on his lips, as if he were in 
on a secret.

"Dunno," he replied, scratching his chest.  "We didn't know anyone 
else was home.  Did you try the beach?"

She let out a soft huff.  "No.  But that seems the most likely place 
to start."

Of course, she couldn't just 'go down to the beach'.  She would need 
to change Wim's clothes, change her own clothes, and slather both of 
them with sunblock.  With a sigh of resignation, she picked up the 
carrier and hauled it up the stairs.

~

Scully had changed the baby out of his church outfit and put on her 
own beach clothes when there was a tap on the bedroom door.  Mulder 
stepped inside, wearing shorts and a tee-shirt, his hair looking 
like it had been combed by the wind.

"How was church?" he asked, picking Wim up out of his crib and 
kissing his forehead.

She looked up from where she was sitting on the edge of the bed 
applying sunscreen to her legs, and sighed heavily.  "What would you 
say if I told I you I wanted to go home right now?"

He sat down next to her, propping Wim up on his lap.  "I'd say your 
truce with Bill was short lived."  He looked at her with concern.  
"What happened?"

"It's not just Bill."  She bent over to reach her ankles, rubbing 
the lotion in with a little more force than necessary.  "It's Mom, 
Tara...I received the usual Scully family twenty questions on the 
way to church today.  They want to know when we're going to have the 
christening.  I imagine Tara was already figuring she and Bill would 
be the godparents..."

"What did you tell them?" Mulder asked, surprised that she was 
bringing the subject up so easily; since Wim had been born, this had 
been taboo subject number four or five - he'd lost count.

She squeezed another generous dollop of lotion into her palm and 
bent to attack her other leg.  "I told them I wasn't sure there 
would be a christening." 

Mulder pursed his lips and blew a silent whistle.  He could just 
imagine how well *that* had gone over.  And of course, he would get 
the blame for it, which, he thought, was fairly ridiculous, 
considering he hadn't had any input into the subject at all.  He 
took a deep breath and focused on the baby in his lap. "Do you want 
Wim to be raised in the same faith and tradition you were raised 
with?" he asked.

"It's not that simple, Mulder," she replied shortly, her statement 
punctuated by the sound of the lotion cap clicking closed.  She sat 
up and gave him a pointed, frustrated look, rubbing the residual 
sunscreen onto her forearms.  "You know that."

Of course he knew it wasn't simple.  If there was a word to describe 
this relationship, this family, *simple* wasn't it.  He knew 
Scully's faith was important to her, that it was a large part of the 
strength that kept her centered when the rest of the world made no 
sense.  It was only natural to assume that she would want to share 
that with her son. Mulder had no qualms with that. The truth was, it 
wasn't of much consequence to him one way or the other if Wim was 
raised Catholic or Muslim or Orthodox Jew.  But he didn't know how 
to voice that without out sounding like he didn't care - as though 
he didn't share an interest in Wim's spiritual upbringing.  On the 
contrary, he hoped to be very involved. He wanted Wim to be exposed 
to a variety of religious and spiritual influences.

"You knew it was bound to come up sooner or later," he reminded her.  
He knew this was a sensitive subject for Scully - one they had 
rarely seen eye-to-eye on, and one that was obviously upsetting her 
now - but he was glad that the issue had been broached.

She sighed and brushed her hair away from her face, her eyes 
scanning the room restlessly.  "I suppose so," she said.  After a 
moment, she turned to look at him straight on, her eyes dark and 
vulnerable. "What do you want?"

It was a loaded question, and he knew it was difficult for her to 
ask, but it wasn't any easier for him to answer.  They needed to 
talk about this, but he didn't know how to have this conversation 
without diving into some of the deeper issues - perhaps all of them.  
He was more than a little uncertain about what she wanted from him 
when it came to Wim, and how much of her own life she was willing to 
let him invade.  They had been spending every day and night 
together, had been playing the roles of mommy and daddy just fine 
while Scully got used to having the baby in her apartment, the 
feedings and the diapers, the sleepless nights and thousand new 
responsibilities.  But how long it would continue was one of the 
biggest questions on the table.  This was the first time she'd asked 
him what *he* wanted, and he already knew that would take as little 
or as much as she was willing to allow, but now didn't exactly seem 
like the time to mention that he felt like he'd been flying blind, 
especially considering her current mood.

So he evaded the question.

"I want you to feel good about your decision, whatever it is," he 
said without inflection.

She stood up and moved over to Wim's changing table to stuff the 
sunscreen and a few other things into his diaper bag.  He heard her 
exhale long and slow, and she didn't look at him when she replied 
carefully, "That's all you have to say?"

He shrugged, reminding himself to isolate the issue and deal with 
one thing at a time.  "It's just a baptism, Scully."  She stopped 
what she was doing and rested her palms on the changing table, 
saying nothing.  He sighed.  "If it makes your family happy," he 
went on, "if you believe that it will protect him against the sins 
of the world and ensure that his eternal soul gets into heaven, then 
what harm is it gonna do?  Sprinkling a little water on his head is 
a lot less traumatic than a circumcision, and you didn't think twice 
about that."

She closed her eyes, dropping her chin to her chest with a resigned 
sigh.  "You're right."  Turning to face him, her head still bowed, 
she drew a deep breath, speaking again with more conviction.  
"You're right.  I don't know what I was so worried about."  

Then she looked at him, the troubled look still lingering in her 
eyes.  He wanted to say 'me', but he wasn't sure if that were true, 
or if he was merely projecting his own concerns into the situation.  
He watched her silently.

She dropped her eyes and turned back to finish packing up the diaper 
bag.

"Scully -" he started, thinking maybe they should take the 
discussion further, and pausing to figure out what approach he 
should take. 

She didn't turn back around.  "What?" she said, nearly inaudibly.

He hesitated.  She was tired, and she'd already had enough pressure 
from her family this morning - she didn't need any more from him.  
Once they opened this topic wide, he knew there would be no putting 
the lid back on it, and they were likely to end up with a lot more 
than either of them was ready to handle right now.

When he didn't respond she looked over her shoulder at him, and the 
decision was made; this discussion would happen some other time.  
Forcing a casual smile, he said, "You ready to hit the beach?"

~

Joy and Charlie were already down on the beach by the time they got 
there, set up a few feet behind the wavering line of matted beach-
grass, shell bits, and seaweed that marked the furthest reach of the 
last high-tide.  Joy was standing in the center of a big Mexican 
blanket, rubbing tanning oil onto her arms.  Charlie was a few steps 
away, rocking Maggie's beach umbrella into the sand.  He looked up 
and grinned as he saw them approach.

"Hey -" he called, throwing his chin up at Mulder. "Do you surf?"

Mulder paused for a second, seeing the look Scully gave him over her 
shoulder.  He scrunched his face, squinting into the sun.  "No," he 
admitted.  "Not really."

"Not at all," Scully corrected.

"And how would you know?" Mulder asked.  Scully simply tipped an 
eyebrow at him.

"Neither does he," said Joy, tilting her head at Charlie.  Scully 
chuckled.

"I know my way around a board, thank you very much," Charlie said, 
kicking sand around the base of the umbrella.  He raised the green 
and white striped top and clicked it into place.  "I've surfed."

Joy and Scully exchanged another wordless look that spoke volumes.

Charlie came to stand next to Mulder, crossing his arms over his 
chest and surveying the ocean with the look of a connoisseur.  "See 
that?" he asked, his eyebrows raised appreciatively.  The water 
stretched, sparkling and blue, out to the horizon, churning slowly, 
higher than it had been the day before.  The waves started about a 
hundred yards from the shoreline, swelling gradually as they neared 
the beach, forming perfect turquoise curls before they broke in a 
thunder of foam.

"Those've got to be six feet - maybe eight," Charlie went on.  "That 
storm they're talking about must really be kicking things up out 
there."

Mulder nodded.  He had listened to the weather updates on the radio 
when he had gone out on a diaper run earlier.  Felix was still only 
a tropical storm, but was moving quickly, gathering steam as it 
cruised toward the Bahamas, following the same path that Hurricane 
Fran had crashed across just five years before.  The cashier at the 
Food Lion had not seemed much perturbed by the possibility of 
getting slammed again so soon. 

"We had a wall of water fourteen feet high wash clear across here 
back with Fran," she had told him as she rang up a package of 
Pampers, two bags of sunflower seeds, and the basketball Mulder had 
grabbed on impulse in the seasonal-items aisle.  "We get storms 
every year," she said, obviously unimpressed with Mother Nature's 
fiercest efforts.  "We're used to it."

Which had caused Mulder to reflect that clearly, here was a woman 
who had never been stuck in an apartment building flooded with man-
eating parasites.  Common sense prevented him from making that 
particular observation out loud, however, and he had paid for his 
bag of necessities without further comment.  

Charlie was still gazing out over the water with a look of 
determination.  "I was thinking we could go and rent a couple of 
boards somewhere," he said, "take advantage of these waves...what do 
you say?"

"Sure," Mulder said, liking the idea.  "I passed a couple of places 
with boards and stuff this morning -"

"Oh no," Joy said.  She snapped the cap of her sun oil closed and 
tossed the bottle onto the corner of the blanket.  "I'm not sitting 
here all day while you pound yourself into the sand."

The look in Scully's eyes indicated her agreement as she handed Wim 
to Mulder.  "You're not eighteen anymore," she reminded him, then 
raised her eyebrow at him again as she set their chairs up between 
the umbrella and the blanket.  "Keep that in mind, Moon-Doggie."

"Do you hear that?" Mulder asked Wim, lifting him up at eye level 
and waggling his body side to side.  "Do you hear what your mom is 
telling me?"

Wim grinned and hiccoughed as Scully approached to slip a denim Baby 
Gap sunhat onto his head.  He blinked with confusion.  

"I want to keep him covered up out here," Scully said, tying the hat 
under Wim's chin.  She squinted up at Mulder.  "You should have 
something on too."

"Nah," Mulder said, smiling at his boy. "I never burn."

"Famous last words," Charlie chuckled, rubbing a palm's worth of 
lotion onto the back of his neck.  "Hey Dane - remember that time at 
the Kingsbury's?  When you and Kelly Casey put on baby-oil and laid 
out for like, six hours -?"

"Don't remind me," Scully groaned.  She was bent over, digging in 
the huge bag she had brought down with them.  She straightened up to 
hand Mulder his sunglasses.  "Here are these at least -"

"You don't tan, do you," said Joy, who was already well on her way 
to gorgeous tropical color.  She had shimmied out of her shorts, 
revealing the rest of her string bikini, and was arranging herself 
on the blanket for optimum sun-exposure.  Scully had gone back to 
rifling through her bag.  She glanced up at Joy with a rueful grin.

"No," she said, standing up with a tube of zinc oxide. She squeezed 
a dollop onto her finger and smeared it along the bridge of her 
nose. "I do not tan.."

Charlie laughed.  "Leave her in the sun too long and you can't tell 
where Dane's hair stops and her skin starts."

"Ouch," Mulder said.  He reached out to touch the greasy white 
stripe on Scully's nose.

A small form came barreling toward them from the dunes, kicking sand 
up behind him with each step.  Matthew arrived at their spot on the 
beach breathless, with an expression of serious intent on his face.  
He dropped to his knees, heaving exaggerated breaths, winded from 
his run.

"Hi, Matthew," Scully said.  "Are your parents coming down?"

"What's that?" Matthew asked, pointing at the zinc oxide on Scully's 
face.

"Want some?"  Scully asked him, squeezing out a small drop and 
smearing it on his nose.
  
Matthew's eyes crossed as he tried to see where Scully had put the 
white cream on his nose. "I can't see!"

"Here," Joy said to him, sitting up and pulling a small compact out 
of her beach bag.  She flipped it open so he could peer in the 
mirror.  Matthew strained his neck until his face came into view.

"I no like it," he said, wiping the back of his hand across his nose 
and smearing the zinc all over his face.

"You're going to have to learn to like it," Tara called to him as 
she and Bill approached, trudging awkwardly over the sand under a 
burden of bags, folded beach-chairs, and brightly colored towels.  
Between them they carried an enormous cooler.

"Mommy! I wanna dig for crabs!" Matthew exclaimed.

Charlie grinned at Tara and Bill, his hands on his hips.  "Did you 
leave *anything* in the house?" he quipped.

"There's a few more things," Bill replied, not catching Charlie's 
sarcasm.  Tara had caught it, and rolled her eyes at her brother-in-
law.  They set the cooler down on the other side of the umbrella, 
and Bill set his half of stuff on the sand, surveying their spot 
critically.  "We're gonna get wet the next time the tide comes in, 
you know," he said to none of them specifically.

"I think it's okay," Charlie said. 

"You've got us right at the waterline, Charles -"

Charlie blinked at his brother. "We're *fine*." 

Mulder caught the slight edge in Charlie's tone - it was the first 
time he had heard anything other than easy affability in the younger 
man's voice - and for a moment he had a remarkable sensation of 
deja-vu.  He knew that tone.  He glanced at Scully, but she seemed 
not to have noticed.  

Bill had thrown up his hands and was shaking his head, obviously 
assured that the tide would prove his point and Charlie wrong at the 
same time.  He squinted up the beach at Maggie, who was approaching.  
"I'm going back up for the rest of the stuff," he said, but didn't 
move right away.

Maggie appeared, smiling broadly at them from behind a pair of large 
round sunglasses.  "Hello everyone," she called, letting her bag 
fall to the sand near the base of the umbrella.  "Well now who set 
up my umbrella for me?  Wasn't that nice..."

"That was Charlie," Scully said, sinking onto her own chair.

"Aren't you sweet," Maggie said, reaching out to give her younger 
son's cheek a pat.  "Thank you, honey."

Charlie grinned and waggled his eyebrows, moving quickly to set up 
her chair for her.

"I'm going back up for the rest of our stuff," Bill said again, but 
no one seemed to hear.  Charlie was making an elaborate show of 
arranging his mother's chair at exactly the perfect angle beneath 
the umbrella, and setting her bag at just the right distance next to 
it.  He presented the seat to her with a flourish.

"Your *chair*, Mrs. Onassis -"

Maggie clucked her tongue while the others laughed, tipping her 
glasses down far enough to give her younger son a look.

"Oh, you tease," she said with mock indignation.  "But these happen 
to be the *height* of fashion -"

This garnered another round of laughter.  Matthew looked among the 
adults in confusion.  "Mommy -"

"Matty, what happened to your bag of beach toys?" Maggie asked, 
settling into her chair.

"Daddy's getting it," Matthew answered.

"I'm getting it," Bill reiterated.  "Is there anything you need 
while I'm up there, Mom?" he asked.  He glanced at everyone else. 
"Anyone?"

No one took him up on his offer, and he turned his back on them, 
finally trudging back up the beach toward the house.  Matthew 
plopped back down on the sand.  "I wanna dig for crabs," he 
announced loudly, taking up two fistfuls of sand and releasing it 
into the air.

"Baby - don't throw," Tara said, grabbing one of his hands and 
emptying it before he could fling again.  She stooped to unfold 
their chairs, and dropped their towels and bags on top of one of 
them.  "We couldn't carry everything at once," she told them.  "Bill 
organized it into two trips so I could set up the chairs down here 
while he went up for the rest," she went on, clearly amused by her 
husband's efficient planning.  Squinting back up the beach, she 
watched as Bill disappeared back over the dune with an indulgent 
smile.

"That's our Bill," Charlie said, the good humor back in his voice.  
"Always the Eagle Scout.  Such a good sailor."

"Not for much longer," Tara replied, positioning her chair in the 
shade next to her mother-in-law and dropping into it with a sigh.

"What do you mean?" Scully asked, sitting forward.

"Mommy," Matthew vied for Tara's attention.  "Mommy!" 

"Yes, Matthew, we'll dig for crabs," Tara said automatically, then 
glanced over at Scully.  "Billy's considering taking early 
retirement."

Scully looked from Tara to her mother as she sank back on her chair, 
unbelieving.  The Navy was her older brother's life; from the time 
Scully could remember, it was all Bill had wanted: to follow their 
father's shining example.  He had done Junior NROTC in high school, 
had graduated second in his class at Annapolis and risen quickly 
through the ranks, highly respected and well recommended.  Twenty 
years later, he had Commander's stripes on his dress whites, and a 
chest-full of decorations that would have made Ahab proud.  Scully 
felt a sinking around her heart; leaving the Navy would be as 
traumatic for her brother as leaving the Bureau was for Mulder.

"What happened?" she asked.

Tara looked at Maggie, then back at Scully.  "Well, he's been 
thinking about it for awhile - he says the Navy's not the same place 
it used to be - but he was passed up for promotion recently, and 
that was the clincher.  He's topped out and there's not much reason 
for him to stay."

Scully looked back at her mother.  From Maggie's expression it was 
clear she had heard all of this already.

Charlie let out a low whistle and stretched out next to Joy on the 
boldly striped blanket.  "So what is he going to do?"

"He hasn't decided," Tara said, her shoulders peaking with a little 
shrug.  Then an anxious expression crossed her face, and she glanced 
at each of them. "It's a touchy subject," she warned them.  "I 
wouldn't bring it up unless he does."

Mulder handed Wim to Scully and sat down in the chair next to her.  
"Interesting policy," he muttered under his breath.  Scully turned 
and raised a knowing eyebrow at him.  Joy chuffed to his left, and 
he looked over to see her smiling and shaking her head. 

"Would you stay in San Diego?" Scully asked.  Tara had caught and 
pinned Matthew between her legs and was rubbing sunscreen between 
his bird-like shoulder blades.  She frowned.

"Well..." she said, raising her eyebrows and tipping her head side 
to side.  She ran her slick hands down Matthew's arms one last time 
and gave his rear end a gentle swat.  "Go on, you're done," she 
said.  Matthew gave her a look over his shoulder, holding his newly 
slathered arms out from his sides.

"I go to the water," he said.

"Only up to your toes until Dad gets back," Tara told him.  "Or the 
crabs'll getcha!"

Her hands dashed out to tickle his ribs and he ran away, squealing 
merrily.  Tara watched him as ran to the water, stopping just at the 
waterline and looking back for her approval.  She gave him a thumbs-
up, calling: "Ok, baby! That's far enough for now -!"  Then she 
turned back to Scully, her face losing its carefree expression.  "We 
really like it in California," she said, returning to the prior 
question.  "But both our families are back here - and I know my 
mother would like to see Matty more often -"

"Of course she would," Maggie said, closing her book over her thumb 
and twisting slightly in her chair.  Tara took a deep breath and 
continued.

"And my sister Patti just had a baby this summer too."  She cast a 
fond glance at Wim, and sighed.  "I'm really hoping Billy will 
consider moving back to Virginia.  Or maybe up to Pennsylvania, by 
my family -"

She left off as she caught sight of Bill coming back over the dunes, 
and she slumped back into her chair.  "It's just not an easy thing 
to talk about right now."

Mulder looked at Scully, who held his glance for several beats while 
Wim squirmed in her lap.  In a way, it was good to know that this 
kind of lack of communication was not something peculiar to their 
relationship.  But hearing this about Bill and Tara did somewhat 
underscore the number of things that Mulder and Scully had avoided 
for months now because they weren't 'easy' to talk about. 

Scully looked away, getting up to lay Wim in the shade.  Some 
minutes and one long silence later, Bill arrived back, dropping a 
large mesh sack full of bright plastic pails and shovels on the sand 
next to Tara's chair.

"Are you watching him down there?" he asked her, squinting down the 
beach at Matthew, who was squatting near the waterline, examining 
something on the sand.  Tara shaded her eyes to look up at her 
husband.

"I've got my eye on him," she said.  "He wants you to go dig for 
sand-crabs with him."

Bill nodded, and pulled his shirt off over his head.  He glanced 
around the group of them - Charlie and Joy sunning on their blanket, 
Maggie reading quietly under the umbrella, Scully arranging Wim on 
his blanket.  His eyes stopped the longest on Mulder, who was 
leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.  Mulder looked up and 
returned Bill's stare without expression.  Bill looked away first.

"You all sure are quiet," he observed.  He tossed his folded shirt 
onto one of Tara's bags, and stood with his hands on his hips.  
Charlie pushed himself up on his elbows and squinted up at his older 
brother.

"We were talking about you, Billy-boy," he grinned.  

Bill gave a half-amused, half-impatient snort and bent to reach into 
the bag of toys.  "Oh, good things, I'm *sure*," he said with a 
smirk, causing Charlie to chuckle.  Bill pulled a bright orange pail 
out of the mesh sack and started to walk down toward the water.  
Charlie pushed himself up on his elbows.

"If you catch a bunch -" he called after his brother, "we can have 
sand-crab cocktail with dinner!"

There was a volley of disgusted exclamations from the rest of the 
party, and halfway to the water's edge, Bill turned and walked 
backwards a few steps, grinning back at them before he turned with a 
wave of the orange pail.  Charlie continued to chuckle softly as he 
lay back on the blanket. 

"That's really gross," Joy murmured drowsily without looking up.  
Mulder was just close enough to hear Charlie's whispered reply:

"*You love it*."

Mulder smiled to himself, looking up as Scully came to sit down 
again.  She gave him a look of mild surprise when he reached between 
them to take her hand.  Beside them, Charlie was still murmuring to 
Joy.

"You know," Charlie said, his voice low and obviously meant only for 
Joy, "I hear that the best time to dig for sand-crabs is at night."

Joy laughed softly, deep in her throat.  "Is that right..."

"Mmm-hmm," Charlie said. He lowered his voice further. "And I was 
thinking," he said, "that maybe you and I could come out and, you 
know - 'dig for sand-crabs' one of these nights..."

"You did, did you," Joy murmured with interest.

"Yeaahhh," Charlie drawled. "I know how you love a good sand-crab 
cocktail..."

Joy let out a throaty chuckle.  Mulder turned to see if Scully had 
caught any of this exchange, but her attention was on Wim.  He 
glanced at Charlie and Joy on their blanket - Charlie was rolled 
toward Joy and had covered her stomach with one large hand.  Joy was 
squinting up at him with one eye, smiling.

"I *know* you're not trying to ruin my tan," she warned.  Charlie 
grinned down at her, his head propped on his other hand.

"And what if I did?" he asked.

Joy closed her eyes again.  "I'd tell your mother," she said, her 
voice sleepy.  Charlie laughed, ducking in to kiss her mouth before 
he settled back onto the blanket.  He caught Mulder's eye as he 
rolled over, and winked.

"Ah-yup," Charlie mused quietly, closing his eyes and lacing his 
hands over his chest. His voice was just loud enough for Mulder to 
hear. "Everyone loves a good sand-crab cocktail."

~

The day on the beach produced a tranquil, almost somnolent 
camaraderie among the various inhabitants of the beach-house called 
'Perfect Harmony,' which felt like a house under the spell of it's 
own name as Scully came slowly down the stairs after her shower.  
She felt warm and drowsy, ready to join her family for a pleasant 
meal.  The morning's tension seemed very far away as she wandered 
through the quiet to the kitchen area, which took up the entire 
northwest corner of the great-room on the main floor.  Her mother 
and Tara had taken a pause in their dinner preparations and were 
leaning against the counters, chatting, wineglasses in hand.  A 
large bottle of white wine sat perspiring on the counter behind 
them.  Maggie tilted her head to the side with a slow smile as 
Scully approached.

"Hi, honey," she said.  Scully took a deep breath of beach-scented 
air and returned her mother's smile.  "You got some color today."

"Hi - yes, I did," she said.  She glanced into the great-room, where 
Matthew was kneeling by the coffee table with a coloring book and a 
huge box of crayons.  "Where's everyone else?"

"Well, Billy's outside getting the grill ready," Tara said, heaving 
herself away from the counter and opening one of the cupboards to 
pull down another glass.  "And Joy and Charlie went to the store for 
something -"

"Saline solution," Maggie said around a sip of wine.

"That's right," said Tara, holding the new glass out to Scully.  
Scully held it under the bottle as Tara poured.

"Thanks," she said, forcing a smile and trying to tamp her rising 
alarm over the fact that Wim had not been accounted for.  Tara 
picked her own glass up and clinked it against Scully's.

"It's really good," she said.  "I was just telling your Mom."

Scully nodded, unable to keep from taking another anxious glance 
around the room.  She was aware that Tara and her mother were 
watching her with amusement.

"Your man's on the porch," Tara said, taking a sip from her glass 
with a playful smile.  "Reading, I think."

"My *m-*?" Scully half-repeated on a breathy laugh before she caught 
herself and shut her mouth.  Her man.  Mulder as *her man*.  She 
took a taste from her glass, feeling a blush bloom in her sun-pinked 
cheeks.

"He's got the baby with him," Maggie told her.

Scully cleared her throat and gave the other women a quick, tight-
lipped smile, hoping they her momentary loss of composure hadn't 
been too noticeable.  "I guess I'll go find him," she said.

She padded softly through the room, past the couches, pausing just 
long enough to hear Tara and Maggie's gentle laughter and Maggie's 
soft comment, "Old habits die hard."

She rolled her eyes - so they'd noticed - and passed through to the 
screened-in porch.  Mulder was there with Wim, not reading, but 
sleeping.  Both of them were dead to the world, Mulder slumped low 
in one of the Adirondack chairs, his feet crossed on top of a nearby 
end-table, diaper-clad Wim sprawled and drooling on his father's 
bare chest.  Scully felt her insides tighten and twist with an 
affection she thought might melt her where she stood.

Her man.  Her men.

She stepped closer and gently took the paperback that dangled from 
Mulder's left hand, reaching up to slip the glasses away from his 
face.  She was folding them gently against her stomach and trying to 
decide whether she should risk waking Wim by picking him up, when 
she felt a warm hand slip along the back of her leg and curl behind 
her knee.

"I'm not sleeping," Mulder whispered without opening his eyes.  
Scully smiled.

"No?"

"Uh-uh," he murmured.  He took a long breath, lifting Wim slightly 
as he filled his lungs.  "Just checking my eyelids for holes..."

Scully nodded - though he couldn't see it - and her eyes wandered 
along his relaxed figure, admiring him.  "Do you want a glass of 
wine?" she asked quietly.  Mulder shook his head.

"I've got a beer..." His hand left the back of her leg to grope near 
the base of his chair.  "Somewhere -"  

She toed the bottle over to his hand and he gripped it. "There it 
is," he murmured.  He smiled up at her, his eyes still closed, and 
his hand, now cold with condensation from the beer bottle, crept 
back around her knee. "I was having the most incredible dream -"

"I thought you weren't sleeping."

"I was half-sleeping...but I was dreaming," he said, sounding less 
than half-awake now. "You were there..."  

He said nothing more for a little while.  Scully thought he had 
fallen back asleep, and had begun to reconsider taking Wim inside 
for his bottle, when the sound of feet on the outside steps barely 
preceded the loud crash of the front door as it flung wide and 
bounced off the inside wall.  Charlie's voice followed quickly.

"Ooh - sorry -!"

Mulder opened his eyes as Wim startled awake and jerked rigidly 
against his chest.  The baby's face looked momentarily surprised 
before it contorted and went red, and Wim let out with a long, ear-
splitting cry.  Again, Charlie's voice followed quickly, closer this 
time.

"Oh, I'm *really* sorry -" Charlie appeared in the doorway to the 
porch, cradling an enormous watermelon.  "Did that scare him?"

Scully picked the baby up and soothed him on her shoulder as Mulder 
sat up, grinding the heels of his hands into his eye sockets.  She 
gave her brother a rueful smile. "Yeah," she said, moving through 
the doorway and past him.  "It's okay."

Wim was still crying as Charlie followed her back into the living 
room and toward the kitchen area.  "I'm sorry - I lost hold of the 
door and it swung in really fast -"

Joy had joined Maggie and Tara behind the counter, and was unpacking 
two brown-paper grocery bags, with a third folded closed at her 
feet.  She grimaced in sympathy as Wim continued to wail.  "Awww, 
I'm sorry, Dana - was he sleeping?"

"It's time for him to eat anyway," Scully said, pulling the 
refrigerator open to grab one of Wim's bottles.  Bill and Mulder 
wandered in at the same time from opposite directions, each of them 
stopping just outside the kitchen area.  Mulder had pulled his tee-
shirt back on, and  Bill was holding a large pair of barbeque tongs 
in one hand, clicking them absently.

"Scaring babies again, Charles?" he asked with a broad grin.

"Ha ha ha," Charlie said.  He set the watermelon on the counter, 
keeping his hand on it to prevent it from rolling.  The room was 
quiet except for the sound of Wim's remarkably consistent and 
undeniably angry crying as Scully went about warming the bottle on 
the stove.  Charlie winced.  "Jeez - is he okay?  Did I hurt his 
ears or something -?"

"He's okay," Scully said, patting Wim's diapered behind.  Mulder 
stepped forward to take him, to free Scully's hands, and she 
relinquished the baby gratefully.  Wim screeched as he was pulled 
away from his mother, but fell silent the instant Mulder pressed him 
to his chest. 

Scully caught Mulder's eye and smiled.  The rest of the kitchen 
looked on, amazed.

"*That*," Joy said, "is *incredible*."

Mulder chuckled softly as he shuffled to the island and perched on 
one of the stools.  Wim hiccoughed, and stared goggle-eyed over his 
father's shoulder as everyone smiled indulgently at him.  

From the doorway, they could hear Bill clicking his tongs.  "Grill's 
ready," he said.  "Everyone know how they want their burgers?  Mom?"

"Medium, honey," Maggie answered, tearing her eyes away from the 
baby.  Tara looked up, then went back to work on the tomato she was 
slicing.

"Me too.  And put a hotdog on for Matty...?"

Mulder and Scully joined in on the order of medium burgers, and Bill 
looked toward Charlie and Joy. "What about you guys?" he asked.  
"How do you like 'em?"

"We don't eat meat," Joy told him, re-folding one of the empty paper 
bags.  Bill raised his eyebrows, glancing at Charlie.

"Well, then what're you gonna eat?" Bill asked. "I mean, there's 
only so much potato salad -"

"We bought some tempeh," Joy said, showing Bill a vacuum-sealed 
block of something that resembled white cheese.  "You can throw this 
on the grill toward the end.  Just leave a clean space in one of the 
corners for us - I'm going to make a marinade for it -"

"But what the hell is it?" Bill asked.

"Billy -"

"What the hell is it -!" Matthew mimicked from the living room.

Tara scowled at Bill, but Joy smiled good-naturedly. "It's bean 
curd," she said.  "Like tofu.  I'll slice it up and bring it out to 
you."

Bill eyed the package of tempeh suspiciously, then turned his gaze 
on his brother, who was leaning against the counter with his head 
bowed, trying not to laugh.  "*Bean* curd, Charles?" Bill asked.

"I want bean cuhd, too!" Matty announced.

Charlie looked up and lost it, his laughter quickly followed by 
everyone else's.  Everyone except Bill, who was shaking his head 
incredulously at the rest of them, and Mulder, who had gotten up 
from his stool and walked with Wim to the other side of the great-
room.

"You're *not* having bean curd," Bill told his son sternly.

Mulder looked back and caught Scully's eye as she grinned.

"I'll be in here," he mouthed to her with a wink and nod toward the 
porch.  Scully nodded, her eyes still twinkling.  

When he turned, Mulder found himself looking into a pair of dark, 
almond-shaped eyes.  Joy met his gaze for a moment before she looked 
back down at the small pile of groceries in front of her, just long 
enough for Mulder to notice that, though her eyes were friendly, Joy 
had not been laughing, either.

~

Maggie set a container of potato salad on the table and sank 
gratefully into the seat Bill had saved for her at the head of the 
table.  She smiled.  There were few things that could make her feel 
the way she felt with her family gathered around her - a rare 
circumstance that, in the last several years, she had learned not to 
take for granted.  Tears pricked the backs of her eyes as they 
roamed the table among the faces of her children and the people they 
loved.  It had been years since they'd all been together.  

And of course, the family would never be completely whole again, not 
in this life.  There was the inevitable and expected pang for those 
missing from this meal.  Maggie sighed to think of how her Bill 
would have enjoyed this week surrounded by his children, of the 
delight Melissa would have taken in her nephews.  She could imagine 
their joy, could feel their presence at the table.  They were 
familiar, beloved ghosts, and the ache of missing only sharpened her 
appreciation for those present.  How she loved them all.

Bill was seated to her right.  She moved to cover his hand with 
hers, causing her older son to look up with an expression of mild 
surprise.  Then he smiled, turning his hand to grasp hers.  He 
reached beside him with his other hand to pick up Matthew's small 
fist.

"Want to say the blessing, Mom?" he asked.  

The rest of the table paused in their conversations to look up.  
Charlie took the hint first, reaching for Joy's hand on his right, 
and his sister's on his left.  Maggie saw the smiling glance her two 
younger children shared as everyone clasped hands around the table, 
knowing they probably thought she was being sentimental.  Well let 
them think it, Maggie thought with another smile.  So what if she 
was.  If you couldn't be sentimental about your own family, what was 
the fun of being a mother?

Maggie took Joy's hand in her left, completing the circle around the 
table, and everyone bowed their heads while she intoned the prayer. 
"Bless us, oh Lord..."

Matthew chirped up as soon as the last "Amen" was said, exclaiming a 
bright, "I wike a beach!"

The table laughed gently as they dug into their plates, and Charlie 
leaned forward, grinning across the table at his nephew. "What was 
that, Matty?"

"I wike a beach!" Matthew repeated.

"He likes the beach," Tara translated, cutting Matthew's hotdog in 
half.  

"Yeah," Matthew agreed.  "Ketchup," he told his mother.

"Ketchup what, Matt?" Bill asked.

"Pweeease,"* Matthew drawled sweetly.  Bill ruffled his son's hair 
with a smile.

"We usually take turns saying something we're thankful for after we 
say grace," Bill explained, glancing from his wife to his mother.  
Maggie smiled, remembering the tradition from her own dinner table.

"That's really nice," Joy said.  She looked at Matthew.  "So you're 
thankful for the beach, Matty?"

Matthew nodded enthusiastically, his mouth full of hotdog bun.

"Well," Joy said, "I'm thankful for the beach too.  And that I 
finally get to meet all of you."

Maggie returned Joy's warm smile, seeing the affectionate hand that 
Joy ran along Charlie's back.  Charlie turned, and Maggie saw the 
look that passed between the two young people. 

Dana sat on Charlie's other side, preoccupied, turning to check on 
the baby every few moments.  Wim was sleeping soundly in his carrier 
on the counter just behind his mother, oblivious to her constant 
concern.  Fox, who sat at the foot of the table, put a hand on 
Dana's wrist.  "He's fine..." he whispered.  He eyes met Maggie's 
when he looked up and he gave her a brief, uncertain smile.

"Well," Maggie said, glancing around the table. "I know I'm just 
glad to have you all here.  It's been a long time since we all sat 
around a table like a family."

Everybody voiced their agreement, and Charlie initiated a brief 
clinking of wineglasses and beer-bottles.  Maggie allowed herself a 
contented sigh as everyone returned to their food and the table fell 
quiet again.  Perfection would have been having her husband and 
older daughter here with them, but she knew not to wish for the 
impossible.  Looking around once more at the faces of her children, 
she knew was blessed in the moment.

There was much to be thankful for.

~

The sky was orange and pink, scattered with darkly outlined clouds 
that alluded to the potential for rain, but created a more 
spectacular sunset with their presence.  Dinner had been consumed 
and cleared away, and the sated party moved onto the screened porch 
to watch darkness fall.  Maggie enlisted Charlie's help in bringing 
out citronella candles from the kitchen cupboard to keep the 
mosquitoes at bay.

Maggie, Tara and Bill challenged Mulder, Charlie and Joy to a game 
of Trivial Pursuit, and everyone did their best to coax Scully onto 
their team for help with the most difficult Science and Nature 
questions. Scully merely shook her head from the rocking bench where 
she sat with Matthew and Wim, lulling the boys into near-slumber 
with the soothing tone of her voice as she told them a very 
condensed, very tame version of Moby Dick.

By the time Captain Ahab and the white whale had met their watery 
ends, the two teams had collected an even number of pie slices, and 
Tara got up to take Matthew in to bed.  The little boy was barely 
able to hold his eyes open as he protested, "But I'm not sweepy!"  
The game was called at a draw when Scully declined both side's pleas 
to take Tara's place, and everyone relaxed back in their seats.

"I remember your father telling you that story just like that," 
Maggie said, leaving the table and taking Matthew's vacated seat on 
the bench next to Scully.  Wim was sleeping peacefully, a soft snore 
rising up with each breath.

"I must have it memorized word for word," Scully replied, tucking 
the blanket closer around her son's body.

Joy glanced at Charlie with one eyebrow raised.  "Your dad read you 
Moby Dick?" she asked, her voice low, but not so soft that they 
didn't all hear it.

Charlie was busy packing the game cards back into their boxes.  He 
looked up at Joy.  "Not me, just Starbuck over there."  Grinning, he 
raised his chin toward his sister.

Maggie gave Scully's knee a squeeze.  "It was their special thing," 
she said, smiling.  "I can still hear your father reading aloud to 
you.  You two never got tired of that same old story."

"It's a great story," Scully said, curling her hand over her 
mother's.

Bill got up, the wooden legs of his chair scraping loudly on the 
deck.  He ran a hand over the back of his head with a long sigh.  
"I'm turning in," he said, offering his former teammates and 
opponents a polite expression that didn't quite make it to a smile.

"Night dear," Maggie called after him.  Bill threw her a half-smile 
over his shoulder as he disappeared into the house.

There was silence among the group on the porch, marked by the sound 
of cicadas and the pounding surf.  After a few minutes, Scully stood 
up carefully, taking a deep breath and shifting Wim from one arm to 
the other.

"I think I'll go up too," she said, bending down so her mother could 
place a kiss on William's cheek.

Maggie gave him a soft nuzzle and smiled up at her daughter, 
reaching out and giving her arm a gentle squeeze.  "Goodnight, 
sweetheart."

Scully smiled and walked Wim over to the table so Mulder could say 
goodnight to his boy.

"'Night buddy," Mulder whispered, pulling the baby's hand to his 
lips.  Raising his eyes to Scully's, he asked, "You coming back 
down?"

She shook her head.  "I think I'll read a while."

Mulder gave her a disappointed look, and Charlie mock-whined, "Can 
Mulder stay out and play with us a little longer?"

Scully chucked.  "God, that's *still* annoying after all these 
years."

"Hey, it always worked, didn't it?"  Charlie grinned.  "Remember 
that kid we always played kickball with out on the Admiral's lawn -"

"Michael Hayes," Maggie supplied, stepping forward and placing a 
hand on his shoulder.  "Captain Hayes' son."

"You going in too, Mom?" Charlie asked, wrapping an arm around his 
mother's waist and giving her a gentle squeeze.

Maggie nodded, running a hand through the thick hair on the back of 
his head.  "I've just started a new novel and I'm anxious to get 
back to it."

Charlie stage-whispered to Joy, "Mom has just discovered Harry 
Potter."

A blushed crept over Maggie's cheeks, and Charlie gave her another 
squeeze before letting go.  "Michael Hayes," he grinned at his 
sister, who grinned broadly back, both of them obviously remembering 
their former playmate.  "'I'm telling my dad!'" Charlie whined, 
pushing his glasses up his nose.

Scully giggled and Maggie shook her head at them fondly, then 
glanced at Joy, Mulder, and back to Charlie.  "Well," she said, 
"don't stay out too late."

"Tell Harry the muggles say hello," Charlie said.

The kids laughed affectionately at Maggie's flustered "Oh Charles," 
as she waved goodnight and stepped inside.

Joy followed her into the house, and Scully looked over at Mulder 
with a warm expression that said 'come up when you're ready.'

"I'll be up in a while," he replied with a warm smile.  She nodded, 
carrying Wim into the house.

Mulder and Charlie were reclining in their seats, enjoying the night 
sounds of the beach, when Joy returned a few minutes later with a 
fresh round of beers.

She sat down at the table, her eyes fixed on Charlie. "So what's the 
deal with your brother and your sister?" she asked.  

Mulder's eyes widened with surprise at her direct question, a slight 
smirk curving his lips.  His own personal experience and powers of 
observation had given him a few notions about the state of affairs 
as they existed between Scully and her older brother - there was no 
ignoring the tension that had been hanging like a fog between the 
two siblings during the last day-and-a-half, and, Mulder knew, much 
longer than that.  Of course he was curious to know the origins of 
this rift between brother and sister - suspecting, of course, that 
it was none other than himself - but curious or not, he doubted he 
would ever have brought the question up.  He sat forward in 
anticipation, glad that Joy had the balls to ask about the situation 
outright, and interested to hear what Charlie's take on it might be.  

Charlie smiled and twisted the cap off his beer.  He looked up at 
Mulder with a grin like a challenge, as if he'd read his thoughts.  
"What *is* with my sister and brother?" he asked.

"Don't look at me," Mulder said, shaking his head.  "I've only seen 
the Reader's Digest condensed version of that book."

Charlie snorted, taking a sip of beer.  "Don't sweat it, man," he 
said. "Dana is notoriously closed-mouthed.  She probably tells you 
more than she tells anybody.  She hardly talks to Bill at all..."

Joy narrowed her eyes at him shrewdly.  "Nuh-uh," she said slowly.  
"No, there's more to it than that.  It's not just a lack of 
communication - there's something else there.  And it comes from 
both sides.  Definitely a two-way vibe there."

Mulder smirked again at Joy's sharp aim and took a swig of beer as 
Charlie put his own bottle down on the table and stretched out his 
arms dramatically, dragging out the moment.

"All right then...let me tell you how it is with the Scully family," 
Charlie drawled, "as you are but two innocent non-Scullys, and 
unfamiliar with the lay of the land.  Or the sea, as it were."

Mulder grinned, but he felt a small niggling of guilt for 
encouraging the topic.  If Scully had wanted him to know about this, 
she would have told him herself.  He leveled his gaze at Charlie.  
"Am I gonna get my ass kicked for this?" he asked, deadpan.

Joy chuckled, and Charlie grinned.  "That depends on what you plan 
to do with this information, my friend.  I suggest you keep it 
close, stay out of the way, and let nature run her course."

"Sage advice," Joy replied glibly.  "From a master, I'm sure."

"*Years* of practice," Charlie said, leaning back and clapping his 
hand smugly against her thigh.  "I, myself, am an expert in the 
'throw, duck, and cover' method."

"So let me guess," Joy said, sitting up in her seat, her thick dark 
hair falling forward over her shoulder.  She brushed it back 
impatiently and continued.  "Your father and Dana were close, and 
Bill has issues with that that he has never come to terms with."

Charlie made a 'not bad' face at Mulder, pointing his thumb at Joy.  
Mulder laughed, sipping from his bottle, while Joy leaned back in 
her seat, her eyes shining with self-satisfaction as she took a long 
drink from her beer.

"So how do you fit into all of it, sweetums?" she blinked at Charlie 
innocently.

Charlie laughed.  "Me?  I told you, I stay out of the way.  I'm the 
youngest, so nobody expected anything from me.  Bill was out there 
proving himself to everybody, Melissa was the sensitive one, Dana 
the smart one...by the time I came along, Mom and Dad were tired, so 
they pretty much left me alone."

Mulder and Joy laughed, the sound fading softly as the wind carried 
it away.  Mulder had the impression that despite his claims, Charlie 
wasn't one to stay out of the way, any more than he could truthfully 
claim to be exempt from the burden of familial responsibility.  
Scully and Bill weren't the only siblings who had long-standing 
issues between them.  Based on the few times he'd seen Charlie and 
Bill interact on the beach that afternoon, and then later at dinner, 
there were some interesting dynamics going on there as well.  Mulder 
supposed it was inevitable.

It was a pleasant night, and they all grew quiet as the ocean breeze 
kicked up, whistling through the screens with the marine smell of 
salt and sea oats. The candle flames danced and flickered on their 
wicks, but were not extinguished. Somewhere above them, they heard 
the sound of a window either opening or closing.

"Are we too loud?" Charlie called up.

Scully's voice came down to them through the screen, her low whisper 
sounding strangely close.  "No, Wim's sleeping fine.  I'm just 
trying to get a little more air in here."

"Or eavesdropping to see if we're talking about you," Charlie added, 
with a wink at Mulder.  Mulder grinned at the easy way Charlie 
teased his sister.

"That's why I'm the smart one," Scully came back softly, and Mulder 
imagined he could hear her smiling as the trio on the deck laughed 
again.  

He was still glad they had come.  Scully hadn't seen Charlie in 
years, and it was clear that she had missed her younger brother, and 
was enjoying his company as much as Charlie seemed to enjoy hers.  
Whatever the situation with Bill, maybe it was worth a little 
awkwardness, a little discomfort if it meant a chance for Scully to 
spend time with the rest of her family.  As for himself, he liked 
Charlie and Joy a lot; they were proving themselves to be 
entertaining and interesting companions.  

Joy had turned her head and was studying Mulder thoughtfully.

"Why Wim?" she asked.

"That's what was on the box he came in," Mulder said, looking at her 
without expression.  His eyes, however, belied his humor.

Joy read his intention and rolled her eyes dramatically.  Charlie 
laughed, commenting, "William is a big name for a little baby."

Mulder nodded, thinking perhaps he meant that in more ways than one.

"William," Joy said experimentally.  "Will, Willie, Billy, Bill -"

"- not Bill," Mulder interrupted, with a shake of his head.  Then he 
shrugged.  The name was self-explanatory.  "Wim."

Joy's direct gaze remained focused on Mulder.  "So why Mulder and 
Scully?" she prodded.  "Is that an F.B.I. thing?"

Mulder considered the question, a fond smile on his lips.  "I don't 
know," he said after a moment.  "Not everyone calls each other by 
their surnames.  For us it started as a work thing and I guess it 
just stuck."

Charlie was still pondering something, his head was tilted slightly 
left, looking at Mulder with an arched brow that reminded Mulder a 
lot of Scully, especially behind the glasses. "Your father was a 
William, right? That's what I heard, anyway."  Mulder nodded in 
confirmation, and Charlie continued. "Was your dad a 'Wim' too?"

Mulder shook his head and drained his bottle of beer.  "Bill," he 
said carefully, setting the bottle down on the table, his voice 
neutral when he added, "Like your dad."

There was a long pause, one that revealed more about Mulder's 
relationship to his father than he would have divulged out loud.  
Joy looked from one man to the other. "Wow," she said. "You mean 
*both* your fathers were named Bill?"

"What are the chances?" Mulder quipped, glad to be steering away 
from an uncomfortable conversation.

"Zero - in my situation," she said, leaning back in her chair and 
hooking her bare heels on the edge of the seat.  "I don't know who 
my father is."

Mulder nodded politely, and there was a long pause.  There seemed to 
be an uncertainty in the air regarding the direction of the topic, 
and Mulder couldn't read Joy's vocal inflection or her expressions 
with enough confidence to comfortably continue the conversation.  So 
he said nothing.

"Joy grew up in a commune," Charlie explained finally.  "Instead of 
a single mom and dad, she was raised by a village."

Mulder glanced at Joy, and saw her expression and her body language 
remained open.  "No kidding?" he asked, with interest.  "A real 
flower child, huh?"

Joy grimaced and shook his head.  "Not exactly," she said.  "It 
started out kind of like that, I guess, but it was a co-op, really."

Mulder nodded.  "Was it self-sufficient or based on trade?"

"Trade," Joy replied over the tops of her knees as she bounced them 
together with nervous energy.  "We produced pottery and jewelry that 
we sold and traded for materials and necessities."

"She learned about art and how to make a deal," Charlie added, his 
voice laced with pride.  "That's why she's such a kick-ass gallery 
agent now."

Mulder could imagine that.  With her confidence and direct manner, 
he might have guessed she would be a shrewd negotiator.  And Charlie 
was an artist - Scully had mentioned once that his medium was 
sculpture - as evidenced by the permanent tinge of gray modeling 
clay that lingered around the cuticles of his fingernails.

"Is that how you met?" Mulder asked.

There was a pause as Joy and Charlie looked at each other with 
amusement. "Sort of," Joy replied without breaking eye contact.  
Then she turned her head toward Mulder.  "We met at a gallery 
opening."

"Just like John and Yoko," Charlie added, and Joy gave him a playful 
slap.

"Shut *up* -!" she complained. "You always say that, and we are 
*nothing* like John and Yoko."

Charlie laughed, and it was evident this was one of their favorite 
things to bicker over.  "Oh come on," Charlie said. "There are 
similarities."

"Name one."

"John Lennon played the guitar."  Charlie tossed his head, shaking 
the hair off his forehead.  "*I* play the guitar."

"Yeah, but you can't sing on pitch to save your life," Joy 
qualified.  "And Yoko is Japanese.  I'm Chinese."

"Half," Charlie qualified.

"The half that'll whoop your ass, *Scully*!" she exclaimed, standing 
up and reaching out to grab him, emphasizing his last name.  Charlie 
caught hold of her wrists first, pulling her down into his lap as 
she struggled against him, laughing.

"That's enough of that, *Yuen*."

Mulder stood, smiling at them as they wrestled.  "Anybody want 
another beer while I'm inside?"

"Yes," Joy said, rolling her head back and looking at him upside 
down. Charlie tickled her, and she curled into a ball, giggling.

"Make that two," Charlie added with a grin.

When Mulder returned from the kitchen via the restroom, three beers 
in hand, Joy and Charlie were necking in Charlie's chair.  
"...*Sand-crab cocktail*," Charlie was whispering low against her 
neck, his teeth nipping at her ear.

Joy chuckled, leaning cat-like into his touch.  Mulder gave them a 
sheepish smile when they looked up, and set two beers down on the 
top of the table.  There was a enough sexual energy emanating from 
the two of them to make him consider turning in, but Joy climbed off 
Charlie's lap and slid back into her own chair, grabbing one of the 
beers.

"So," she said, drawing out the word and maintaining direct eye 
contact with Charlie as she twisted the cap off the bottle, "you 
never did say what's going on between Dana and Bill."

"Ahh," Charlie nodded, sitting up in his seat as he grabbed the 
other beer bottle, his eyes flashing as he became more animated.  
"Dana and Bill.  Well, see, it's like this.  Dana was always Dad's 
favorite.  I mean - Dad tried, he tried really hard not to play 
favorites or exclude anyone, but he and Dane, the two of them had 
this special bond.  You'd have to see it to believe it, but once 
you've seen it, you know."

Joy's eyes narrowed as she studied Mulder across the table.  He met 
her gaze and she said, "I've seen something like that before."

Mulder narrowed his eyes slightly, half wanting to ask Joy what she 
meant, but Charlie was continuing his tale.  

"So - as kids, we all *knew* Dana was Dad's favorite.  She was the 
one who could make him proudest, I guess, or the one who was the 
most like him in some ways -I don't know.  But the thing is, Missy 
and I never really had a problem with it.  I mean -"  He paused to 
take a thoughtful sip from his beer, and cleared his throat.  "I 
mean, in a certain respect, I'm sure it probably sucked, you know?  
Dane was Dad's pride and joy - no doubt - but he put a lot, he put 
*so much* pressure on her, too.  Bill never really understood that 
part of it.  Outdoing Dana became this competitive thing with him - 
like everything else, I guess."

"Bill's a pretty competitive guy, huh," Mulder said, a statement of 
fact more than a question.  Charlie's eyes widened and he nodded, 
his brow gathering in an exaggerated frown at the understatement of 
Mulder's comment.

"*Totally*," he said. "From the time we were little kids - he was 
always trying to prove himself to Dad.  Maybe he was trying to prove 
something to himself, I don't know.  So he got all the way to 
Annapolis and became a Naval Officer, just like Dad.  That was a big 
deal, and Bill was *the shit*.  But then Dana got accepted into 
medical school."  Charlie twisted the top off his beer and took a 
drink before continuing.  "She was going to be a doctor.  Save 
lives.  And dad was so proud the day she graduated.  So this thing 
with her and Bill just kept going until Dana dropped the bomb."

"The bomb?" Joy asked, confused.

Mulder understood. "She joined the F.B.I.," he explained.

Charlie nodded.  "Yep.  And it came totally out of nowhere - 
completely floored Dad and Mom.  I remember it was right around 
Christmas time..." He gazed at his beer-bottle, picking at the 
corner of the label.  "She came home for Christmas vacation or 
something I guess, and told Mom and Missy that she'd been accepted 
at Quantico, and ho-ly *shit*, Batman -" He looked up at them and 
grinned ruefully.  "That was, like -" he shook his head.  "Man, I 
don't know.  No one knew how she was gonna tell Dad."

"Was your father upset?" Joy asked.

Charlie took a deep breath and nodded, still gazing at his bottle. 
He glanced up briefly and met Mulder's eye. "Dad was upset - I'm not 
sure exactly why.  If it was because it seemed like a waste of her 
talents, or because he felt like he'd just blown thousands of 
dollars on med school..." Charlie chuffed.  "I think a lot of it was 
that she did it without Dad, you know?  She hadn't consulted him 
about it at all, I don't think.  I think that hurt Dad a lot.  *And* 
he was worried about her, too, of course.  I can remember him and 
Mom having these arguments about how dangerous it would be for her -
"

"Not to mention being a woman in a male-dominated field," Joy said, 
glancing at Mulder.  "And a beautiful, petite woman at that."

Mulder laughed softly.  "Well, Scully's always been able to hold her 
own," he said.  "And then some."

"I bet she could kick some ass," Joy said, smiling at Mulder and 
nodding appreciatively.  Mulder grinned and brought his beer to his 
lips.

"You have *no* idea," he said, taking a swig.  Charlie laughed, and 
Joy settled back into her chair.

"So was that it for your sister and your dad?" she asked. 

"Well, I mean - Dad left the decision up to her," Charlie said.  He 
sat back and draped his arm along the back of Joy's chair, picking 
up a piece of her hair and twirling it around his finger.  "But he 
sure made it clear that he thought she was making a really poor 
choice - that he thought the FBI was a big mistake."

Mulder chewed his lip.  He had never met Scully's father, and knew 
him only through her fond stories and occasional remembrances.  He 
found himself wondering what Ahab would think of his Starbuck if he 
could see her now.  What would he think of the career she had built 
over the last eight years?  Of her choices and decisions, of the 
grandson she had born him, and of the man she had chosen to be the 
father of her baby -?

"And man, let me tell you - Bill just ate that shit up," Charlie was 
saying, and Mulder pulled his attention back to the conversation. "I 
guess he felt like it gave him the advantage.  Dana didn't really 
seem to care - she was never competitive about relationships the way 
Bill was.  She's always wanted Bill to be happy.  But after Dad 
died," Charlie paused and took a breath, sitting forward again. "I 
guess Bill felt like it was his place to carry on Dad's wishes.  He 
was hardest on Dana, maybe for his own reasons, maybe because he 
thought it's what dad would have wanted, even though I think - no, I 
*know* - that no matter what Dane did, or where she worked, at the 
end of the day she was still Daddy's little Starbuck."

Mulder nodded, knowing how important her father's good opinion had 
been to her. While Scully may have come to the same conclusion as 
Charlie - that her father had always loved her unconditionally - the 
conditioned desire for approval was still present in her, even now.  
And it seemed that it was just as strong in Bill.

"Well, she seems to like working as an agent despite what your 
father thought," Joy said.  She turned to Mulder.  "To do it for 
what -?  Ten years?  You've got to love a job to stay at it that 
long.  And from what I've heard it sounds like you've had some 
pretty amazing experiences."

Mulder laughed.  Perhaps she hadn't heard the one about the F.B.I. 
agent who'd been abducted by aliens, presumed dead and then buried 
alive for three months.  There was no way he could respond to her 
question in a general sense.  The F.B.I. had been such a large part 
of his life for so long, it was nearly impossible to separate the 
institution from the emotions he felt.

"It has it good and its bad," he said at last.  "The pay doesn't 
compare to a doctor's salary."

"Eh," Joy said with a dismissive shrug.  "Money isn't everything."

"Says she who doesn't need to worry about it," Charlie reminded her, 
leaning back and resting his feet on the edge of the table.

"I could get by on next to nothing if I had to," Joy retorted.

Mulder shrugged one shoulder.  "It's like anything.  It all depends 
on what you want to get out of it, I guess."

"So what are you doing now?"  Charlie asked, conversationally.  "Any 
plans?"

Mulder smiled.  It was ironic how easily he could talk about these 
issues with Charlie and Joy, and how difficult it was to try to open 
the subject with Scully.  He found himself wondering if she were 
still listening through the window upstairs.  "I don't know," he 
answered truthfully.  "I've given it some thought, but not enough to 
make any kind of decision."

"You'd make a hell of an art dealer," Joy said.  Mulder laughed, and 
she sat up.  "I'm serious!"

He grinned.  "Now that's something I *haven't* considered."  He was 
certain his red-green colorblindness probably wasn't a great 
recommendation.

"Well, you have an eye for beauty, anyway," she stated, leaning back 
in her chair once again.

Charlie blinked at her.  "How would you know that?"

"I can tell," she replied.

"That's not the first assumption you've made about me," Mulder 
challenged her amiably.  "But you don't say exactly what you mean, 
or how you come by your information."

Charlie smiled at Joy, his eyebrows cocked with interest as he 
waited for her to respond to Mulder's direct inquiry.  "Oh, *do* 
tell us, Ms. Yuen," he goaded.

Joy let out a long sigh, tossing her hair back over her shoulder.  
"I pay attention," she said.

That she did, Mulder thought.  In less than twenty-four hours, she 
had walked into the middle of an unknown situation - a complex 
family dynamic fraught with tensions both spoken and unvoiced - and 
she had assessed the scene and all the players with seemingly 
perfect accuracy.  He regarded her over his beer with an expression 
of respect.

"You'd make a hell of a criminal profiler," he told her. Joy 
laughed, but she didn't seem surprised.

Charlie leaned up behind her and put his arms around her shoulders, 
pulling her close to kiss the corner of her jaw with a series of 
quick smooches.  "We've got enough crime-fighters in the family," he 
said.  He glanced at Mulder, cocking one eyebrow with at him.  
"Right?"

Mulder smiled, shrugged, and shook his head as Charlie continued to 
kiss Joy just below her ear.  Her eyes went wide and she let out an 
involuntary shriek of laughter as he closed his teeth on her neck. 
"Ow! Charlie -!"

"Do you think you guys could keep it down out here?"

They all turned to see Bill standing in the doorway.  He was wearing 
his pajamas, and while he didn't look like he had been asleep, he 
did look decidedly grumpy.  He scowled at each of them in turn.  
"We're trying to get some sleep," he said.

"Why don't you close your door then?" Charlie asked, a note of 
petulance creeping into his voice.  Joy pinched him, producing a 
little yelp.

"We're sorry," she said.  This was directed at Bill, but she was 
looking at Charlie, who was rubbing his arm where she had pinched 
him.  Joy glanced at Mulder before she turned back to Bill, and 
Mulder saw the glint of humor in her black eyes.  "We'll be 
quieter," she said.

Bill stood at the door saying nothing, staring at Charlie and Joy 
with a cloudy but intense look.  It was as though he was unsure he 
could trust them to settle down, given their present mood.  He 
probably couldn't, Mulder thought with a secret smile.

"Just try to keep it down, okay?" Bill asked, shifting uncomfortably 
and looking away from Joy's direct gaze.

"Sure," Mulder said, looking up.  "No problem.  Sorry."

Bill looked at him in surprise, as though he had not noticed him 
sitting there before, or had not realized that Mulder could speak.  
The surprise melted quickly into the same bland contempt that Bill 
always seemed to reserve for Mulder, and with one last glance at 
Charlie and Joy, he headed back down the hall.  No one on the porch 
spoke until they heard the door to Bill and Tara's bedroom shut.

Charlie took in a deep breath and let it out, glancing between Joy 
and Mulder with an expression of amusement and indignation.  Joy 
just smiled and closed her eyes, leaning her head to rest on the 
back of her chair.

"We should go up to bed, I guess," she said quietly.

"Fuck that," Charlie said, getting up, a dark look crossing his face 
momentarily.  Joy let out a heavy breath, but did not look up.  "I'm 
getting another beer," Charlie said.  He lifted Joy's bottle, still 
three-quarters full, and set it back down.  He looked at Mulder.  
"You?"

Mulder shook his head and Charlie stepped around the table and back 
inside.  Mulder and Joy sat in silence for a moment.  There was a 
low rumble like thunder somewhere deep in the distance.  Joy rolled 
her head slightly to the side and opened her eyes to look at Mulder.

"How long have you and Dana been together?" she asked softly.

Mulder glanced away for a second, took a sip from his beer.  "She 
was assigned to my office at the Bureau about nine years ago," he 
said, meeting Joy's eyes again.  She regarded him carefully, as if 
leaving nothing unchecked..

"That's not what I meant," she said.

"I know," he said.

Joy narrowed her eyes a fraction. A slow smile bloomed on her lips. 
Then she laughed, looking away with a shake of her head. There was 
another long pause. Outside, the moon, just a shade less than full, 
had risen up over the water. It hung in the sky over the waves, huge 
and rusty-gold, like a flattened coin. Joy turned slightly, hooking 
one arm over the back of her chair, and gazed out at the landscape. 
Mulder turned his warming beer bottle in his hands.

"I don't know if I could pinpoint an exact time," he said then, his 
voice low, knowing that this was both true and not true. He could 
and *did* clearly remember exact times, knew exactly the factual 
starting points of their relationship: the first handshake, the 
first kiss, the first sex.  These were moments he could recall down 
to the second, to the very smallest detail. But these were only the 
physical mile-markers of a journey that didn't seem to have had a 
beginning.  He could not remember a time when he had *begun* to love 
Scully - he just always had.

Joy was nodding slowly as she watched the moon through the screens.  
She turned her head to look at him.  He found it difficult to gauge 
her expression.

"Must be nice to have someone who knows you so well," she said 
softly, as though to herself.  Mulder brought his brows together, 
waiting for her to continue, but before she could, Charlie had 
returned, clomping onto the porch and flipping his bottle-cap into 
the waste-bin in the corner.  He had six new beers tucked under his 
arms.  He grinned at the look Joy gave him.

"I figured we still had some yarns to spin," he said, setting the 
beers on the table with a series of resounding thumps.  He glanced 
back inside, toward the first floor bedrooms. "So tell me about the 
X-Files," he said, smiling at Mulder.  "And working with my know-it-
all sister..."

~

It was after  one a.m. when Mulder finally climbed the stairs behind 
Charlie and Joy, ready to call it a night.  He'd had several beers 
and he felt a soft buzz, but it was a long way from drunk.  He felt 
great.  Relaxed.

"Goodnight," Joy said as she passed, Charlie clapping him on the 
shoulder as Mulder turned the doorknob to his bedroom, trying not to 
wake Scully or the baby.  He looked over his shoulder at them and 
grinned.  Charlie was already wrapping himself around Joy and they 
had just reached their door.  He envied their openness, and their 
easy physicality.  

He pushed the door to his own room open as quietly as possible, 
noting that both of the other inhabitants were sleeping soundly.  
Walking over to the crib, he ran his fingertips gently over his 
son's satiny head.  Such a beautiful baby.  He leaned down and 
kissed Wim's shoulder, then he turned to face the bed, and smiled.  
Scully was passed out on her stomach, the side of her face smashed 
against the pillow, her mouth slightly open and a barely audible 
snore emanating from her throat.

He walked softly back to the door and pulled it shut behind him,  
toeing off his shoes and pulling his shirt over his head as he 
watched the rhythmic rise and fall of Scully's back.  He swayed 
slightly to the right, and took a quick step to correct himself, 
chuckling softly.  Maybe he *was* on the buzzier side of buzzed, but 
he was happy with the way the day had gone - his first full day with 
Clan Scully, and he was still alive.  Still in the game.  He wanted 
to share his happiness, and celebrate with the woman of his heart.

After all, they didn't have to be anywhere in the morning.  They 
were on vacation.

"Scully?" he said softly, hoping she wasn't really sleeping.  She 
didn't respond, and he unbuttoned his shorts, stripping down to just 
his cotton boxers.  He climbed up on the bed and ran the pads of his 
fingers over her forearm, leaning down over her.  "Scully?"

She grunted softly, and drew in a deep breath of air through her 
nostrils.  Moving slowly, he stretched out next to her, folding one 
elbow over the pillow above her head.  "Danaaaaa..." he whispered, 
watching her face carefully.  When she didn't respond, he softly 
sing-songed, "Scull-ee," nuzzling her cheek with the tip of his 
nose.  Her eyelids fluttered, and her breathing changed again as she 
took in one more deep breath.  She turned beneath him until they 
were nearly nose to nose, her eyelids fluttering again, then opened 
her eyes.

He smiled - a broad, uncomplicated smile.

"Hey," she said groggily.

"Hey," he replied.  He smiled into her eyes a moment, caressing the 
side of her face with the pad of his thumb.  "We missed you," he 
said.  "I missed you."

"Mmm," she replied, blinking her eyes to try to keep them open.  "I 
fell asleep reading."  She blinked again, and shifted her body 
slightly, trying, but not succeeding, in stifling a yawn.  "How'd it 
go?"

He smiled at her a moment longer, then leaned down and pressed his 
lips over hers.  He pulled back, and nodded his head.  "Good."

"I thought you'd like Charlie."

"I do.  But it's his sister I'm really after."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he replied, and leaned down for another kiss, coaxing her 
lips apart to access the sweet warmth of her mouth.  She slid one 
hand behind his head, into his hair, and hummed softly as their kiss 
continued, unhurried.  They drifted that way a while.

"You taste like beer," she commented as they finally broke apart.

"I'll go brush," he said, not moving.  It felt too good right where 
he was, and she wasn't really complaining, anyway.

She closed her eyes, and muttered, "S'okay."  Then she sleepily 
blinked up at him again, and smiled.  His heart was thumping 
strongly in his chest, the warm glow of a man contented pumping 
through his veins.  So he kissed her again.  It felt natural and 
right to be together this way.  It had been so long since the last 
time they'd made love, the idea of starting again had nearly 
surpassed their first time in significance.  It felt that way to 
him, anyway, because before that first time, he didn't know what 
they would be like together.  Now that he did, it was a lot harder 
to push those feelings into the background when circumstances 
prevented him from acting on them.

As they kissed, he shifted his body closer to hers, sliding his knee 
between her legs and pressing the thickening, persistent ache at his 
groin into her firm thigh.  

"What's that all about?" she asked sleepily, not without some 
amusement.

"You have to ask?" he replied, nibbling her jaw then dipping lower 
to kiss the underside of her chin.  "They say it's like riding a 
bicycle.  You never forget."

He slid his hand up under the cotton of her pajama top, fingertips 
gliding along the smooth, soft skin to grasp her breast, kneading it 
softly.  She made a soft noise in response, and he nuzzled and 
tasted her neck, dragging his lips up to her ear, drawing the lobe 
into his mouth and biting it gently.

He slid his fingers out from under her top, glancing down and 
drawing out his anticipation by releasing the button at the bottom, 
taking one button at a time, revealing only a small amount of skin 
as he progressed.  He moved down the bed to kiss the first patch of 
exposed skin, silky and translucent, before moving up the line of 
buttons to unhook the next.  It slipped easily out of the 
buttonhole, and he pulled apart the fabric, lowering his lips once 
again to her pale skin.

"This feels almost like starting over again," he said, voicing his 
previous thought.  Then he slipped another button out of its hole, 
and raised his head to smile up at her for her response.

Scully had fallen back to sleep.

He knew she was tired, and what she needed more than anything was 
rest.  But it was her appearance that convinced him not to wake her 
again.  He watched her face, noting how peaceful and how innocent 
she looked, laying there with her head turned to one side, that same 
lock of hair that he had smoothed away so many times before clinging 
stubbornly to her cheek.  She was almost other-worldly.  Angelic.  
He refastened the buttons he'd released, moved back up the bed, and 
pushed the hair away from her face, watching her fondly a moment 
longer as he hovered over her.  Then he laid down beside her, 
reached out and took her hand in his.

Scully rolled onto her side and burrowed into him.

"Mulder..." she murmured, still sleeping.

He smiled, and slid his arms around her, pulling her closer so that 
her head rested on his shoulder.

"I'm right here," he whispered, pressing his lips into her hair.  
"Get some sleep."

She exhaled one hitching breath, and her breathing returned to a 
slow, rhythmic pace.

The moon, higher now in the sky, shone through the open window, 
illuminating the room vaguely, bathing the sleeping figures of 
mother and child in soft silvery light.  At that moment, there was 
nothing that could compare to the beauty before him.  It was a 
perfect moment, and Mulder closed his eyes, feeling like the 
luckiest son of a bitch in the world.

~
Monday
~

Mulder jogged lightly down the long flight of steps to 
the stretch of sand and beach grass between the house 
and the dunes.  It was just past 6:45; the dunes and the 
beach beyond were cloaked in the purple still of the 
last minutes before dawn; everything quiet save a faint 
breeze in the grass and the constant low susurrus of the 
waves.  He breathed deeply.  He had missed going out 
four days now, and he could feel the need to run rising 
inside him like an ache.

His running shoes thudded dully against the slats of the 
wooden walkway as he crested the dunes, picking up speed 
as he went, feeling the strange shift and drag of the 
sand when he left the boardwalk for the open beach.  He 
ran at an angle, toward the water and the hard-packed 
sand at the shoreline.  The air was soft.  He could hear 
the cry of seagulls.  A golden shimmer on the horizon 
marked the spot where the sun was about to emerge.  

The beach had changed with the overnight tide.  What had 
been a nearly flat stretch to the water the day before 
was now interrupted by a comparatively steep and curving 
slope, pushed up and carved into the beach by the 
shifting currents.  Mulder bounded down it carefully, 
landing on the wet sand below, just at the edge of the 
foamy wash.  He had already decided he didn't care if 
his shoes got wet.

He ran.  At first, he ran without thinking, 
concentrating on the feel of the sand beneath his feet, 
the pleasant strain of his muscles, the rip of salt air 
in his lungs.  He was still recovering from the months 
of atrophy; his legs were still weak, and when he looked 
in the mirror, they seemed pitifully thin.  It would 
take time to build his strength back to what it had 
been, and there had been occasions that had caused him 
to wonder if he would ever regain his former condition.  
He was not, he knew, getting any younger...

*Use it or lose it.*

For all that though, he felt good - and what was more, 
he *knew* he felt good as he pounded lightly down the 
beach, with the sun sliding steadily upward over his 
right shoulder.  He had slept well, he planned to eat 
well when he got back to the house, and the day promised 
to be fine and bright.  Anything seemed surmountable 
today.

Maybe he would make pancakes.

He dodged inward around a widely spaced trio of 
fishermen, their lines stretched taut into the surging 
breakers.  The ocean was still low in the windless 
morning chill, but far from placid, rolling into the 
shore with a steady churning power.  It would be rough 
again today.  One of the fishermen raised his hand in 
greeting as Mulder jogged past, and Mulder returned his 
salute with a wave and an easy smile.  Ahead of him, the 
Avon fishing pier loomed, ghostlike and imposing in the 
sparkling morning haze.  He swept back onto the firmer 
sand, arching his back and pushing harder, aiming for 
the rib-like pilings.

He would start running on Georgetown's outdoor track 
when they got back to the city, he decided.  Jogging the 
streets around Scully's neighborhood - or his own, for 
that matter - was too fraught with stops and obstacles.  
He needed to find somewhere he could run like this: flat 
out, focused inward, using everything he had, feeling 
the coiling burn in his legs and the satisfying, 
rhythmic coordination of every muscle...

*When they got back to the city.*  

The thought resounded, nagging him, and he found himself 
slowing slightly, his initial burst of energy flagging.  

They would be back in the city in less than a week.  And 
then what?  He and Scully had had been living in this 
weird state of suspended motion for the last four 
months, walking through one day at a time, living under 
the unspoken pretense that if they ignored the hard 
conversations and difficult decisions, they might just 
solve themselves or fade away.  It only made it worse 
that neither of them were that naive, that they both 
knew - like children at the end of summer vacation - 
that reality lurked just around the next corner, ready 
to pounce.

Mulder could feel the weight of impending change, knew 
they were fast approaching the end of their self-
constructed limbo.  Scully's maternity leave would be 
over in a matter of weeks, and he needed to decide where 
his own professional future lay.  There were choices to 
be made, and soon.  They could no longer afford the 
dubious comfort of stasis.

They needed to talk.

He slowed to a stop several yards from the base of the 
pier and paced the sand, shaking his legs restlessly as 
he squinted up at the massive uprights.  The pilings 
stood forty or fifty feet above the waves at their 
highest, stretching a hundred yards or more out into the 
water.  Underneath was a baffling tangle of verticals, 
growing blacker and more ominous as they disappeared 
into the beach, creating a cavern that yawned out of the 
sand beneath the tackle-shop above.  The air smelled of 
tar and seaweed and fish as Mulder breathed deeply, 
turning his back on the dangerous underside of the pier 
and gazing back in the direction he had come.  His own 
footprints, gone in places thanks to the waves, led his 
eyes southward down the beach, past the fishermen and 
the shifting layers of mist and sunlight.  He could just 
make out the shadow of the lighthouse in the distance, 
its barber-pole stripes standing out through the golden-
white haze.

He realized he was grinning.  The beach looked like a 
scene from a postcard.  He would head back to the house 
and wake Scully up, so she could see the long slanting 
shadows on the beach and the way the sun was glistening 
on the ocean.  He would show her how beautiful it all 
was.

Anything was surmountable on a day like today, he 
thought, smiling.  He took another deep breath and began 
to run again.

~

Mulder climbed up the steps and crossed the deck, 
entering the house through the French doors that led 
into the great room. Maggie and Tara were having coffee 
at the kitchen island, and Wim was on Maggie's lap, 
jabbering "Dye dye dye dye" at Tara while he gnawed on 
his slobbery fist.  He held his red, blue and yellow 
plastic keys in his other hand, shaking them and kicking 
his chubby legs energetically at the sight of his 
father.

"Hey, buddy!"  Mulder exclaimed as he saw him, wiping 
the perspiration from his temples with the sleeves of 
his tee-shirt.  "Who's got you?"

"Dye dye dye!" Wim replied enthusiastically, and Mulder 
chuckled, Maggie and Tara joining in with soft laughter.

Mulder stepped closer, but stopped a fair distance away 
from them.  "Yeah, 'dye dye dye' too.  I'd pick you up 
but I'm sure I don't smell so good."  He glanced around 
the room, seeing nobody else was around.  "Where's your 
mommy?"

Maggie smiled up at him, scooting Wim into a more 
upright position.  "I told her to sleep as long as she 
liked."

"Let's hope she listened," Mulder replied.

"Dye dye *dye*!" Wim exclaimed louder, demanding his 
father's attention. Maggie had to duck her face out of 
the way as his arms flailed to the sides and in front of 
him.

"Your mommy isn't going to get much sleep with that 
going on," Mulder admonished him with a chuckle.  "Are 
you giving your grandma a hard time?"

"No, he's an angel."  Maggie placed a soft kiss on his 
head.  "You go on and shower or do whatever you need to 
do, Fox.  We're just fine."

Mulder offered Maggie a grateful grin as he crossed the 
room toward the stairs.  Bill and Matthew came out of 
the back bedroom just as he started up the staircase, 
Matthew dressed in clean shorts and a tee-shirt, his 
hair slicked down and combed into place.

"I want some haygs," he announced to his mother and 
grandmother, his feet thumping on the wood floor as he 
ran across the living room to join them in the kitchen 
area.

"What do you say?" Tara asked him.

"Pwease!  Pwease I want some haygs!" Matthew replied, 
bouncing up and down.

Mulder chuckled as he reached the top of the stairs, 
understanding 'haygs' meant 'eggs.'  He carefully pushed 
open the door to the bedroom, peeking around the edge to 
see if he'd disturbed Scully.  The bed was empty, a 
tangle of sheets twisted at the foot of the bed.  The 
sound of running water came from the bathroom.  He let 
out his breath and slipped into bedroom, closing the 
door behind him.  

Scully had been sleeping just as soundly when he'd woken 
that morning as she had been when he'd climbed into bed 
the night before.  He hoped she had caught up on some of 
the rest she had missed lately.  He also hoped she'd 
finish her shower soon, because he needed to use the 
toilet.  He sat down on the side of the bed, stripping 
off his shoes and socks, and decided to go in and use 
the bathroom anyway.  He stood and pulled his damp tee-
shirt over his head, using it to towel off the excess 
perspiration as he crossed the room to the bath.

The door was unlocked, and he called out "Scully?" as he 
entered the humid room.  There was steam obscuring the 
mirror over the vanity, but not so much that it lingered 
visibly in the air.  Still, the temperature was markedly 
higher than it had been in the bedroom.

"Yeah?" she replied, her voice resonant from inside the 
cavernous shower.  

"Just me," he said, peering in at her.  The shower was 
long and deep - so deep that it didn't need a door - 
with small tiles covering the floor and walls.  A 
skylight near the top let in a shaft of steamy golden 
light.  He ran his eyes over her quickly.  "You sleep 
well?"

She looked back over her shoulder at him, nodding as she 
worked up the lather on her shower puff.  "I haven't 
slept that well in a long time."

He turned with a grin, stepping over to the toilet that 
was separated from the rest of the room by a short wall.

"You should see the beach this morning," he said, 
dropping his shorts and relieving his bladder.

"Nice?" she asked.

"Beautiful.  You can see the lighthouse if you walk down 
the beach a ways..."  He had the impression that he was 
being watched, and glanced over his shoulder to see her 
replacing her bottle of shampoo on the built-in shelf, 
grinning at him.  He was partially blocked, but he 
imagined a fair amount of bare ass was still visible 
from her angle.

He smirked, and turned back around to shake and flush.  
A good night's sleep seemed to have worked wonders on 
Scully's mood - the strain and tension that had become 
habitual in her voice lately was noticeably absent this 
morning, and Mulder hoped that she was feeling better 
about staying through the rest of the week - hoped she 
felt as hopeful as he did.  

Glancing up, he caught Scully's fogged reflection in the 
vanity mirror, the soft, pale shape of her body moving 
languorously behind the mist of steam.  Stepping out of 
his shorts, he decided he would join her in the shower - 
why waste water?  

He kicked his shorts to the side and, looking in through 
the doorway, saw that she had her eyes closed, lathering 
the shampoo into a thick foam, like a gothic halo around 
her head.  He drifted over to the shower opening, 
leaning one shoulder against the wall.  

The white suds were sliding in wet rivulets through her 
crimson hair, over her neck and shoulders, caressing her 
breasts and abdomen and gliding down her thighs, leaving 
small, transparent bubbles clinging stubbornly to her 
smooth skin.  It had been a while since he'd had the 
full on, leisurely view, and he noted that she looked 
exactly as he remembered from before the pregnancy.  Her 
abdomen was flat, flaring in at the waist and out at the 
hips.  Her thighs and calves were well-toned and 
shapely.  She'd been doing crunches twice a day, and he 
knew that if he were to touch her, her skin would be 
soft but she'd be solid underneath.  

He curled his hands at his sides, drawing the corner of 
his lower lip into his mouth, worrying it between his 
teeth before letting it go.  He wanted to touch her.

She took a step backwards, dropping her head back 
underneath the spray.  Her mouth fell open slightly, her 
neck and throat exposed to him - long, tender, and 
porcelain white.  Farther below, her breasts swayed 
gently as she ran her hands over her hair, rinsing, 
rinsing, rinsing, a flood of lather and bubbles flowing 
over her body and swirling at her feet before 
disappearing down the drain.  He took it all in with his 
eyes, his hunger swelling the longer he watched. 

Scully turned her head slightly to the side, a soft, 
knowing smile on her lips that caused him to suspect 
that she knew she had a voyeur.  That was preferable, he 
rationalized, because it meant that she knew what she 
was doing to him - perhaps that she was even doing it on 
purpose - which made his objective in what he wanted to 
do to her a whole lot easier.

"Your mother's enjoying her time with her grandson," he 
remarked, his voice echoing inside the enclosed chamber, 
sounding scratchy to his own ears.

"Mmmm," she hummed in reply, lowering her chin and 
slowly opening her eyes, the beautiful aquamarine of her 
irises coloring in the picture as her wide pupils 
focused on his eyes in a direct, purposeful gaze.

~

Scully noted with satisfaction that Mulder appeared to 
be quite interested in her shampooing ritual.  She'd 
suspected he'd been watching her, and as she ran her 
eyes leisurely down his long frame, she found 
confirmation in his blossoming erection.  Raising her 
eyes back to his, she smiled broadly.  Good timing.

"I guess there's no reason to hurry down, then," she 
commented, her eyes flitting down to his groin and back 
up again.  He took that as an invitation and stepped 
inside, pursing his lips, smiling as he advanced on her.  

"That's exactly what I was thinking."

Her eyes sparkled as she moved aside, allowing the warm 
spray to hit him just below his knees.  Reaching along 
the wall, she grabbed her shower puff and a bottle of 
shower gel off the shelf and squeezed a fair amount of 
gel onto the puff, lathering it up.

"C'mere," she said, moving closer rather than waiting 
for him to follow her instructions.  She scrubbed the 
lather over his chest and shoulders, watching the foam 
cling to his skin as she put the puff back on the shelf.  
His hands fell lightly onto her hips and, reaching out, 
she used her palms to smear the soap over his shoulders, 
up his neck and down his arms.  He closed his eyes, a 
pleased smile on his lips as her fingers traced over his 
skin.

She circled around behind him, grabbing the puff and 
scrubbing his back, working the soap down his spine.  
Tucking the puff between her knees, she used her fingers 
to knead the muscles between his shoulder blades before 
running her hands down his sides and over his buttocks.  
Her brain sluggishly acknowledged the route her hands 
were discovering: trapezius, latissimus dorsi, obliquus 
externus, gluteus maximus.  Her ideas, however, were 
more primal than academic.  She gave his ass a gentle 
squeeze, causing him to grin over his shoulder as she 
grabbed the puff and crouched down to quickly soap up 
his legs.  

When she stood and moved back around to face him, he 
pulled her forward until their slippery skins pressed 
together, soapy, slick and wet.  She made a soft noise 
in the back of her throat at the contact, laying her 
cheek on his chest and wrapping her arms around his 
waist, dropping the puff to the floor.  Inside she 
heaved a huge sigh of contentment - it felt like she was 
finally coming home after a long journey. 

Mulder lowered his head and pressed his lips against her 
wet head, using his fingers to raise her chin so that he 
could kiss her mouth.  There was a faint flavor of soap 
in their kiss, but she didn't care, opening up to him 
readily.  They moved against each other luxuriously, 
changing angles of the kiss, Mulder pulling up briefly 
to breathe, exhaling, "Scully," with reverence before 
diving in again.

"I know," Scully replied tonelessly when they shifted 
angles once more.  He began to press forward, moving her 
back slowly, kissing her until he had her against the 
wall.  She drew in a deep breath as her skin made 
contact with the cool tile, the sensation strange but 
pleasant in contrast to the delicious heat of his body 
pressing into her from the front.

He moved slightly, crouching down far enough to slide 
his hands behind her thighs and lifting her as he 
pressed closer again, her slick skin sliding easily up 
the wet tile.  She wrapped her legs around his hips and 
found herself suspended between Mulder and the shower 
wall, the proverbial rock and a hard place, his erection 
trapped between them as they paused, face to face.  Time 
seemed to slow to a halt at that point.

Mulder's eyes were deep and golden, staring openly into 
her soul as she gazed back at him, feeling her heart 
constrict in her chest as her stomach performed a 
somersault, leaving her short of breath.  His gaze was 
intense, a rapid-fire of emotion and sensation 
transmitted back to her in mere seconds.

"Mulder," she whispered, reaching a hand up to his face, 
tenderly stroking his cheek with her thumb.  

Everything she felt, everything she needed she voiced 
through her own eyes.  She was too far gone at this 
moment to care about anything beyond this small, 
enclosed space and the man underneath her.  He let out a 
shattered breath and kissed her again, deep and 
thorough, raising her up and guiding himself into 
position so he could slide into her.  She broke the 
kiss, wrapping both arms around his shoulders, burying 
her face in the crook of his neck and holding on tight, 
skin-to-skin, heart to heart.  His pulse was rapid and 
strong against her lips.

He hissed as he moved within her, slow and inquisitive.  
Her body felt like dark melting chocolate as the heat 
from where they were joined spread within her.  She 
groaned softly, raising her face to press her mouth 
against his ear.  He groaned in response, letting his 
thighs help support her as he released his grip on one 
of her legs to press his palm flat against the wall.  
She loosened her tight hold on him, laying her head back 
against the wall and sliding her hands down his sides, 
his abs flexing at her touch as she looked into his 
face.

His mouth was slack, and his eyes flashed, holding onto 
hers with a sharp intensity that made her muscles 
contract involuntarily around him.  He caught his breath 
and whispered something unintelligible, setting his jaw 
as he began to push with a little more purpose.

There was a loud thud just outside the bathroom door and 
Mulder's expression lost some of its ecstasy as he 
blinked his eyes in confusion, the noise registering, 
but not completely.  Scully tried to pull some of her 
focus away from him, from them, and back to her 
surroundings - someone was in their bedroom...

Maggie's voice rang out from the other side of the 
bathroom door.  "Dana?"

Scully's eyes went wide as her heart rate tripled, 
causing her to pant to catch her breath.  "Yeah Mom?" 
she replied, trying to sound as normal as possible.  
Mulder froze in place, their dance temporarily suspended 
in motion as they looked at each other in fear.

"Honey, where have you put Wim's clean onesies?"

Scully tried to think, her head in a thick fog of 
arousal and not cooperating.  Onesies?  What?  It was 
suddenly difficult to get a good breath of air in the 
humidity of the shower.  "Um..."

Mulder mouthed at her, "Changing table," and she nodded 
slightly, squeezing her eyes shut in the concentration 
it took to keep her voice level.

"Did you look on the shelf under his changing table?" 
she called out.

In the shower, their breathing was labored, but she 
hoped the sound of the spray coming from the showerhead 
was all that her mother could hear from the bedroom.  
When there wasn't an immediate response from Maggie or 
even a corresponding sound, Mulder shifted his hips 
again, moving his face toward hers.  Scully stopped him 
with heavy palm against his shoulder.  He groaned in 
frustration, causing her to shoot him a look of warning.

This time, Maggie was standing right next to the 
bathroom door, sounding like she was in the same room 
with them, when she said, "There's nothing there, 
honey."

Scully went into panic mode, giving Mulder a frantic 
look of apology and motioning for him to put her down.  
"Um, just a second!" she called, sliding out from behind 
him and bolting out of the shower, quickly grabbing a 
towel from the wrack and wrapping it around her torso.  
Her mother was just on the other side of the door, and 
Scully noticed that the door sat right against the latch 
- it hadn't been shut, let alone locked.

Inside the shower, there was a whimper and a soft thud - 
Mulder's head hitting the wall, she guessed, while 
easing herself out the bathroom door.  The cool, dry air 
of the bedroom stung her skin like a slap, and she drew 
in a deep breath, exhaling loudly as she pulled the door 
closed behind her.  Maggie was just outside, holding 
Wim.

"I'm sorry," Scully mumbled, rushing past her mother to 
the changing table without looking her in the eye, 
hoping Maggie couldn't see the physical effects of 
sexual intercourse written all over her face.  

"Dye dye dye!" exclaimed her messy son, kicking his legs 
and shaking a slobbery fist at her.

There were no clean onesies on the shelf under the 
changing table, so she searched the room for Wim's 
suitcase.  It was nowhere to be seen, and on a chance 
she got down on her knees and looked under the bed, 
where she saw the luggage shoved out of the way amongst 
the dust-bunnies.  One of Mulder's sweaty socks 
assaulted her olfactory sense and she knocked it across 
the floor with a huff.

Scully pulled out the suitcase and located a clean 
outfit for Wim, then waited while her mother - in no 
hurry to get Wim dressed - cooed and cuddled the baby.  
Trying to coax her breathing back to a more normal pace, 
she set about finding an outfit for herself - there was 
no point in returning to the shower.  Mulder had 
probably finished without her anyway.  With a sigh of 
resignation, she pulled open a drawer on her own dresser 
and took out clean underclothes, a pair of shorts and a 
tee-shirt.  Moving at her normal speed, she had dressed 
herself completely before Maggie had even started on 
Wim.

~

Charlie and Joy were in the kitchen with Tara, Bill and 
Matthew when Scully, Maggie and Wim came down the 
stairs, Scully's hair still wet but combed back from her 
face.  Charlie looked up at his sister and gave her a 
wide grin.  Her brow furrowed in confusion, she returned 
his look.

"You must be *famished*," he said as she sat down on one 
of the stools at the center island.

"I am, actually," she said, turning her head to see 
where Maggie had taken Wim.  They were in the living 
room, sitting on the sofa near where Matthew had spilled 
an old can of tinker toys onto the large rag rug.  Bill 
was sitting on the floor with him, helping him build a 
structure.  

"That's good, Matty.  What do you call that?" Bill 
asked, handing him another round hub.

"It's a wighthows," Matty replied.  "Daddy, I wanna go 
see deh wighthows."

"We'll go tomorrow, big guy," Bill replied.

"I'm making breakfast," Charlie announced in a grand 
manner, looking pointedly at his sister before pulling 
open the refrigerator door with a flourish.  "Let's see, 
you'll definitely need protein..."

Tara was sitting at the dining table, writing postcards 
with a delighted smirk, and Joy was standing in the 
middle of the kitchen, looking at Charlie with amusement 
and leaving Scully to feel like she had walked into a 
movie that had already started.  By most standards it 
was still early, but somehow she had begun her day a 
step behind everyone else, it seemed. 

When Mulder came down the stairs a few minutes later, 
Scully looked up, meeting his gaze across the room with 
an apologetic wince.  He shook his head at her, pressing 
his lips into a resigned sort of frown as he rolled his 
eyes.

"Hey, man!" Charlie called to him across the room, 
causing Bill to look up in surprise.  "How about some 
breakfast?  Bet you're hungry, huh?"

"Hey," Mulder replied with less enthusiasm, ignoring 
Bill's eyes and sinking onto the stool next to Scully.  
She drew in a deep breath and exhaled heavily.

Charlie leaned his palms on the countertop across the 
island from them.  "You were up and out early this 
morning," he commented, turning his grin on Mulder.

"I went for a run on the beach," Mulder said.  He 
squinted at the coffeemaker on the counter across from 
them.  "Is that fresh coffee?"

"It is," Joy replied, reaching into the cabinet to pull 
out a mug.  "Dana?" she looked over her shoulder, her 
eyebrows raised in question.

"Yes - please," Scully said.  "Thank you."  She inhaled 
deeply as Joy sat the two mugs of coffee down in front 
of them.  It was a dark, strong brew, and smelled great.  
Just what she needed. 

Charlie was still watching her with a wide grin, and she 
looked up at him with an eyebrow raised as she doctored 
her coffee.  "What?"

Charlie shrugged with nonchalance.  "I was just 
thinking..."

She took a sip from her mug, studying him.  His 
expression indicated he was nearly busting to say 
something, but he didn't reply.  "What?" she repeated.

He and Joy exchanged an amused look, and Scully put her 
mug down on the counter, feeling justifiably testy, 
considering the way her morning had gone so far.  "Are 
you gonna tell me what's going on?"

Charlie looked down, grinning, then back up at her.  "I 
was telling Joy just this morning that Mom has always 
had a pretty lousy sense of timing," he said, his voice 
lowered so that Maggie couldn't hear.

Scully blinked at him.  He was obviously trying to make 
some point, but she wasn't up to guessing what it might 
be.  "So?"

"Soooo," he dragged the word out, lowering his voice.  
"I guess whoever built this house must've decided to cut 
down on the pipe-work by putting your bathroom right on 
the other side of ours."

Scully stared at him, and a slow blush began to rise on 
her face as the realization of what he was saying dawned 
on her.  She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it 
and looked over at Mulder instead.

Mulder had his head bowed and he was biting his lip, not 
meeting her gaze.  Joy had covered her mouth with her 
hand and turned her back to them, and Charlie looked at 
his sister, then Mulder, laughing silently, waiting for 
him to break.

It wasn't a long wait.  When Scully closed her eyes, her 
shoulders drooping like she wanted to slide to the 
floor, Mulder couldn't hold back any longer and he 
laughed out loud, Charlie and Joy joining in.  Scully 
covered her face with her hands, her chest hitching with 
mortified laughter.

"Oh my God," she breathed in horror, setting the others 
off into fresh peals of laughter.

"It's alright, Sis," Charlie said quietly, still 
chuckling as the laughter died down.  "We all know where 
that baby came from.  I feel for you though, stuck in 
the room next to Mom -"

"At least we didn't break the towel bar," Mulder 
commented, causing Charlie to do a double take.  Joy 
burst out laughing once again, and covered her mouth 
when Maggie looked up in surprise.

"Thank God we've got the entire downstairs to 
ourselves," Tara commented from the table.  They all 
turned to look at her, and she raised her head from her 
postcards, flashing them a bright, knowing smile.  
"Isn't that right, honey?" she glanced over her shoulder 
at her husband.

Bill looked up from the floor.  Next to him, Maggie was 
laying Wim down on a baby blanket, and she looked up as 
well.  "What was that?" Bill asked.

Tara merely grinned at him, and he got up and walked 
over to where she was seated.  He leaned one hand on the 
table, peering down at her from behind.

"I *said*," she lowered her voice, turning her head 
toward him, "it's a good thing we've got the bottom 
floor to ourselves.  You know, with everyone else 
upstairs..." Her eyes sparkled and Bill looked from her 
to the crew in the kitchen, seeing everyone watching him 
with various expressions of mirth.  And then he got it.

"Oh yeah," he grinned, the laughter starting up again.

Maggie wandered over, a curious smile on her face.  
"What's so funny?"

Matthew was right behind her, laughing loudly, including 
himself in the fun.

Everyone laughed at Matthew, then tried to control their 
wayward smiles.  Maggie's expression remained curious 
and slightly confused, and after getting his grin under 
control, Bill laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Charles was cutting up again."  He looked over at his 
brother and winked.  "Isn't that right, Charles."

Charlie grinned, grabbing the skillet and twirling it 
around in his hand.  "Iron Chef, anyone?"  He nearly 
dropped the skillet, but he caught it just in time.  
"Who wants 'em scrambled.  Mom?"

Maggie smiled at him.  "No thank you, dear, I've already 
had my breakfast."

Tara pulled Matthew onto her lap.  "You wanna help mommy 
write a postcard to Aunt Patti?"

"Yeah," Matthew replied.  "Postcard to Aunt Patti, and 
then go to deh wighthows, 'k?"

"Tomorrow," Tara said.  "How about we go down to the 
beach after we finish up here?"

"Okay," he said, amiably.

As this was going on, Scully slid out of her seat at the 
island and walked over to where Maggie had laid Wim down 
on top of a blanket on the floor.  He was on his back, 
trying to stuff his foot into his mouth and she crouched 
down, checking his diaper to see if he was wet.  Mulder 
joined them, squatting down beside her.  He reached out 
and pulled lightly on Wim's other foot, a soft smile on 
his face before he glanced to the side at Scully.

"You okay?" he asked in an undertone.

"Yeah," she replied, and raised her eyes to look at him.  
"You?"

He nodded, smiling sheepishly.  She nodded in 
understanding - of course he'd taken care of himself 
before he left the shower, just as she had known he 
would.  She would have - *should* have done the same 
thing herself.

"Rain check?" he asked, the smile still on his lips but 
his eyes serious.

She met his look with a somber expression that turned 
into a slight smile.  "Yeah.  Rain check."

"How many eggs?" Charlie called from the other room, and 
they both stood slowly, Maggie taking their place beside 
Wim as they returned to their former seats at the 
counter.  Charlie was standing in front of the stove, 
bent way over, tying a folded bandana onto his head.  He 
stood back up, his hair swept back under the faded red 
cloth, and grinned at them.  It was the first time they 
had seen him without a shaggy mop of bangs obscuring 
half his face.  Bill snorted and sat down next to Tara.

"I can't believe they let you wear your hair that long 
at work," he said, pulling the newspaper toward himself.

"Actually, I don't have much choice," Charlie said, 
straight-faced.  "Everyone has to wear their hair long; 
this particular style is strictly enforced."

Charlie waited a beat before letting out a snort of 
laughter at the incredulous look on his brother's face.  
Bill shook his head, nonplussed, while Charlie continued 
to laugh.

"In my business, no one gives a rat's -" he stopped and 
looked up, glancing at Maggie, and at Matthew at the 
table. "- *tail* what my hair looks like, Bill."  He 
picked up an egg-carton from the counter and opened it, 
taking out three eggs.  Throwing them into the air one 
at a time, he performed a quick little juggling act, 
catching all three eggs in a metal mixing bowl, where 
they each landed with a crack-splat. Mulder and Scully 
both winced while Bill regarded his brother without 
amusement.

"Clever," he said.  "Now you'll spend fifteen minutes 
picking the shells out."

Charlie scooped the mostly-intact egg-shells out of the 
bowl with an easy smile, murmuring, "Ahhh, you're just 
jealous."  He brought the bowl closer and picked out a 
few smaller bits, throwing a glance at Mulder and 
Scully. "You don't mind if there's a little crunch in 
your eggs, do you?" he asked. "Good roughage -"

Scully groaned.  "Charlie -"

"Okay okay - I'll get it all out, there's not much..."  
He flicked a few more bits out with his finger and 
reached for the carton again.  "You know, Bill," he 
said, taking another egg out and cracking it one-handed 
over the bowl.  "You sounded a lot like Dad just then."

"I can only imagine what your father would have said 
about that hair, Charles," Maggie interjected lightly 
from the floor.  Bill laughed, his eyes still fixed on 
the paper in front of him.

"Oh, I *know* what he would have said about this hair," 
Charlie mused, smiling to himself as he cracked three 
more eggs into the bowl.  He stood up then, squaring his 
shoulders and puffing out his chest.  He squinted 
closely at Mulder, pointing a finger at him.  "You have 
till tonight to get that hair four-oh and squared away -
"

Scully let out a little bark of laughter, her eyes wide, 
and both Maggie and Bill watched, transfixed.  Mulder 
could tell by their expressions that Charlie's rendition 
of Captain Scully must be fairly accurate.

"- or you're looking at a *Field Day Supreme*, boyo." 
Charlie finished, with both Scully and Bill joining in 
on the last part.  Everyone laughed, still looking 
vaguely bemused.  Charlie picked up the bowl and fork 
and began to beat the eggs. Mulder glanced at Scully, 
who - like her mother and brothers - had a far-away look 
on her face.

"Field Day?" he asked.

Scully blinked and looked up.  Behind them, Bill let the 
paper drift shut and stood up.  "Cleaning," he said with 
a smile, hefting Matthew up from his chair.  "*Hard 
core* cleaning. If a Captain thinks the morale on his 
boat is low -"

"Or just wants to bust everyone's balls -" Charlie 
interjected.

Bill laughed.  "He'll call a *Field Day*," he went on.  
Matthew leaned back in Bill's arms and put a hand on his 
father's shoulder.

"No field day," Matthew whined with a frown.  
"Wighthows!"

"Tomorrow," Bill answered him, "We'll take a field 
*trip* to the lighthouse tomorrow."

"We go to deh beach now," Matthew declared.  When Bill 
fixed a stern look on him, he added,  "Pwease?"

Bill leaned into the little boy and blew a raspberry 
against his neck, causing a delighted shriek.  "Let's 
go," Bill said, glancing down at Tara.  "Ready?" he 
asked.

Tara dotted one last 'i' and looked up brightly.  "Yep." 

Everyone watched as Bill and his family made their way 
back to their rooms.  Charlie turned the burner on under 
his frying-pan.

"Two omelets, crunchy-style, coming right up -!"

~

"Think fast -!"

Mulder looked up from the newspaper he had spread out on 
the counter just in time to catch the basketball Charlie 
tossed at him.  The dishes had been loaded into the 
dishwasher, the pans scrubbed, and for the last fifteen 
minutes, Mulder had been reading about the storm in the 
Caribbean.  Charlie was standing in the living area, 
grinning and waggling his hand for the ball.  Mulder 
threw it back with a smile.

"Wanna play?" Charlie asked, catching the ball one-
handed.  "There's a hoop down in the driveway."

"Yeah, I saw - that's why I picked that up," Mulder 
said, indicating the ball with a nod of his head.

"Oh - so this is *yours* -" Charlie said, spinning the 
ball in his hands.  He glanced at Joy, who was sitting 
at the table with her purse, her organizer open in front 
of her and a look of extreme concentration on her face.  
Charlie faked toward her with the ball, causing her to 
look up from what she was writing with annoyance.

"I don't *think* so -" she warned.

Charlie winked at her, then turned back to Mulder.  "So 
how 'bout a game of one-on-one?"

Mulder took a last swallow of coffee and set his mug in 
the sink.  "Sure," he said.  "Let me get some shoes on."

"Well awwwright," Charlie drawled, twirling the ball on 
his finger as Mulder passed on his way upstairs.

~

Scully was kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed 
when Mulder got to their room, leaning on her elbows 
toward Wim, who lay burbling and squeaking at the center 
of the mattress.  Her hair was dry now, combed neatly 
into her usual style.

"Who's gotchyer toes?" she teased Wim, her voice husky 
and playful as she tickled his feet, wagging her face 
over his pink belly.  "Who's gotchyer toes??"

"Gggh-ee!" Wim responded, kicking his feet.  Mulder 
smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I'm gonna shoot some hoops with your brother," he said, 
stooping to feel for the shoes he had shed earlier.  
Scully sat back on her heels with an expression of 
bewilderment.

"You mean with Charlie," she said after a moment.  
Mulder smiled and gave a little huff as he pulled the 
laces on one shoe loose.

"Yeah."

Scully got to her feet and scooped Wim up from the bed. 
"Are you coming down to the beach after that?" she 
asked.  "Mom and Tara are down there already..."

"Yeah -" Mulder glanced up at her, and stopped what he 
was doing.  He frowned, his eyes fixed somewhere near 
her chin.  "Come here," he said.

"What?" She stepped toward him. He had one hand on her 
elbow, pulling her closer, still scowling at the area 
just below her mouth.  "What?" she asked, swiping at her 
chin with the back of her hand.  "Do I have -"

"You've got something there..." his said, reaching for 
her chin with his other hand.  It slipped along her jaw 
and behind her head and pulled her mouth down to his.  
He kissed her gently, letting go of her as she hummed 
softly.  He gave her a cocky, dreamy smile.  "Got it," 
he said.

She straightened up slowly, hitching Wim up in her arms, 
and Mulder noticed with a self-satisfied smile the blush 
he had brought to her cheeks.  She narrowed her eyes at 
him provocatively.

"Not yet, you haven't," she said, her voice low.  She 
tilted her head to the side.  "I think my brother is 
some kind of influence on you."

"*Some kind* of influence?" Mulder asked. "Is that a 
good thing or a bad thing?"

She raised an eyebrow at him, grabbed Wim's diaper bag 
from the changing table and moved toward the door 
without answering his question.

~

The driveway to 'Perfect Harmony' was nothing more than 
a clean, almost perfectly smooth slab of white-gray 
concrete, two car-widths wide and about forty feet long 
from the road to right up under the house. A nice-sized 
hoop and backboard had been attached to the top of one 
of the stilts beneath the house.  Mulder saw that 
Charlie had pulled Bill and Tara's minivan next to 
Maggie's Chrysler under the house, and that the other 
two cars had been backed onto the scrubby ground in 
front of the house, clearing the area beneath the net.  
The driveway was pitched slightly toward the street, but 
otherwise looked like the perfect playing surface.  
Charlie was standing in the center of their improvised 
half-court when Mulder came down, dribbling the ball 
lazily from hand to hand.

"It's a little close, but I figure we can clear to 
here," Charlie said, his toe tapping the rubber 
stripping that separated the driveway into two slabs.  
Mulder nodded, estimating the distance between the goal 
and the clear-line at slightly over fifteen feet.  It 
would be a little tight, but with just the two of them, 
he didn't think it would matter.

"Clear on all shots?" he asked.

Charlie nodded and bounce-passed the ball to him.  "Make 
it and take it.  One point a basket."

Mulder dribbled once, twice, testing out the feel of the 
new ball.  He splayed his fingers across the nubbly 
surface, palming the ball briefly before sending it up 
for a shot.  The ball hit the box on the backboard and 
fell into the net.  "What are we playing to?"

Charlie jogged up for the rebound, and made an 
effortless lay-up, catching it and bringing it back to 
the clear-line.  He blinked and gave Mulder a silly 
grin.  "This one goes to eleven."

The game was on.  Charlie tipped the ball into the air 
and Mulder grabbed it easily, spinning quickly and 
cutting toward the line.  He dribbled twice, pivoting 
away from the arm Charlie swung out in front of him, and 
took a shot.  It bounced off the rim and Charlie plucked 
it out of the air, dribbling back to clear.  Mulder 
dodged forward, throwing his arms wide to obstruct 
Charlie's aim.

"Did you play in school?" Charlie asked, somewhat 
breathless as he switched back, avoiding Mulder's block.  
He stepped sideways, faking to the left, then ducked 
right and shot.

The ball hit the edge of the backboard and bounced 
almost directly into Mulder's hands.  He took it around 
to the back of the court, dribbling slowly along the 
clear-line as Charlie circled inside.  "In high school," 
he said,  "but they're not much into basketball at 
Oxford," he said, waiting for Charlie to turn again.  
"Or the rest Britain for that matter -"

Charlie turned and Mulder cut past him, dribbling toward 
the post and going for a lay-up.  Charlie was quicker 
than he'd counted on, however, and arrived under the net 
in time to block the shot and grab the ball.  He laughed 
in good-natured triumph as he dribbled back.

"That's right," he said, smiling.  "I forgot you were 
abroad -"

He pivoted quickly and shot from the clear-line.  Mulder 
watched the ball as it described a graceful arc toward 
the goal and swished through the hoop.  Charlie grinned 
and pumped his arm as Mulder stepped forward to grab the 
ball.

"Woo-*hoo*! Baby!"

Both men paused and looked up to see Joy on the deck 
just above them - the one attached to Bill and Tara's 
room.  She shimmied gleefully, arms raised.  Just behind 
her, Scully was standing, holding Wim.  She offered 
Mulder a look of exaggerated sympathy.

"Awesome," Charlie grinned, glancing at Mulder.  "We've 
got cheerleaders."

Mulder squinted up at Scully, unsure he wanted her - or 
their son - to witness what could very well turn into an 
ass-whooping extreme.  There was no telling how the game 
would go at this point, of course; Mulder had always 
been a good player, and had been joining in pick-up 
games at the gym during the last couple of months, but 
his stamina was nowhere near what it had been. And 
Charlie was *fast*.  He had at least six years on Mulder 
- never mind the fact that he had actually been *alive* 
for all of last year.  Mulder huffed.  That was almost 
funny.  Glancing up again, he gave Scully a smile that 
was more a grimace.  

"I thought you were going to the beach," he called up. 

"This looked like more fun," she replied, shading her 
eyes to wink down at him.  He took a deep breath, 
nodding minutely, then bounced the basketball to her 
brother.

"Your ball," he said.

Charlie smirked and dribbled back to the line.  "One, 
nothing."

~

Scully bounced gently, swaying Wim from side to side as 
she and Joy watched the game continue below.  Joy let 
out a half-sigh and sank onto the chaise behind her.  
She turned to give Scully a quick grin over her 
shoulder.

"Why are guys so damn *hot* when they're playing around 
like that...?" she mused, leaning forward to watch 
through the railing. She sighed again, ending on a soft 
laugh.

Scully smiled.  Because of biology, she thought to 
herself; because every game is just a throwback to basic 
animal behavior, a part of the drive in every male to 
demonstrate his prowess, the desire in every female for 
the perfect mate.  She laughed and smoothed her cheek 
against Wim's warm head, pressing her lips to him 
gently.  "It's a mating ritual, isn't it," she murmured.  
Joy turned to look at her, eyebrows raised.

"A lot of that going around today," she remarked with a 
grin. 

Scully smiled and lowered her head, refusing to blush 
again.  Between Charlie's teasing and Mulder's unabashed 
innuendo, she'd been scarlet through most of breakfast.  
She came around the end of Joy's chaise and perched 
lightly on the end.  Below them, Mulder and Charlie were 
jostling shoulder to shoulder as Charlie did his best to 
block Mulder's shot on the basket.  Mulder let fly, and 
scored off of the backboard.

"Uh-oh, baby!" Joy called down.  "He's comin' to get 
you!"

Charlie glanced up with a grin as he followed Mulder 
back to the line, sweeping his hair out of his face with 
an impatient gesture.  Joy snorted.

"He's like a sheepdog with that hair," she said shaking 
her head.  Scully noticed that she was smiling 
affectionately.  "It's a wonder he doesn't walk into 
walls."

Scully watched her quietly, marveling at the other 
woman's sense of poise and self-assurance.  She seemed 
fearless.  It was no mean feat to step up to Clan Scully 
without flinching - Scully had felt more than one twinge 
of concern for Mulder's ability to cope amid the 
swirling personalities and rivalries that defined her 
extended family.  God knows she'd avoided it more often 
than not over the past several years, and Mulder had 
very little experience dealing with families, especially 
one as large as hers.  Only her own confidence in 
Mulder's personal charm - and stores of patience - had 
put her at ease over it, and even then, she would 
*never* have thrown him into circumstances like these.

A week with her mother, indeed.  

Scully took a deep breath and regarded Joy with a new 
eye, knowing that her younger brother must think highly 
of this exotic woman to have let her in for a week with 
all of them.  

"You and Charlie must be fairly serious," she said, 
glancing sidelong at Joy.  Joy turned and looked at her 
with an expression of bewilderment, her delicate brows 
drawn together slightly.

"What makes you say that?" she asked.

Scully paused, taking a little breath.  She hadn't 
really given any thought to Joy's reaction, but this 
wasn't the response she might have expected.  "Well," 
she began, unsure now of the direction she had chosen.  
"I mean, for him to bring you all the way out here, to 
meet the whole family -"  She stopped. She sounded like 
her mother.  Or worse, *like Tara -*  "It's not easy to 
be thrown into a family situation like this," she 
finished lamely.  Joy laughed.

"Ohh," she said, shaking her head ruefully.  "I'm an old 
hand at strange family situations, believe me.  Compared 
to some of the things I've seen, you all are like 
something from TV-Land.  You're the Bradys."

Joy had turned her attention over the railing, watching 
as Charlie made another basket from the back line, and 
Scully had the distinct feeling that the subject was 
being avoided, if not dropped altogether.  Joy clapped 
her hands and whooped.  "That's it - keep it up -!"

"Don't cheer too loudly up there, Scully -!" Mulder 
shouted from below.  Scully leaned forward carefully and 
looked down through the deck railing.  Mulder was 
squinting up at her, looking sweaty and winded.  He 
pulled the edge of his tee-shirt up and wiped his face 
with it.  "I mean, don't strain your voice or anything -
"

Scully grinned and sat back, taking Wim's fists in her 
hands and raising his arms. "Woooo!" she called down, 
cheering for both of them. She danced Wim on her lap.  
"*Go defense -!*"

Mulder smiled up at them.  "That's a little more like 
it."

"You gonna play or mug for the crowd?" Charlie taunted.  
Mulder narrowed his eyes at him.

"Bring it, then," he sneered.

The game resumed, and Scully turned to look at Joy, 
returning to her former train of thought.  Something 
about the way Joy had answered her question - or avoided 
it - caught her attention, but she couldn't put her 
finger on it.  She frowned.  Joy glanced at her, and 
seemed to read her mind.  She gave Scully an 
understanding smile.

"Charlie and I like to keep things loosely defined," she 
said, her tone languid and explanatory. "You know."

Scully arched one brow.  "I don't think I do," she said.

"Well," Joy said.  She drew her hair back over her 
shoulders, flipping it into a single twist at the back 
of her neck.  "You and Mulder.  No one seems to know 
what to think about your situation..."

Joy let this hang for a moment, perhaps waiting for 
Scully to supply some kind of answer to the unasked 
question.  Scully remained silent and kept her eyes on 
Wim, who was holding onto her fingers, bouncing her 
hands up and down. 

"But neither of you seems to have a problem with that.  
You seem to have kept things fairly open between you," 
Joy went on.  She turned on the chaise to face Scully, 
bringing her legs up and tucking her feet under her.  "I 
think that's a good thing.  I think it speaks to the 
respect you have for one another, how well you know one 
another."  

Scully looked up and met Joy's eyes.  Joy was watching 
her with interest.

"That's an amazing thing," she continued, "to know 
someone that well."

Scully blinked and looked down, studying the fine copper 
hairs on Wim's head, thinking about how well she and 
Mulder purportedly knew one another.  She knew him 
better than *he* did, at times - better even than she 
knew herself.  And then there where times when she felt 
she didn't know him at all.

It wasn't something she could explain.  It was a 
knowledge that ran so deep, felt so instinctual - there 
was no tracing it's beginning.  It seemed for all the 
world that it had always been there: the unspoken 
understanding, the unconditional respect, the 
synchronicity of purpose - even when their ideas 
diverged.  She supposed that there was, in fact, 
something amazing in that.

Scully turned to see Joy looking past her toward the 
door into Bill and Tara's room, and inexplicably, the 
air around them seemed to change.

"Hey there, ladies."

Bill was standing in the doorway, ruffling his wet hair 
with a towel.  He put on a too-bright smile when his 
sister turned her gaze on him.  "What's going on?"

"Basketball," Scully said after a beat. 

"We're the cheering section," Joy told him.

Bill slid the door aside and stepped out to peer over 
the side of the deck.  Mulder had just successfully 
blocked Charlie's latest attempt on goal, and Charlie 
shouted his frustration with a colorful epithet.  Bill 
stepped up to the railing.

"Watch yer mouth there, sailor -!" he called down with a 
grin. 

Both Mulder and Charlie turned mid-motion to look up at 
the new voice, and the ball rolled out of Charlie's 
hands.  He yelled in exaggerated dismay as he chased it 
onto the sand.

"Arghhh! See what you made me do -??"

Bill stood next to the railing, looking down with an 
unreadable expression.  Joy was watching him closely.

"Why don't you go down and play?" she asked.  Bill 
looked at her with surprise.  He seemed to consider it 
for a moment, a strange tension vibrating off him.

"Nahhh," he said, stepping back from the rail.  "I just 
came up to make some sandwiches -"

Charlie had heard Joy's suggestion. "Hey, Billy boy!" he 
shouted. "You make an ugly cheerleader - and this guy 
could use a little help before I beat his sorry 
*aaaaass* -"

Scully saw the brief look of apprehension that crossed 
her brother's face.  Bill shook his head.  "Nah," he 
said again. "I'm just -"

"Come on down," Mulder shouted up.  Scully looked down 
at him in surprise, and he returned her stare with his 
brows raised.  He gave her a tight-lipped smile.  "We'll 
play two-on-one and show Kobe here how to lose with 
style," he called.

Bill hesitated, glancing back over the rail at the men 
below, then up at his sister.  Scully raised her 
eyebrows hopefully, giving him the same smile Mulder had 
just given her.  "Go on," she said.

Bill took a deep breath, considering, looking from his 
sister, to Joy.  "All right," he said.  He stepped back 
to the rail and looked over. "All right," he said again, 
louder. "I'll be down in a minute."

Charlie let out an evil cackle, and pointed one menacing 
finger in Mulder's direction. "Now I get to kick *both* 
your asses...!"

~

Bill appeared on the front steps a few minutes later 
wearing dry shorts and a crisp looking pair of track 
shoes.  Charlie noticed the footwear immediately.

"New sneaks, bro?" he chuckled, dribbling around the 
perimeter of the driveway.  Bill looked down at his new 
shoes and smiled.

"Yeah," he said.  He put his hands on his hips and 
glanced between them warily.  "How're we playing here?"

"You two fogies against my devastating game," Charlie 
said, his voice lazy and boastful.  "One point a basket, 
to eleven."  He glanced at Mulder.  "We'll start over, 
okay?"

Mulder nodded.  "Sure," he said with uncertainty.  
Charlie was already four up on him anyway.

"Call your own fouls," Charlie went on, lining up for a 
jump-shot from the back line.  He threw the ball with a 
flick of his wrist. "Marquess of Queensbury rules -"

The ball thudded off the backboard and swished through 
the net. 

Bill caught it and passed it back to his brother.  
"Marquess of Queensbury?" he asked.  He glanced at 
Mulder who shared his look of confusion.

"Isn't that boxing -?"

Charlie's eyes took on a wild glint and he waggled his 
eyebrows at them.  "Shall we play?"

He tipped the ball up, and again Mulder took quick 
possession, peeling back toward the line.  Charlie ran 
up to block his return - *damn* he was quick - and 
Mulder crouched, faking left, then passing high and 
right to Bill, who was waiting under the basket.  Bill 
caught the ball and made a perfect lay-up, grabbing the 
ball back as it fell through the hoop.

"Winner's outs, right?" he asked, dribbling the ball 
slowly.  Mulder and Charlie both nodded that it was, and 
they circled, Bill dribbling slowly back toward the 
clear-line as Mulder did his best to screen Charlie.  
But Mulder had set the pick too early, and by the time 
Bill came past to clear, Charlie had dodged around 
Mulder, and swiped the ball from Bill mid-dribble.  He 
ran it down and performed his own lay-up.  He was 
laughing as he came back down.

"Here -" he chest-passed the ball back to Bill, who 
frowned as he caught it.  "Maybe we should switch to 
loser's outs," Charlie said, laughing. "Just to make it 
fair..."

Bill threw the ball back to his brother.  "Don't go 
changing the rules now, Charles," he said.  "Game's 
already started -"

"Suit yourself," Charlie said, going up for another 
jump-shot.  The ball skittered against the rim and 
dropped in.  "Yea-eah!" Charlie crowed, running up to 
catch the ball.  He looked up toward the deck. "Hey 
ladies! Are you watching this -?"

"You get'em, baby," Joy called down.  Mulder could hear 
Scully's low laughter.

Bill moved up behind his brother while Charlie wasn't 
looking, and knocked the ball from his hands.  Mulder 
ran up to post, laughing at Charlie's expression of 
surprise, and raising his hand for the pass.  Bill threw 
the ball and Mulder caught it, swinging around backward 
to avoid Charlie's belated block.  Crouching low with 
his back to the hoop, he waited for a break in Charlie's 
defense.  Faking to the right with his shoulder once, 
twice, he caught Charlie off balance - a *fake* fake - 
and broke that way, rolling around Charlie and taking 
the ball up to the basket.  He tipped it over the rim 
with his fingers.

Bill applauded smugly from the corner, and Charlie hung 
his head, shaking it in despair.  Mulder clapped his 
shoulder as he passed with the ball.

"Two up," he said, with a wink.  He passed the ball to 
Bill.  "Our ball."

~

Scully sat on the end of the chaise with Wim in her lap, 
listening to the various sounds of the game going on 
below - the grunts and laughter of the three men, the 
shuffle and squeak of their soles on the smooth 
concrete, the echo-y spank of the ball as they dribbled 
it up and down the driveway.  Joy had gotten up and was 
standing over the railing, leaning forward on her elbows 
to shout encouragement to Charlie, and giving Mulder and 
Bill good-natured trash-talk.

"C'mon you guys - pick it up!" she yelled down. "This is 
basketball - not shuffle-board!"

Scully watched her, bemused.  She found her opinion of 
her brother's girlfriend shifting subtly with almost 
everything the other woman said, like a boat adrift at 
sea.  Where it would land was anybody's guess.  She 
liked Joy - her direct manner and good humor were hard 
to dislike  - but there was something about her that 
Scully couldn't quite figure out.  She propped Wim up on 
her lap and leaned back on one hand.  "How long have you 
and Charlie been together?" she asked.

"About six months," Joy said amiably, glancing back over 
her shoulder.

Scully did her best not to let her surprise register on 
her face.  Six months?  She would have guessed more than 
twice that time based on the way Joy and Charlie 
interacted. "And you live together?" she asked.

Joy turned away from the game and regarded Scully with a 
brief expression of frank curiosity, as though Scully's 
second question were a completely unexpected follow-up 
to the first.  Then she smiled.  "Essentially, yeah," 
she said.  "I'm at his place most of the time."

Scully nodded and looked back down at Wim, who was 
gurgling and gnawing on his fist.  She could feel Joy 
watching her.

"You and Mulder don't share a place, do you?"

Despite the interrogative upswing at the end of Joy's 
sentence, Scully knew it wasn't a question.  Her mother 
had been talking to *someone*, she thought, glancing 
down at her younger brother.  Scully tightened her jaw 
and looked up.

"No," she said.  "We keep separate apartments."

Joy narrowed her eyes, a combination of appreciation and 
wonder crossing her face.  "That's good," she said, 
causing Scully no small amount of surprise.  Joy saw it 
and laughed as she went on.  "I think it's good!" she 
said. "I really do.  I think it's great that you've 
maintained your identities, your freedom.  That's great.  
I mean, why force yourselves into an uncomfortable 
situation, just because you have a kid."

Scully found she had no response to that, her brows 
mingling with her hairline as she laughed, thinking: *Is 
that what we've done?*

~

Mulder caught Bill's pass and ran up toward the basket, 
glancing over his shoulder to determine which of the 
Scully brothers was crowding so close on his heels.  It 
was Charlie, dashing forward to defend the net, so hell-
bent on preventing Mulder's next shot that he nearly 
tripped them both up with it.  Mulder cut quickly to the 
left and stopped short, looking for Bill and sending 
Charlie careening toward the base of the house.

"Ball -!" Bill called from the right.  Mulder turned, 
saw, passed - then tried to catch his breath as Bill 
took the ball up for a jump-shot.  The level of play had 
been turned up two or three-fold since Bill had joined 
the game, thanks entirely to the fierce sense of 
competition going on between Bill and Charlie.  Mulder 
had felt the mood begin to shift almost immediately, 
with the demands on his abilities and stamina following 
right behind.  They were all drenched - Charlie and 
Mulder had both peeled their shirts off, letting them 
fall in sodden lumps on the sand beside the driveway - 
and Mulder was seriously out of breath.  Moving forward 
to catch the rebound, he paused to the wipe the sweat 
out of his eyes, and missed the result of Bill's shot.

He watched as both Charlie and Bill cut back, the ball 
having bounced back toward the line.  Already outside, 
Charlie was closer, and before either Mulder or Bill 
could follow, Charlie had grabbed the ball and run to 
the clear-line.  He shot the ball.  All three men 
stopped to watch it sail through the hoop.

"Yesss!" Charlie cried, arms raised in triumph as he ran 
to retrieve the ball.  "Nothin' but net!"

"Too bad it doesn't count," Bill said, pulling his shirt 
up to mop his face.  Charlie turned and gave him a look 
of pure incredulity.

"*What*?" he cried. He pushed the damp hair off his 
forehead, the better to scowl at his brother.  "Are you 
high?  Of course it counts -"

"It wasn't your ball," Bill said, stepping forward to 
take the ball from his brother.  "We still had 
possession -"

Charlie pivoted, holding the ball away from his 
brother's outstretched hands.  "What are you talking 
about?  You totally missed that last shot -!"

"I made the shot," Bill said definitively.  "It's still 
our ball -"

"You *missed* the shot!" Charlie said, laughing in 
disbelief of his brother's stubbornness.

"We won't count *either* shot," Mulder said wearily, too 
tired to try to figure out which of them was right.  
"Let's just start over from where we were -"

Charlie turned his incredulous look on Mulder.  "But he 
*missed* the fucking shot!"

"Play nice down there!" came Joy's voice from above.  
Charlie glanced up briefly and then brought his eyes 
back to Mulder's, blinking in consternation and shaking 
his head minutely - another look that reminded Mulder 
instantly of Scully.  Charlie bounced the ball at him.  
"Fine," he said, raking the hair from his forehead 
again.  "Whatever."

"Maybe if you didn't have all that hair in your face all 
the time you'd know what the play was," Bill said with a 
laugh.

"Maybe if you didn't fucking *cheat* -"

Mulder let out a heavy sigh.  "*Guys* -"

"Don't make me come down there, boys," Joy called down. 
"I'll kick *all* your asses."

Charlie made a face, rolling his eyes dramatically, and 
Bill and Mulder had to laugh.  Charlie shook his head 
and joined with them.

"Okay okay okay," he said.  He glanced between Mulder 
and his brother.  "It's your ball.  Let's just play."

Mulder passed the ball to Bill, who dribbled it to the 
clear-line as Mulder and Charlie took their positions 
mid-court.  "What's the score?" he asked.

"Six-six," Mulder said.

"Six-*seven*," Charlie corrected.

Bill held the ball and opened his mouth to protest, but 
Mulder held up a staying hand.

"Just let him -"

"Fine."  Bill shook his head impatiently and began to 
dribble again.  He looked at his brother with barely 
disguised exasperation.  "As if it even matters, 
Charles."

Charlie straightened to his full height and squared his 
shoulders.  "It does matter, *William* -"

Bill's exasperation was full-fledged now.  "It's only a 
*game*."

"Well then let's make it interesting, shall we?" Charlie 
said.  Mulder held his breath and watched as the 
brothers squinted at each other.

"What?" Bill asked, his interest piqued.  "You mean a 
bet?  You want to make a bet - or no no - you want to 
*lose* a bet?"

Charlie chuckled indignantly.  "And who's winning now, 
brother-mine?"

Bill huffed and turned his head to look at Mulder, a 
look that said 'can you believe this shit?'  Mulder felt 
a strange sensation of un-reality, like a splash of cold 
water; who would ever have imagined he'd be playing on 
the same side as Big Brother Bill?

Bill looked back at Charlie and lifted his chin in 
challenge.  "All right then," he said.  "What'll it be?"

Charlie grinned, his eyes narrowing as he considered.  
"Okay," he said after a few moments contemplation.  
"Losers have to wear a thong bikini on the beach for the 
rest of the week."

Both Mulder and Bill tossed their heads, groaning, and 
there was a burst of laughter from the ladies above. 
"That's just *mean*, Charlie," Joy said.

Charlie laughed and went on.  "*All* week," he said 
again.  "And you've gotta buy it in town.  The 
brightest, most obnoxious, *smallest* thong you can find 
-"

"Come on, Charlie," Mulder laughed nervously.  "What 
kind of bet is that?"

"This isn't high school," Bill said.  He tucked the ball 
under his arm and reached into his back pocket for his 
wallet.  "Come on.  You want a bet," he said.  "How 
much?"

Charlie was shaking his head.  "Oh no - I don't want 
your money.  I don't give a shit about your money."

"What you mean is you don't *have* any money for your 
part of the stake," Bill said.  Mulder laughed, and 
Charlie smiled sheepishly.

"Well that too," he admitted.  "But no - I said let's 
make it *interesting*.  I'm not interested in money."

"What then?" Mulder asked.  He was getting curious to 
see how far the brothers would go with this, choosing 
not to think - for the present - about the fact that he 
had somehow gotten mixed up in their rivalry.  He smiled 
at Charlie, one eyebrow raised.  "What do you want?"

Charlie grinned broadly at both of them.  "Nothing less 
than your abject humiliation," he said.

Mulder dropped his chin to his chest and laughed.  
Beside him, Bill was nodding slowly, his mouth drawn up, 
his eyes narrowed speculatively at his brother. 

"All right," he said.  

Mulder looked up sharply.  "What -?"

Bill and Charlie were grinning at one another - 
malicious grins that Mulder could barely see beyond 
visions of Bill and himself, decked out in matching 
thongs, asses bared for the amusement of the entire 
beach.  He felt another surge of cold un-reality.  *How 
had this happened?*

Bill was holding up one finger, looking at his brother 
with keen interest.  "*But*," he said, pausing 
dramatically.  Charlie and Mulder waited for him to 
continue.  "If *we* win -"

Bill stopped again and pointed his finger at Charlie's 
head.  Charlie looked at the finger and then at Bill 
himself, confused.  Then he glanced at Mulder, who 
shrugged.

"The hair," Bill said, grinning smugly.  Charlie leaned 
forward slightly, cocking his head at his brother as if 
he hadn't quite heard.  Then a look of understanding 
dawned on his face, followed quickly by a look of amused 
disbelief.

"You really can't stand my hair, can you," he said, 
smiling incredulously.  "You want me to cut my hair if I 
lose.  Is that it?"

"I suppose that would be abject enough, yeah," Bill 
said, grinning.  Charlie snorted derisively.

"Hey, it'll be worth it just to see your ass in neon 
green lycra," he said.  "You're on."  

He and Bill shook hands, and Charlie turned to look at 
Mulder.  Mulder took the hand he extended, shaking his 
head and laughing resignedly as he and Charlie shook to 
seal the deal.

"Hey," Charlie said, giving him a sly wink.  "Don't 
worry - I bet your ass will look really cute in butt 
floss."

~

The door into Bill and Tara's room slid open again, and 
Tara stepped onto the deck, shading her eyes from the 
sun.  "Hey!" she said, smiling at Scully and Joy.  "I 
see bare-chested men! What's going on down there?"

Joy and Scully both looked up.  "Charlie challenged 
Mulder and Bill to a basketball game," Joy told her.

"Uh-oh," Tara said, her eyes going wide with exaggerated 
alarm.  She stepped around Scully to take a seat on the 
chaise.  "So that's what happened to our sandwiches.  
Who's winning?"

"It's hard to tell," Scully said.

"They've been arguing over every point," Joy added.

Tara's alarm took on a more genuine look.  "Uh-oh," she 
said again.

No one said anything else right away as they all watched 
the men below.  Bill had the ball in the far back 
corner, with Mulder crouched low, arms wide as he set a 
screen on Charlie.  The three of them came together 
briefly, Bill cutting close past the other two, while 
Charlie pressed hard against Mulder's back.  Mulder spun 
away toward the post, while Charlie followed Bill toward 
the basket.  Mulder raised his hand as he ran, calling 
for the ball, and Bill turned just as Charlie ran up to 
block.  Bill stepped into his brother and wedged his 
elbow out sharply, managing to throw Charlie off 
balance.  Then he passed to Mulder, who made a jump-shot 
as Charlie staggered and landed hard on his ass.

"Ooh - Charlie -!" Joy cried.

"Are you all right?" Scully called down.  Charlie 
squinted up as Bill stepped forward, holding the ball on 
his hip with one hand and extending the other to help 
Charlie up.  Charlie scowled at his brother briefly 
before accepting the hand.

"Better watch the elbows, Bill," he said.

"You can't goal-tend like that," Bill told him, wiping 
his arm over his forehead.

Next to Scully, Tara let out a sigh.  "They *always* get 
like this," she said below her breath.  Scully grimaced 
ruefully, thinking of other ball-hoops suspended over 
other driveways.  The base house at Miramar had had a 
hoop, she remembered.  Bill had bent it almost 
completely off one time, proving to Charlie that he 
could dunk.  Scully echoed her sister-in-law's sigh and 
shifted Wim in her lap.

"They always have," she said.

~

This was it.  The score was ten-ten; whoever made the 
next basket won the game, and based on that, either 
Charlie's red bandana, or Bill's and Mulder's modest 
swim-trunks would quickly be made obsolete.  The three 
of them circled around one another on the driveway, 
breathless and dripping with sweat, their movements made 
sluggish by the growing heat of the day.  The sun had 
swung around on its way westward, and was high over the 
house now.  The house's shadow, which had kept the 
driveway dim and cool before, had receded, exposing the 
white-concrete to the late-morning sun.  The glare was 
nearly blinding, rising up around their shins in 
rippling waves of reflected heat.  

Mulder pulled his hands through his wet hair and shook 
his shoulders out.  The sheen of sweat on his skin mixed 
with the salt in the air, making him itch, and he could 
feel an uncomfortable tug in the tendons around his left 
knee.  He would feel this later on tonight, he knew.  It 
had been years since he'd played this hard.

"Come on, Bill - are you just gonna dribble -?" Charlie 
said.  He stood casually at center-court, hands on hips, 
but Mulder could see that his breathing was as labored 
as theirs.  Bill was pacing the perimeter, dribbling 
slowly.  His face was flushed a deep red, drips of sweat 
wobbling on the ends of his nose and chin.  He took a 
deep breath through his mouth and glanced at Mulder.  
Mulder held his hands up for the pass.

Bill pushed the ball toward him, a chest-pass - but no!  
With more speed then Mulder would have thought him 
capable of at this point, Bill pulled the ball back and 
cut to the right, dribbling toward the basket.  Charlie 
and Mulder responded at the same time, rushing the 
basket shoulder to shoulder.  Bill was standing at the 
low-post, setting up for a jump-shot when Charlie 
lunged, batting the ball back, away from the hoop.  The 
ball sailed back, and Mulder scrambled after it while 
Charlie continued forward, the momentum of his leap 
throwing him into his brother's chest.  Down-court, 
Mulder caught the ball before it bounced, spun and 
brought the ball up - perfect - and it flew - perfect, 
perfect - 

It hit the backboard and fell through the net.

Charlie and Bill were sprawled, a tangle of limbs just 
below the net.  Charlie laughed breathlessly and heaved 
himself up, holding his hand out toward his brother, 
whom he had knocked back, nearly off onto the sand.  
Bill grabbed his brother's hand and let Charlie pull him 
up, and immediately stepped forward to give Charlie's 
chest a vicious shove.

"Bill! What the fuck, man -?"  Charlie cried.  Bill took 
another aggressive step forward, and Charlie stepped up 
to meet him.  Mulder moved toward them tentatively, his 
hands raised.

"Come on, guys -"

"Your hot-shot moves could get someone hurt," Bill 
growled at Charlie, twitching forward again.  Charlie 
laughed at him.

"Give me a fucking break," he said. "It was an accident!  
You shouldn't fucking play if you're afraid to get a 
little roughed up -"

Bill stepped in and shoved him again, harder this time, 
knocking Charlie away.  Charlie's arms windmilled 
briefly as he staggered back, a look of surprise and 
malice flashing across his face.  Mulder stepped between 
them as Charlie came back at his brother.  He put a hand 
on Bill's shoulder and blocked Charlie's advance with 
his forearm.  "Come on," he said.  "That's enough -"

"What's going on down there?"

Mulder looked up to see Tara holding Wim, peering over 
the railing above them.  None of them answered.  Charlie 
and Bill were still staring at each other menacingly, 
but had eased off somewhat.  Mulder put his arms down, 
glancing between them.  "Let's go in and get some 
water."

Charlie huffed and stepped away, glaring at Bill over 
his shoulder as he stooped to pick up the ball.  "Such a 
fucking drama queen..." he muttered.  Bill jerked 
forward, and Mulder lay his hand back on his arm.  Bill 
shrugged it off impatiently.

"*Me*?" he asked.  "You better watch -"

"You always have to make a big deal of everything," 
Charlie said, turning to face his brother.  "Why didn't 
you just call the foul?  Noooo - you have to make a huge 
production of it -"

"Like the production you're making now?" Bill sneered.  
"You just can't stand losing -"

"Oh, like that was such a hard win - two against one -"

Bill cocked his head threateningly. "*You* set the 
rules."

Mulder bowed his head, bringing his hand up to rub the 
back of his neck. "Come on, guys."  He was too tired for 
this shit.

"No," Charlie said, "No - I'm sick of him having to 
control everything all the time - turning everything 
into this huge fucking circus so he can play ring-leader 
-"

"Charlie -" Joy warned from above.  Charlie put a hand 
up in the direction of the deck.

"Just stay out of this," he said, without looking up.  
He stepped toward his brother, his eyes narrowed.  
"You'd better chill-out -"

"Oh *I'd* better chill out?" Bill laughed derisively as 
Charlie drew closer.  Mulder watched, his muscles 
tensing in anticipation of what now seemed the 
inevitable.  He held his hands clenched loosely at his 
sides.

"Yeah - you'd better *chill out*," Charlie snarled, 
spitting each word out like venom.  "'Cause you're 
ruining the week for everyone."

Mulder held his breath and could only watch as the next 
three seconds happened in slow motion: Charlie's hands 
came up, poised to return the shove Bill had given him 
before, but Bill brought his own hand up, blocking 
Charlie's blow.  He grabbed the side of Charlie's head 
and pushed - Charlie came up swinging, his fist aimed 
for his brother's jaw, and Bill threw both his arms up 
to avoid the strike -

There was a flash of red and a quick cry-sob-gasp --

~

Motion halted, and time returned to normal speed.  
Mulder moved forward, blocking Scully and sliding a 
protective arm around her shoulders before any of them 
really understood what had just happened.

"Oh my God - Dana, I'm sorry," Bill said with remorse.  
"I didn't see you-"

"Shit - Dane -?" Charlie was saying at the same time.  
"What the hell happened?"

Scully was standing with her head bowed, holding one 
hand against her eye, where Bill's elbow had jabbed her 
as he defended himself from Charlie's blow.  There 
didn't appear to be any blood, but Mulder tipped her 
head up slightly to make sure.

"Is she okay?" Joy called down from above.

"I got it," he replied, steering Scully toward the 
stairs leading up to the house without giving Bill or 
Charlie a second look.  

"I can't believe this..." Scully was muttering.  Inside, 
he led her into the kitchen area, located a ziplock bag, 
filled it with ice, and handed it to her as she leaned 
against the island, facing him.

Scully held the bag of ice against her eye, her other 
eye flashing in anger as Mulder tried to pull her hand 
back to get a good look at the damage. 

"This always happens," she was saying.  "He knows how 
controlling Bill is, and yet he lets him get under his 
skin faster than - ow!"

She jerked her head back, looking up into Mulder's face 
with annoyance.  He had tucked his hand up under her 
chin, carefully turning her face up.  Then he gently 
took the bag of ice from her, and was gazing down at her 
with a patient expression of empathy.

"Sorry," he said, leaning down closer, wincing as he 
brought two fingers up near her eye, careful not to 
touch.  "It's already starting to swell."

"Shit," she muttered under her breath, laying her palm 
down on the counter behind her and bowing her head.  
"This is just great."

He continued to look at her face with a compassionate 
expression.  "So you're used to getting blindsided when 
your brothers get into an argument?"

She raised her face and looked up at him with her lips 
pursed, still annoyed.  "No.  I wasn't talking about 
myself.  I meant Charlie."

"He's got some anger built up, that's for sure," Mulder 
commented quietly, taking her hand and placing the bag 
of ice back into it.  "I never thought I'd be defending 
your older brother, but Charlie seems to be taking it 
out on Bill."  He paused, straightening.  "Do you want 
something for the pain?  Tylenol?  Advil?"

She shook her head, wincing as she did so, which caused 
her to emit a small moan of pain.  She raised the ice 
back up to her eye, her other eye searching Mulder's 
face.

He pressed his lips together into a tight line, his brow 
furrowed, and turned to pull a glass down from the 
cabinet, filling it with water from the tap.  "You don't 
have to be so tough, Scully," he admonished softly, 
handing her the glass.  She accepted it, giving him a 
slightly apologetic look as she took a drink.  "Jesus," 
he whispered. "I hate it when anything happens to you."

She put the glass down on the counter and sighed, all of 
her earlier anger dissipated.  "I'm fine, Mulder.  You 
and I have both been through worse than this."

He reached out and laid his wrist on her shoulder, 
brushing his thumb along her jaw line and leaning 
closer, his voice softer.  "I know.  That doesn't make 
it any easier."

She closed her eyes, tilting her head toward his touch 
as he continued to stroke her face.  "No, it doesn't."

Mulder stroked her hair down on the back of her head, 
releasing a heavy sigh.  She looked up, holding his 
gaze.  There was no way they could avoid situations like 
these, intentional or accidental.  It was just something 
they had to live with.  That didn't mean they ever got 
used to it.  When he finally raised his head, he 
realized Bill was standing in the living room, watching 
them.  He met Bill's look over the top of Scully's head, 
and Mulder realized that there was an absence of the 
usual pity or disdain that Bill usually displayed in his 
presence.

"Is she okay?" Bill asked.

Mulder looked down at Scully, and they exchanged a brief 
look.  He nodded, and she turned to face her brother.

"I'm okay," she replied honestly.  She looked at him a 
moment, then realized he was alone.  "Where's Charlie?" 
she asked in a low voice.

Bill stepped toward them.  "He feels as bad about this 
as I do.  He's still outside - Joy had a few things to 
say to him."  He tilted his head to the side, looking at 
her with worry.  "You sure you're okay?"

She looked down and let out a soft snort.  "Yeah."

Tara emerged from the bedroom with Wim, holding up a 
small white bottle.  "It took me a while to dig it out," 
she called from across the great room, "but I found some 
Motrin if you think it might help."  She crossed the 
room and handed the bottle to Scully with an expression 
of concern.  "Does it hurt bad?"

Scully looked back up at Mulder, and then at Bill before 
smiling gently at Tara and taking Wim into her arms.  "A 
little.  Thanks."

~

"...'Have a carrot,' said the mother bunny."

Maggie smiled, closing the book.  "Wasn't that a lovely 
story?" she asked Matthew.  It had been a favorite of 
hers when her own children were small, and reading it 
now brought back warm memories of tucking her own kids 
into bed, sweet-smelling from their baths, sleepily 
begging for her to read it just one more time. 

"Yeah!" Matthew replied gleefully.  "'nother one!"

"That's enough for tonight," Maggie replied firmly.  
"Two stories are more than enough.  Now slide under the 
covers."  She raised the bedspread and flat sheet, and 
Matthew picked up his feet and tucked them under, 
scooting down the bed.

"Gwanma, know what?" he said earnestly.

She pulled the covers up to his chin, smoothing them 
down and leaning forward, giving him all of her 
attention.  "What?"

"Auntie Dana got a boo-a."

"Auntie Dana *has* a sore eye, yes," she corrected.

"Uh huh," he nodded solemnly.  "Daddy's do it."

She paused.  She had come up from the beach with Matthew 
that afternoon to find Dana with an ice pack over her 
eye, and her sons skulking irritably around the house.  
Fox had carefully explained what happened without 
pointing fingers, but Bill had confessed to bumping into 
his sister while arguing with Charlie. 

"It was an accident, sweetie," Maggie told Matthew.  
"Your Daddy didn't mean to hurt Auntie Dana.  Now close 
your eyes and go to sleep."

Matthew closed his eyes, then opened them again, sitting 
up.

"Gwanma?"

"Yes?" she asked, standing patiently over the bed.

"Tomorrow I go to deh wighthows."

"Yes, sweetie.  We're all going to see the lighthouse 
tomorrow.  But first you've got to go to sleep.  
Goodnight now."

He lay back down, kicking his feet under the covers and 
folding his hands over his chest.  A moment later, he 
sat up again.

"Gwanma?"

She schooled her expression to appear patient but firm.  
"Yes, Matthew."

He held his arms out.  "Big hug."

Her resolve melted, and she stepped forward to wrap her 
arms around his small shoulders.  He held on tight, 
squeezing with a loud, "Uuuuhhh!"  She placed a kiss on 
his cheek, then tucked him under the covers one last 
time.

"I love you," she whispered.

"Yuv you too," he replied, snuggling back under the 
covers and closing his eyes.  She paused a moment, 
expecting to be stopped once more, but when he kept his 
eyes closed she snapped off the lamp beside the bed and 
slipped out the door, leaving it open a crack.

Bill and Tara had their bedroom door closed, and she 
sighed as she passed by on her way to the stairs.  It 
had been a very quiet afternoon after the ill-fated game 
on the driveway, and no one had had much to say during 
dinner.  Charlie and Joy had spent the evening together 
on the deck, and Bill and Tara had taken a long walk on 
the beach.  Fox stayed close to Dana, watching her 
carefully while they played Scrabble on the screened 
porch, the two of them talking only when necessary.  
She'd observed that they managed to say quite a bit 
without ever opening their mouths.

She slid her hand softly along the wall, quietly 
flicking off the hall lights as she passed.  She 
welcomed the darkness, a signal that night had come to 
smooth over the rough patches and hurts of the day, 
making ready for a fresh tomorrow.  She hoped it would 
be a better day than today.  Bill and Charlie seemed to 
have gotten over their earlier argument; the only 
reminder of it during the afternoon and evening had been 
the ever-darkening bruise below Dana's eye.  Dana 
herself had played it down, not wanting her brothers to 
feel guilty for the accidental injury, but Maggie had 
seen the glances, full of remorse, that Bill and Charlie 
had been throwing toward their sister and her blackened 
eye all night.  She had also seen the looks of 
smoldering animosity that had passed between the 
brothers.  The argument may have been stemmed for now, 
Maggie knew, but it had left a tension lingering in the 
air.

As well as she knew her children - knew their individual 
strengths and weaknesses, the fundamental differences in 
their personalities - it always broke her heart a little 
when they couldn't get along.  She had hoped this week 
together would bring the family closer; it hadn't 
occurred to her that it might push them farther apart.  
All of the kids had their own lives, and despite the odd 
email or phone-call, she knew they were rarely in touch 
if it were not through her.  Dana rarely talked to Bill 
or Charlie, and the boys weren't much better about 
staying in touch, even though they were both living out 
west.  She feared her own passing - feared that the 
family would disintegrate completely without her there 
to hold them together.

At the top of the stairs, she sighed again.  Charlie and 
Joy had their door closed, but there was a thin band of 
light shining between the door and the jam of Dana and 
Fox's room.  She tapped lightly on the door, opening it 
gently when Fox invited her in.

He was sitting up in bed reading, Dana curled on her 
side asleep behind him.  He gave her warm smile, and she 
smiled back, stealing a look toward William's crib.

"Out like a light," Fox commented, then glanced over at 
Dana.  "They both are."

"Did she take anything for the pain?"

Fox pushed his glasses up his nose, and smiled.  "Yeah, 
she finally gave in and took another couple of Motrin."

Maggie smiled again, and stepped over to the crib, 
caressing the baby's head.  What about her Dana, her 
baby girl, she thought.  She so wished that Dana and Fox 
would work out whatever problems were plaguing them.  
After so many years, so many hardships... Maggie let out 
a soft breath and bit her lip as her fingers stroked 
Wim's satiny cheek.  So precious -!  Having this baby 
had been a challenge, she knew.  Babies were not easy 
even given the best of circumstances.  But she knew also 
that this baby was the best thing that could have 
happened to her daughter, and, she suspected, to Fox.  
Dana kept much of it to herself, but Maggie knew without 
being told how hard her daughter's chosen career had 
been on her over the years.  With this baby she had no 
choice but to slow down.  She picked up her head and 
glanced back at her sleeping daughter, and the man 
beside her.  All about him was a sense of unconscious 
vigilance, a fond watchfulness Maggie recognized: the 
look of a father.  Maggie felt a warmth in her heart.  
Regardless what concerns Billy might have about his 
sister's relationship with her partner - or her own 
concerns, for that matter - Maggie thought Fox was ready 
to take on the responsibilities of raising a family.

"Well, I'm glad they're sleeping," she said softly. 
"We've a busy day planned tomorrow."

Fox nodded, waiting politely for her to finish her 
goodnights with his thumb holding his place in the 
middle of his book.  

"Well, pleasant dreams," she said, heading toward the 
door.

"You too, Mrs. Scully," he replied pleasantly.  "Would 
you mind closing it?" he asked as she pulled the door 
toward her.

She paused, then nodded, feeling the door latch catch 
behind her.

~

Scully awoke with a gasp, her heart pounding.  Mulder's 
hand brushed her cheek, and she turned toward his touch, 
blinking to adjust her vision to the darkness and trying 
to catch her breath.

"You okay?" he asked, rubbing the backs of his fingers 
over her cheekbone.  He was sitting up in bed with his 
back against the headboard, Wim in the crook of his arm 
nursing on a bottle.

She could hear the sound of the wind whistling through 
the sea oats outside, and inside the gentle sucking 
sound of the nipple on Wim's bottle as he nursed.  
Blinking again, she answered hoarsely, "Yeah."  She 
swallowed, and carefully sat up next to them against the 
headboard.  "How long has he been awake?"

"About ten minutes.  I had just turned out the light to 
go to sleep when he started complaining."

Reaching out to stroke Wim's soft bare foot, she 
whispered, "Hi sweetheart."  His eyes turned to her, 
focusing on her face as he finished off his formula.

"Hi mommy," Mulder whispered back, lifting Wim's little 
arm and waving it at her.  He pulled the empty bottle 
out of Wim's mouth and gently wiped the residual formula 
off of his wet lips with the corner of the burping 
cloth.  "There you go," he said. "Your belly's full now.  
How about letting loose with one of those big manly 
burps before you drift off to babyland?"  

Scully smiled and took the empty bottle from Mulder, 
carrying it into the bathroom and rinsing it out.  She 
placed it on top of the vanity.  Leaning down, she 
collected cool water from the faucet in her cupped hands 
and splashed it over her face, hoping to rinse the 
lingering fog of her nightmare away.  Grabbing a towel, 
she patted her face dry as she looked into the mirror 
above the basin.  

Her eye was slightly swollen, the purple bruise standing 
out against her pale skin.  She'd be living in 
sunglasses the rest of the week, she thought, and part 
of the next as well, until the bruise faded away.  With 
a sigh, she turned out the light and padded back into 
the bedroom.

Mulder was sitting on the edge of the bed, Wim hoisted 
up to his shoulder as he softly patted his diapered 
bottom.

"We've gotta find a way to keep mommy from having those 
nightmares, buddy boy," Mulder was whispering, 
emphasizing every syllable with a pat.

There was the sound of a door being opened and closed in 
the hallway, whispering and soft footsteps drifting past 
their bedroom door.  The location of the noise indicated 
Charlie and Joy, but a soft chuckle confirmed it.  They 
were going somewhere.  Scully crossed to the window and 
looked down, the deck's floodlight below allowing her to 
see the two of them step out the back door a moment 
later.  They didn't have their bags with them, they 
weren't dressed to go out.  In fact, they were barely 
dressed at all - and as they made their way down the 
wooden steps, Scully was just able to make out the shape 
of the Mexican blanket tucked under Charlie's arm before 
they disappeared into the darkness.  A ripple of soft 
laughter drifted up to her on the wind.

Scully chewed on her lip, staring out into the black 
night.  Charlie and Joy were so full of life, so full of 
passion.  She liked to think that she and Mulder had 
been a little like them, traveling the country on a 
moment's notice, investigating and trying to solve the 
Bureau's most unsolvable cases.  They had not been as 
carefree, perhaps, but they had certainly been 
passionate about their work.

Now they had Wim, and Mulder was unemployed.  She had 
taken advantage of the Family Leave Act to extend the 
maternity leave the Bureau provided, but there was no 
telling whether she would return to the X-Files when her 
time off was over at the end of October, or be 
reassigned elsewhere.  Wherever she ended up, it would 
not be at Mulder's side.  The days of their working 
partnership were past. 

The thought was more than unsettling.  It had gnawed at 
her since the day Mulder had shown up at her door and 
announced that he had been terminated.  She had been 
pregnant then, and there had been other, more 
threatening things to consider.  But now her return to 
work was imminent, and Mulder wouldn't be there.  What 
was next for them?  Turning away from the window, she 
looked back at Mulder and Wim, trying to find the 
stability she was seeking in the image of the two of 
them.  

Mulder was watching her.  "Beach?" he mouthed, and she 
closed her eyes, nodding.

He ducked his head, smiling and murmuring something 
about sand-crab cocktails.  She mused that perhaps he 
had entertained a similar idea about the two of them 
sneaking out onto the moonlight sand.  If he had, he'd 
kept it to himself, and she supposed that that was just 
as well.  There was seldom an opportunity for making 
love these days - their unsuccessful attempt in the 
shower that morning was a testament to that. Sneaking 
out to lie between the sand dunes in the middle of the 
night, making love until the sun came up... this was not 
an option available to them.

She let out a sigh, moving around the bed to sit next to 
her men.  Wim had finally belched, and he was lying on 
Mulder's lap, content for the moment, his eyes drifting 
shut.  They watched him for a long time, gazing down on 
his sweet face, slack and peaceful.

She had a child.  She had been given the thing that she 
had wanted most in her life - the *two* things she'd 
wanted most: Mulder and Wim - but that didn't stop the 
unsettled feeling that gnawed at her.  It was more than 
just work, or sexual frustration.  She and Mulder were 
not very much like Charlie and Joy, but neither were 
they similar to Bill and Tara, settled and secure in 
their relationship and their family.  She knew Wim was 
the greatest gift she could ever have wished for, but 
sometimes she couldn't help but wonder what might have 
been.  *If*.  If Mulder hadn't been abducted.  If they'd 
had more time for the two of them before taking on all 
of this.  Perhaps they might have been able to progress 
through the issues that seemed to limit them, holding 
them in the here and now.  Or maybe they wouldn't have.  
Maybe without Wim they would never have come as far as 
they have.

She knew that it should be enough.  She knew that she 
should just count her blessings as the miracles they 
were and be happy, especially considering there had been 
several times in the last eight years that she would 
never have imagined any of this possible.  She stopped 
and thought sometimes, remembering the black days of 
Mulder's abduction and then his death - she had been 
little more than a shell then, alone and afraid.  Afraid 
for the child she carried.  Afraid she wouldn't be able 
to protect him.  Afraid she wouldn't be able to do it on 
her own.  She had been desperate to hold on to the 
remaining part of Mulder's life growing inside her. 

But then Mulder had come back - to life, to work.  To 
her.  It should be enough.

It should be enough.  But like a delicate tapestry with 
loose threads, she felt like it was all beginning to 
come undone.

Standing, she reached out and lifted the sleeping Wim 
off of Mulder's lap, pressing her lips against his head 
and turning to lay him in the crib beside the bed.  
Mulder had been watching him with a pensive expression 
on his face, chewing his lower lip while his mind was 
working on some unknown puzzle elsewhere.  Perhaps he 
had picked up on her mood.  He rose from the bed and 
stood just behind her as she tucked Wim's blanket around 
his body, stroking the baby-soft down on his little 
head.

She felt Mulder step closer to the crib, his large hand 
reaching out to squeeze the baby's foot.  There was so 
much love.

Love was not the problem.  Love was never the problem.

Scully turned and walked back to the bed, sliding 
between the sheets and scooting over to her own side 
with a heavy sigh.  Mulder climbed in after her, curling 
behind her without touching, but close enough that she 
could feel his breath on the back of her neck as he 
exhaled - a sad, weary sound.

"Love you," he whispered softly, reaching out to touch 
her hair.

She closed her eyes, focusing on the sensation.  "I love 
you, too," she replied.  She thought about Joy's comment 
out on the deck, and wondered about the truth in the 
other woman's observations.  Had she been fooling 
herself that Mulder merely needed more time to adjust to 
all of the changes he'd encountered since his return?  
Was he trying to get his feet firmly on the ground, or 
was he happy with the status quo?  Maybe he did plan to 
maintain separate residences and separate identities 
indefinitely.  Maybe she had been waiting for a sign, 
for some kind of resolution that wasn't going to come.   
She licked her lips quickly, drawing in a slow breath.  
"Mulder?" she said hesitantly.

"Hmm?" he responded sleepily.

She paused.  "Wim's going to outgrow my apartment before 
long..."

"Mmm hmm..." he intoned.  "Babies grow..."

"He'll need his own room."  She waited for his reply.  
When he said nothing, she frowned.  "Mulder?"

"That's okay, Scully," he said groggily, "I'll help you 
move if that's what you want."

She licked her lips again, opening her mouth to reply 
but changing her mind.  She hadn't even thought about 
this as a possible scenario.  Perhaps Joy had been 
right.  Mulder's hand settled on her hip, and she 
listened to the sound of the wind outside, hoping it 
would lull her back into a dreamless slumber.  But her 
mind kept turning.

Separate identities and individual freedom. 

Perhaps that was what Mulder wanted.  But was it enough?  
She knew with a sinking feeling of disappointment in her 
stomach that it wasn't - not for her.  She didn't think 
so, anyway.  She knew that with this new outlook on 
their relationship to analyze and consider, she would 
not be falling asleep any time soon.

"Goodnight," she said softly.

"Love you," he mumbled again, his hand leaving her hip 
as he rolled away from her.

She exhaled, long and low.  Love.  In the end, she hoped 
that love would be enough.

~
Tuesday
~

The sound of multiple footsteps echoed down through the 
center of the Hatteras Lighthouse; softly abrasive 
vibrations, ringing louder as they were amplified by the 
structure itself, like a giant megaphone tipped on end.  
Mulder halted his own monotonous ascent to re-adjust 
Wim's Snugli on his shoulders, and for a moment he just 
listened to the continuous *chushh-chushh-chushh* of 
feet as they continued in circles above and below him.  
They were inside the tallest lighthouse in the United 
States - two-hundred and sixty-eight steps in all.  
Mulder was on step number one-hundred and seventy-two.  
Only ninety-six steps to go.

Woo freaking hoo.

Every muscle in his body - particularly the ones most 
necessary to the game of basketball - was voicing its 
dull complaint.  He had woken up stiff and sore, and not 
even his run that morning or the hot shower he had taken 
afterwards had done much to loosen him up.  He shook his 
knee slightly, willing the ligaments there to relax.  
Feeling a hand on the small of his back, he turned to 
look over his shoulder.

"Don't stop now," Joy said, smiling.  Charlie was 
crowding behind her on the ever-narrowing spiral steps, 
the two of them bringing up the rear of their caravan to 
the top of the lighthouse.  Mulder watched Joy's hand as 
she reached out to pinch Wim's chin gently, Wim gurgling 
and kicking his bare feet against his father's chest.  
Mulder glanced over his shoulder at Joy, resuming his 
climb.

"The tattoo on your hand," he said.  Joy looked up at 
him expectantly.  "It's a trigram from the I Ching, 
right?"

Joy grinned. "That's right," she said. "It's *Tui* - 
'The Lake'."

"Ah."

"It represents the energy of sparkling water," Joy 
explained.  "The happiness of perfect communication, 
love without the sorrow of regret -"

"*The Joyous*," Mulder said, calling the symbol by it's 
English name. Joy laughed with pleasant surprise.

"That's right," she said again.

"Get it?" Charlie asked from behind her. "The *Joy-
ous*?"

Mulder laughed, glancing back at them again. "Yeah, I 
get it."

Joy narrowed her eyes at him.  "How do you know about 
the I Ching?" she asked.  Mulder smiled to himself.

"I get around."

"Uh huh, I bet you do."

They climbed without talking for a few moments, and 
Mulder could hear Matthew's excited voice above them.  
The others must have made it to the top.  Only seventy 
steps left.

"Do you believe in it?" he asked then, with another 
quick glance over his shoulder.  "The I Ching, I mean - 
as an oracle?"

"Oh, I don't know," Joy said.  All three of them stopped 
on one of the wider landings so an older couple could 
pass them on their way down, and Mulder noticed that 
Charlie was holding onto the back of the waistband of 
Joy's shorts.  Once the older couple had passed, they 
continued upward.  "I guess I do, kind of," Joy went on.  
"As much as you might believe in your horoscope.  The 
tattoo is from back when I was going through my 'Chinese 
and Proud' phase."

"Grew out of your pride, huh?" Mulder asked, giving her 
a grin.  Joy and Charlie laughed.

"Well, it's hard to maintain the militant energy of a 
twenty-two-year-old," she said.

Mulder chuckled appreciatively.  Tell me about it, he 
thought, feeling the ache in his muscles a little more 
sharply.  Tara's voice came down to them from the top of 
the steps, reverberating strangely through the tower: 
"Come on, slow-pokes! Wait'll you see this *view*!"

Mulder took a deep breath and ignored the pain in his 
knee.  Only fifty-three steps left.

~

Scully walked out of the glassed-in beacon room onto the 
catwalk that ringed the top of the massive tower.  
Turning her face into the sun and wind, she took a long 
breath of the clean salt air.  It was another beautiful 
day, all golden and blue.  If there was a storm brewing 
out at sea, it was hardly evident.  Below the 
lighthouse, beyond the Buxton Woods and the dunes beyond 
that, the ocean was the color of the midnight sky, swept 
with brilliant tufts of white-capped waves.  Scully 
leaned against the iron railing and closed her eyes, 
grasping two of the tines in her hands.  She took 
another deep breath, and held on.

The sea air was invigorating, and helped to clear her 
head somewhat.  She hadn't slept well once awakened by 
the nightmare, and even now she thought she could feel 
its shadow hanging over her.  It was always the same 
vague, confusing terror, always the same feeling of 
being watched, of being weighted down.  Unable to move 
or cry out as hands clutched at her, ripping her baby 
from her.  Faces she could never quite see.  Screams 
that came out as deafening silence.  The adrenaline 
surge was usually enough to jolt her out of it, 
breathing hard with the taste of lead in her mouth.  And 
then she would lie awake, her heart hammering, cold 
arteries of fear pumping fresh dread into every part of 
her body.

Having Mulder there when she woke up was the only thing 
that helped.  He didn't ask her about the dreams 
anymore.  After four months, he had slowly learned 
simply to curl himself around her and let his own calm 
presence sooth her.  She had suspected for some time 
that this was a large part of the reason he stayed at 
her apartment most nights, especially since Wim's 
feeding schedule had begun to lessen.  The idea nagged 
her, leaving a residual anxiety almost as bad as the 
nightmares themselves, but it wasn't something she would 
ever confront him with; she doubted he would admit it to 
her even if she did manage the courage to ask.

Or maybe he would admit it.  She exhaled wearily, 
telling herself - as she had been, over and over, since 
Mulder's last words to her the night before - that she 
just didn't know.

She turned her back on the panorama beyond the railing 
and watched her brother with his family through the 
window.  Bill and Tara would be married nine years this 
November.  Scully took a deep breath, observing as Bill 
carried Matthew slowly around the beacon.  Tara was 
close by, standing with Maggie and looking on fondly, an 
unconscious smile on her lips.  Nine years, Scully 
thought.  It wasn't the first time she had considered 
the fact that her brother had married his wife at nearly 
the same time that she had met Mulder, give or take a 
few months.

Tara looked up to see Scully watching them through the 
glass, and smiled.  Leaving Maggie's side, she came out 
onto the catwalk, sideling up to where Scully stood by 
the railing.  She gave Scully a scrunch-nosed smile, and 
the two of them turned to squint out toward the hazy 
northeastern horizon together.  Tara let out a contented 
sigh.

"*What* a gorgeous day - I bet we could see all the way 
to the house from up here...if we knew which one it 
was."

Scully hummed vaguely in reply.  Tara shaded her eyes 
with one hand and peered up the beach toward Avon.

"You can even see the pier from here," she said.  Scully 
nodded.

"Yeah."

The view was spectacular, offering a three-hundred and 
sixty degree vista from the center of the sandy elbow 
that was Cape Hatteras.  To the north, the beach swept 
toward Avon and Kinnakeet in softly curving scallops, 
the piers pointing into the water like long lashes.  
Scully sighed and pushed her hair away from her face.

Tara peered closely at her sister-in-law and dropped her 
voice. "You okay?  You've been so quiet."

Scully looked up quickly, suddenly alert. "Oh no - I'm 
fine."  She stopped and took in a deep breath, gazing 
back out at the scenery.  "I've just got a lot on my 
mind this morning, I guess."

She offered a weak smile and Tara nodded, her lips 
pressed together with concern.  She leaned forward to 
peek behind Scully's sunglasses.  "How's your eye?" she 
asked, her voice carrying a strange emphasis.

Scully took off her glasses so that Tara could see. She 
had gotten up that morning with the whole side of her 
face aching and tender, her right eye encircled by a 
livid purplish-yellow bruise.  It didn't hurt anymore - 
not unless she happened to touch her cheek accidentally 
- but one look at it in the mirror this morning had 
confirmed her fears from the night before: it would be 
awhile before the bruise faded.

Tara clicked her tongue and sucked in a sympathetic 
breath at the sight of it. "Oh Dana - does it hurt?"

Scully shook her head. "No, it's fine.  Really."

"Billy's been beating himself up over it since yesterday 
- he's so sorry, Dana, you know that -"

"It was an accident," Scully said.  Tara stopped and 
nodded, her tightly pressed mouth turning up into a 
smile as she leaned into Scully's side. 

"I'm so glad you decided to come," she said, twining her 
arm through Scully's giving her a sideways hug.  "Your 
Mom told me that you hadn't planned to at first, and I 
know things haven't been great between you and Billy -"

"Tara -"

"No - I know," Tara said, leaning back a little to look 
Scully in the eye. "I know he can be -" She paused and 
glanced behind them. Bill was inside with Maggie, 
holding Matthew up to inspect the giant prisms that made 
up the beacon itself.  Tara sighed, watching them. "He 
can be a real bastard about things sometimes," she said, 
laughing fondly.

Scully let out a laugh and Tara turned back to her with 
a smile.

"But it's only because he cares about you, Dana," she 
said. Scully let her chin fall to her chest, her breath 
hitching as Tara went on. "He gets so worried about you 
sometimes, with your work and everything - and then this 
whole last year, when none of us knew what was going on 
with you, and then we found out you were *pregnant*..."

Tara waved her hand in a gesture of vague helplessness 
as she trailed off.  Behind them, Mulder and the baby 
had just emerged through the hatch in the floor, 
followed closely by Joy and Charlie. They were all 
laughing.  Scully felt a pang of tenderness at the sight 
of Mulder with Wim strapped against his chest.  The 
emotion hit her at the oddest times - dear God, how she 
loved them.  She took a deep breath and slipped her 
sunglasses back on.

"I know he hasn't sounded very positive about it," Tara 
was saying, her voice pitched low. "But Billy *is* happy 
for you, Dana. He knows how much this baby means to 
you."

Scully turned to look at Tara.  She knew that her 
brother cared about her and worried for her, and she 
knew too that deep down, all of his caustic comments and 
seeming lack of confidence in her and her work only came 
out of his own concern.  But when it came to Wim, she 
didn't know.  From the moment Bill had found out about 
her pregnancy, he had treated it as another poor 
decision on her part, one more disappointment she had 
brought to the family.  She blinked and looked away.  
"He's certainly done a good job of keeping that to 
himself," she murmured.

Tara huffed and gave Scully a knowing smirk.  "Well, he 
is a Scully, after all."  Scully let out a short laugh, 
and Tara smiled and bumped shoulders with her, 
continuing, "I think we're all just hoping that now that 
you've got the baby, and you're both out of the 
Bureau...maybe things will settle down for you guys," 
she said.  "Maybe you'll be able to have a more normal 
life."

Scully's turned, her brows raised to their limit, and 
Tara hastened to correct herself.

"Oh - I didn't mean that the way it sounded -"

Scully laughed ruefully. "No, it's okay," she said.  
"We're not exactly the poster-children for normalcy." 

Tara took in a breath, her forehead bunching with 
anxiety, and Scully looked up to meet her eyes. "Dana," 
Tara said, shaking her head with an expression of 
earnest concern, and, Scully thought, a tone that 
sounded a lot like pity.  She took Scully's hand and 
gave it a gentle squeeze.  "We all just want you to be 
happy."

Scully pressed her lips together and swallowed the sharp 
come-back that sprang automatically to her lips.  She 
hated that tone, that condescending assumption that she 
was somehow lacking just because of the choices she'd 
made in her life.  *How do you know I'm not happy,* she 
wanted to say.  What made them all think she wasn't 
happy?  Just because she wanted things didn't mean she 
was unhappy...

"I know," she said instead, deciding not to correct her 
sister-in-law's assumption.  What was the point, when it 
went hand in hand with the somewhat misconstrued belief 
that she wouldn't be returning to the Bureau, or that 
she and Mulder may be poised to embark on some brand 
new, *normal* life?

"Well," Tara said, brightening as she changed the 
subject. "We'd better get going if we're gonna make it 
up to Kitty Hawk.  I'm gonna take Matty to the gift-
shop.  You coming down?"

"Yeah," Scully nodded.  "In a minute."

Tara joined the rest of the family around the light 
inside, and Scully turned back, combing her hair back 
from her forehead with her fingers and gazing out toward 
the ocean.  The base of the lighthouse was now more than 
half a mile further from the sea than it had been just 
two years before.  It had been a monumental move. 

Two years.

Nine years.

So much could happen in such a short time. Nine years 
ago she would not have imagined being where she was now: 
a single mother, looking down the barrel of a career and 
a *life* turned upside down, the foundations of 
everything she knew and relied on drifting and shifting 
beneath her like loose sand.  Nine years ago, she had 
known exactly who she was, exactly what she wanted.

Two years ago it had not been so clear, but it had been 
enough to know that Mulder loved her, that he had chosen 
*her*, just as she had chosen him.  As long as they were 
together - the details hadn't mattered.

Now, she wasn't so sure.  Now all she saw were details.

Two years or nine years, she was miles from where she 
had been.

~

"Jesus - is *everything* uphill?"

Mulder dropped heavily to the sand next to Scully and 
let out a massive groan.  The sand, a fine, ochre-
colored dust, was still warm from a day's worth of sun, 
and felt good under his sorely abused body.  He had 
climbed all two-hundred and sixty-eight steps to the top 
of the lighthouse.  He had climbed to the top of Kill 
Devil Hill to see the Wright Brothers National Memorial.  
He had climbed to the top of yet *another* hill to see 
the Wright Brothers Memorial Gift-shop and Museum (which 
housed a mere replica of the plane he used to pass at 
least two or three times a week during lunch-breaks at 
the Air and Space).  In the gift-shop he had bought a 
sepia-toned postcard of old Wilbur and Orville during 
their historic first hop across the dunes.  On the back, 
he'd written, simply:

*Something for the wall of fame.*

And he'd dropped it into the shop's mail-slot, addressed 
to the basement office of Special Agent John Doggett of 
the FBI.

Having done just about all they could do in one day, 
they'd all trudged back down to the parking-lot, 
sunburned and exhausted and ready to head back south, 
everyone looking forward to a relaxing dinner at one of 
the road-side restaurants they'd passed on the way up.  
Mulder had been following Bill, distracted by thoughts 
of fried food and cold beer, when his attention had been 
drawn back to the road by the minivan's blinker.  Bill 
had pulled them off the highway and into a crowded 
parking-lot darkened by the shadow of the massive 
mountain of sand that loomed over them to the west, 
blocking out the lowering rays of the late-afternoon 
sun.

Jockeys' Ridge, the highest sand-dune on the East Coast.

And so Mulder had found himself climbing again, wincing 
as his shoes filled with the slippery sand, watching 
over his shoulder as people strapped to brightly colored 
hang-gliders took off running along the ridge, flinging 
themselves into the wind that swept over the giant dune.  
The same wind ruffled his hair as he reclined on the 
sand next to Scully, who was sitting cross-legged with 
Wim asleep in her lap, the straps of his Snugli sagging 
off of her shoulders.  Mulder leaned back on his elbows 
and squinted up at her.

They were nearly at the top of the dune, high enough 
that the sun, sinking low behind them, touched Scully's 
head and shoulders, outlining her in a rose-gold corona, 
setting her breeze-swept hair alight like a bright 
flame.  He watched her shoulders rise and fall as she 
sighed, and he stretched his hand out to rub her back.

"How're you doing?" he asked. They hadn't said much to 
each other all day.  Even during the long car ride up to 
Kitty Hawk, while Maggie fussed over Wim in the back 
seat, Scully had been quiet, wearing a pensive look 
behind her sunglasses that Mulder had spent most of the 
rest of the afternoon trying to gauge.  She turned to 
look at him, but did not say anything.  He swept his 
fingers gently along her spine.  "What're you thinking 
about, Scully?"

She licked her lips and looked down at Wim awhile before 
she answered.  "Us, mostly," she said, glancing back at 
him.

"Uh-oh," he said, the humor in his voice belying his 
concern.  "Is this about yesterday morning in the 
shower?"  He watched her face carefully for signs of 
what was coming.  She chuffed lightly, then took in 
another deep breath and he knew that humor wasn't going 
to cut it this time.  Reaching out, he lifted Wim and 
the Snugli off her lap and laid the sleeping child 
across his chest.  "You've been thinking about this all 
day."

She squinted at him, her face appearing pinched behind 
her sunglasses.  "I'm just trying to figure it out, 
Mulder."  He squinted back at her, and she licked her 
lips again, quickly.  "I mean, so much has happened in 
the last year.  And now, there's so much we haven't 
addressed."

He nodded, watching her as she turned her head and 
looked back out at the road below, the dark pavement 
stretching off into the distance.  "I know," he said, 
"There's a lot of things we need to get out into the 
open."

Scully was silent a long time, still staring down the 
road.  He looked out at what she was seeing - the flat 
black highway, scattered buildings, more beach and the 
sea beyond - and wondered what she was thinking.  The 
sun was setting behind them, but neither of them turned 
to watch the amber tinted sky as it transformed to red, 
then purple, and slowly faded into dusk.  This didn't 
seem like the most appropriate time or place to break 
into this conversation, Mulder thought, but he decided 
to roll with it - these moments didn't come easily, 
especially in the middle of such a large family 
vacation.

"Is there something in particular that's bothering you, 
or is it everything in general?" he asked, uncertain 
which answer he preferred.

She heaved a sigh, then turned to look over her shoulder 
at him.  "Truthfully, I'm not sure if it's just one 
thing or if that one thing is tied up into everything 
else."  She shook her head, turning back toward the 
highway.  "I just don't know."

Mulder thought about what she'd said.  He could name off 
each of the individual issues he'd been mulling over in 
his head the past few months, but he also knew that each 
issue was connected to the rest without any way to 
separate them and still give them the amount of 
attention they deserved.  As he'd thought so often 
before, this was not a simple conversation.  What's 
more, there could be a whole slew of things on her mind 
that he hadn't even considered.

And they were masters at glossing over the big 
conversations, hinting around the edges until they each 
found some satisfaction in what they were trying to 
glean from the situation.  He looked down at Wim, 
sleeping soundly on his chest.  This time, he knew, that 
wasn't going to be enough.

"Hey you two!" Joy called down from the top of the dune.  
They both looked up toward her, a dark figure backlit by 
the last rays of Tuesday's sun.  She waved to them.  
"We're going!"

Mulder turned and looked at Scully, who shared his 
rueful, frustrated expression.  Stalled again, he 
thought, slowly rising to his feet without disturbing 
Wim's slumber.  At least they'd agreed that they needed 
to discuss things, and that in itself spoke to how 
serious the situation had become.

The conversation could not be left simmering on the back 
burner much longer.

~

Nathan's Krusty Krab lived up to its name, a weathered, 
gray wooden shack surrounded by long picnic tables and 
benches atop a sturdy deck that looked out on the dunes 
and the ocean beyond. There was a white trellis 
separating the deck from the parking lot, covered with 
ivy growing out of enormous terra cotta pots, and 
decorated with white Christmas lights.  Strands of white 
lights were also strung from one end of the deck to the 
other, criss-crossed above and sparkling like the stars 
in the cloudless night sky. The tables were covered with 
white butcher paper for tablecloths, and adorned with 
small acrylic vases of fresh fragrant flowers to 
accommodate the dinner crowd.

All in all, the combination of casual and elegant 
elements within the outdoorsy beach setting was 
charming, down to the craggy, weathered locals who 
shared the deck with them.  In fact, it appeared that 
the only other patrons of the establishment *were* the 
locals, who looked at them curiously as they took their 
seats.

The Scullys had pushed two full picnic tables together 
to make one long table in the middle of the deck.  Bill 
and Tara sat opposite Charlie and Joy, while Mulder sat 
next to Joy and directly across from Scully, who was 
seated next to Tara.  Wim slept in his carrier on top of 
the table at the end near Mulder and Scully, and Maggie 
sat on the other end with Matthew, who could barely keep 
his eyes open.

Joy shook her head dubiously as she perused the menu in 
her hand.

"It's all fish," she grumbled, tossing her hair back 
over her shoulder.  "I don't eat fish."

"You're pretty strict vegetarian, huh?" Tara asked.  Joy 
closed her menu resolutely.

"I don't eat anything with a face," she said.

"It doesn't come with the face *on* it - unless you're 
getting crab," Charlie commented, eyeing the menu with 
interest. "Damn, I'm hungry."

"You eating crab with the rest of us, Charles?" Bill 
asked with a smirk from across the table.

"Why yes, I believe I am, big brother," he closed the 
menu with finality.  "In fact, I think I'm hungry enough 
to take the Krusty challenge." He pointed over Maggie's 
head to a blackboard nailed to the top of the shack, 
covered in colorful chalk that read: 

*Krusty's challenge: finish ten Krusty Krabs (chosen by 
the house) and your dinner is free.*

"You wouldn't," Joy said with disdain.  "I don't want to 
sit here watching you crack open shells all night long."  
She made a face, wiggling with disgust.

Charlie leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Come on, 
Joyous, get into the spirit of the Outer Banks. They're 
*crabs*."

"No thank you," Joy replied stiffly.  "I'll stick to 
salad."  She glanced at Mulder, catching his eye briefly 
before he focused back on the menu.

"Anybody else up for the challenge?" Charlie asked, 
rubbing his hands together gleefully.  "Billy boy?"  
Bill shook his head with mild disgust, and Charlie 
looked over at Mulder.  "Mulder - you game, man?"

Mulder shook his head with a slight grin, then laid the 
menu down on the table. He was extremely hungry, but 
knew that even in top form he wouldn't have been able to 
crack open and eat ten boiled crabs in one sitting. 
"Sorry, I *know* my limits."

"Aw, come on, give me a chance to get even from our game 
yesterday."

"A bet's a bet," Bill replied, shaking his head.  "Kiss 
your curls goodbye and call the barber, goldilocks.  A 
bunch of crabs aren't gonna save you now."

Charlie sighed dramatically.  "Fine.  I'll be the only 
one of you enjoying a free dinner.  Consider it my final 
hurrah before the scissors turn me into a different 
man."

"Oh, Charles," Maggie said affectionately from the end 
of the table.  "You'll look nice.  You're such a 
handsome young man."

"*Nice*?" Charlie said in reply. "Nice is for Billy Boy 
and Oxford over here."  He jerked his thumb in Mulder's 
direction. "I don't want to look *nice*.  *I* am an 
*artiste*." 

Maggie clucked her tongue at him, and he laughed, 
dramatically muttering "handsome" under his breath.

Scully lay her menu down on the table and exhaled 
slowly, causing Mulder to glance once more in her 
direction.  With her sunglasses on, it was difficult for 
anyone to read her expression in the dim ambient light.

Mulder slid his foot over to hers underneath the table, 
tapping the side of her shoe with his toe.  She turned 
her head toward him, tipping her chin down to gaze over 
the top of her glasses.

He pursed his lips and tilted his head, giving her a 
look that asked, "you okay?"  She nodded slightly, then 
averted her gaze to the waitress approaching their 
table.

"Well, you all are a brave lot," the waitress said with 
a friendly tone.  "Most vacationers started clearing out 
with the first weather reports."

Mulder smiled up at her.  She appeared to be in her 
early to mid-fifties, with tanned skin that had seen a 
lot of sun and wind.  Probably one of the owners of the 
establishment, he deduced from her pleasant but 
proprietary air.

"We haven't heard the latest," he replied.  "The last 
thing we'd read was the possibility that the storm would 
run out of steam at sea."

The waitress shook her head.  "Oh, no, he's comin' this 
way alright.  I'm surprised your rental agency has let 
you stay on.  They usually start clearing the houses out 
at the first sign of a hurricane coming."

"We're not renting," Maggie answered her from across the 
table.  "The house belongs to a friend."

"Well then, you've probably got everything you need for 
weatherproofing right there under the house.  Most of 
'em have some kind of utility room for supplies and what 
not.  If it was me, I'd be thinking about boarding up 
the windows while the weather holds.  We've got thirty-
six, maybe forty-eight hours before Felix shows his face 
around here.  You'll hear the warnings and the emergency 
calls for sure."

Maggie's expression dropped slightly, along with the 
others.  The weather had been so beautiful, and the 
thought of boarding up the windows would put a damper on 
the rest of week.  No beach views.  They had all known 
about the possibility of Tropical Storm Felix making an 
appearance during their stay, but it hadn't seem like 
much of a reality until now.  Suddenly, everyone was 
aware of the fact that they might have to cut their 
vacation short and leave before the storm hit.

The waitress looked down at Wim, and grinned.  "You're 
packin' some precious cargo."  Raising her head, she 
glanced around at each of the faces at the table with a 
smile.  "So what'll you have?"

~

They decided to take advantage of Krusty's family dinner 
and ordered family-style - enough slaw, corn on the cob, 
barbecued beans and boiled crabs for everyone.  The 
crabs were dumped by the bushel into two heaps in the 
middle of their tables, each person given a bib and a 
mallet to assist with the shell-cracking.  Joy had 
traded seats with Scully so that she could sit on the 
end of the table, away from what she deemed 'the 
carnage' as she picked away at her modest salad.

Charlie wielded his mallet like a master, slamming it 
onto the table with a thud and crunch of shell.  Matthew 
tried to emulate him, his less-refined motor skills 
causing him to hit the table more than the crab until 
Bill helped him out, cleaning the sweet meat out of a 
claw and adding it to his son's plate.

Scully tapped on the claws on her crab, and Mulder 
grinned to the side at her, taking advantage of the 
close proximity.  It seemed that he'd hardly spent any 
time with her at all that day, except for the brief 
moment on the dune.

"Great to see you slicing and dicing again," he quipped 
in a low voice close to her ear. 

"Unfortunately, this qualifies as neither slicing *nor* 
dicing," she replied, wincing as she used her fingers to 
pry the moist shell apart.  Her words were punctuated by 
the sound of mallets striking in uneven rhythm. 
"Pummeling comes to mind, or battering, lambasting, 
pulverizing..."

"Obliterating," Mulder added with a smirk, twisting off 
a claw.  "Extirpating, decimating..." 

Scully let out a soft laugh and he glanced up, the two 
of them sharing a brief but familiar moment of word-play 
one-upmanship.  His eye caught Joy watching them 
closely, and he met her direct gaze, then looked over at 
Scully again with a soft smile.

Tara wiped her mouth with a napkin, beaming brightly.  
"This reminds me of the first night I met the Scully 
family," she said fondly, glancing around the table.  
"You were all having a crab feast at Maggie's house."

Maggie raised her head, her brow creased as she tried to 
remember the occasion.  Then her face split into a wide 
grin. "Oh, yes.  Bill was on leave and Dana had just 
started working.  Aunt Olive brought crabs up from 
Chesapeake Bay."

Tara laughed.  "Oh yes, Aunt Olive.  I distinctly 
remember that part."

Bill raised his head and grinned at her.  "Heck of a 
first time with the family, wasn't it honey?"

Charlie waved his mallet at Bill, his voice rising in 
pitch and taking on an Irish brogue.  "William!  
William!  You bring yer young lady over here and let's 
have a look at 'er!" 

Scully chuckled, and Mulder grinned, looking down at her 
with affection before turning his attention back to 
Charlie.  This was the kind of thing he'd missed out on 
with his own family, and therefore, Scully's family 
history was more than just a little interesting to him.

"My, but you've a sweet face," Charlie continued, still 
in character. "You watch this one, William, she'll break 
your heart as sure as I'm standin' here."

Bill slid his arm around Tara, giving her a squeeze.  
Tara closed her eyes, then opened them again, shining.  
"I'll never forget our wedding day, when Aunt Olive 
showed up at the church with her arms full of lavender," 
she said.  "I'd hired a professional do my hair and 
makeup and Aunt Olive stepped right in and started 
weaving this lavender into my hair -" Tara laughed.  
"She said it would bring me luck and power, but the 
woman I'd hired nearly had a heart attack trying to get 
her to stop.  Luckily, they were able to come to a 
compromise."

"Luck of the Irish," Charlie quipped as he brought his 
mallet down once again, causing the table to tremble.  
"You see how well it worked?"

Maggie reached out and squeezed Tara's hand.  "You 
looked beautiful," she said warmly.

Tara smiled, and leaned forward to see down to the end 
of the table. "Make sure you clear everything with Aunt 
Olive when your time comes, Dana and Joy.  It will make 
things *so much* easier."

Mulder noticed that Scully looked down at her lap, 
smoothing the edges of her napkin as Joy stared back at 
Tara with a quizzical expression.  Before Joy could 
respond, Matthew brought his mallet down in the middle 
of a crab with a loud *splat*, causing her to cringe.

"I wike cwabs," he said, giggling gleefully.

~

Maggie noticed with a mother's concern that Dana had 
been pensive and withdrawn most of the day.  Watching 
from across the table, she saw her daughter finish 
dinner much sooner and eat much less than anyone else, 
sitting silently between Fox and Charles, making little 
effort to follow the conversation as it volleyed back 
and forth while the others continued their meal.

Whether it was because her eye was sore and 
uncomfortable, or for some other reason related to the 
way she got hurt - Dana was more quiet than usual.  Call 
it a mother's intuition, but Maggie didn't think either 
scenario was the main issue.  Still, after years of 
watching her daughter deal silently with her own 
problems, Maggie knew better than to pry.  It reminded 
her of an incident in Dana's childhood, when she'd 
disobeyed her parents then stoically accepted her 
punishment, remaining quiet the rest of the day, despite 
repeated attempts to draw her out of her silence.  Dana 
had always preferred to handle her problems her own way.

"Dana," she called softly to her during a lull in 
conversation as the others finished their meals.  Dana 
looked up, her eyebrow raised in question above the 
frames of her dark glasses.  "Do you remember the day we 
were going to meet Aunt Olive at the church, and I told 
you not to go outside because you'd get your new dress 
dirty?"

Dana smiled, chuffing.  "I remember.  And I followed 
Bill outside anyway, certain that nothing could possibly 
happen to me or my dress."

Bill snorted.  "I remember that.  You were circling that 
tree in the backyard after Dad had just watered, what 
did you expect?"

"I would have been fine if it hadn't been for Danny 
Denning," Dana replied, sitting up straighter.  "He 
wandered into the backyard right after I'd stepped 
outside."

"Danny Denning?" Maggie said with confusion.  "Captain 
Denning's boy?  Was he there?"

"Yes," Scully replied with a sigh, shifting her head 
from side to side and wincing as her neck popped softly.  
"He snuck up on me and pushed me from behind."

"He did," Bill chimed in, wiping his chin with his 
napkin, then working on his hands.  "She fell right in - 
covered in mud.  I chased him all the way to the next 
block."

Maggie looked from Dana, to Bill, and back to Dana 
again, trying to recall that specific part of the story.  
"I don't remember that."

"Of course you don't," Dana replied.  "You and dad were 
so angry that I'd gone outside against your orders, Dad 
didn't want to hear any excuses."

Bill smirked.  "Dad really let you have it."

Dana looked at her brother, but her expression was 
difficult to read behind the dark glasses.  Her voice 
held no malice as she retorted, "And you stood on the 
other side of the wall and laughed the entire time."

"Billy!" Tara exclaimed.  "What a mean thing to do!"

"Bill," Maggie clucked, surprised to learn that her son 
had teased his younger sister in such a way.  "Why would 
you do such a thing?"

"What?" Bill replied in defense.  "I chased Danny away."

"Did you catch him?" Joy asked pointedly, breaking into 
the conversation.  Maggie studied her expression, noting 
her direct gaze and the slight challenge in her tone.  
There was something about Joy that made her slightly 
uncomfortable.  She was pleasant, and Charles seemed 
very taken with her, but Maggie found her direct manner 
and confidence a bit unsettling.

Bill glanced at Joy and shifted in his seat, placing his 
napkin down on top of the table and adjusting the bib 
around Matthew's neck.  "No."  A smirk played at the 
corners of his mouth.  "Not that time."

"Well," Maggie shook her head.  "I'm sure there were 
many times when I wasn't told the whole story."  The 
thought occurred to her that she was probably better off 
not knowing everything that had occurred between her 
kids when she and her husband hadn't been around.

"You could have told the truth," Joy threw back at him, 
and Bill laughed it off.  

"Like Dana said, she broke the rules and got what she 
deserved - the other details weren't important."

Maggie shook her head at her son's logic.  While she 
knew the details *were* important, she also knew the way 
his mind worked.  She'd lived with his father thirty-
three years. And like Bill senior, she mused fondly, 
Bill junior was Navy, through and through.

"Do you have brothers or sisters, Joy?" she asked, 
wondering about this unusual woman who had apparently 
captured her son's heart.

Joy didn't respond immediately, and Maggie's question 
hung heavily in the air as they ate.  Mulder was rocking 
Wim's carrier with one hand, and Joy reached out, 
tucking the well-tucked blanket around the baby's feet.

"I have a five-year-old half-sister from my mother's 
latest marriage," she said, trying to school her voice 
into a neutral tone.  She continued to fuss with Wim's 
blanket, and Mulder could tell that she was not 
comfortable with the subject.  Maggie had struck a 
nerve.

"But I grew up around a lot of other kids," Joy 
continued, her tone becoming more conversational.  "And 
my cousin Josh was like a brother to me when I stayed 
with my grandparents in Chinatown."

Charlie was staring across the table at Joy. "Wait," he 
said, shaking his head in confusion. "Wait.  You have a 
*sister*?"  Joy nodded and continued eating.  Charlie 
stared at her incredulously, and Mulder saw the flash of 
bewildered pain that crossed his face.  "Why didn't you 
ever tell me?" Charlie asked.  "How come you never talk 
about her?"

Joy shifted in her seat, picking up her fork and pushing 
the food around on her plate.  Her brow furrowed and the 
corners of her lips turned down in a frown.  She 
shrugged and glanced up at Mulder, then looked away.

"It never came up before now."

Charlie mopped up the barbecue sauce from his beans with 
a piece of roll, stuffing it into his mouth and speaking 
around it. "We should have her up some weekend.  It 
would be fun."  His voice conveyed a lightness that was 
not quite reflected in his eyes.

Joy glared at him, her tone flat and clipped when she 
responded, "She can't.  My mother keeps her schedule 
pretty packed.  Soccer practice, dance class, Chinese 
lessons..."

Charlie stopped chewing and looked at her, an ornery 
smirk growing on his lips.  "Wow.  Big change in 
parenting technique, huh?"

Mulder watched as Joy set her face into a rigid mask, 
her dark eyes flashing.  She said nothing.  What's more, 
Mulder was certain Charlie had been taunting her, 
purposely trying to get her to talk.

Joy looked up, catching Mulder's gaze and holding it.

"What about you?" she said, clearly passing the 
conversation on to somebody else.

Mulder shook his head.  "What about me?"

"You told some pretty good stories the other night.  How 
about telling us about a few more of your X-Files."

Mulder shrugged with a rueful smile, pulling his hand 
away from Wim's carrier and glancing over at Bill.  He 
knew better than to talk about his and Scully's work in 
front of her older brother.  "I don't know if that would 
be appropriate conversation right now," he said.  He 
wiped his hands on his napkin and reached for his beer, 
taking a swig, then glancing over at Scully, her face 
void of expression behind her dark glasses.  "But I 
*can* tell you about something pertinent to our 
vacation..."

~

Scully watched as everyone around the table sat up 
slightly, eyebrows raised attentively.  Mulder leaned 
forward again, addressing Matthew, who was curled on 
Tara's lap, sucking his thumb, staring glassy-eyed at 
Mulder.

"Have you ever heard of pirates?" Mulder asked.  Matthew 
nodded, his eyes going wider.  Mulder raised one eyebrow 
and nodded conspiratorially.  "Well then, do you realize 
that this island used to be one of the biggest pirate 
hide-outs *ever*?"

Matthew's thumb fell out of his mouth as his jaw 
dropped, forming an 'o' of amazement.  The others at the 
table smiled, and Scully smiled with them, partly 
because of Matthew, and partly because of Mulder's 
delivery.

"In fact, the most famous pirate of all lived -" Mulder 
stopped and waggled his eyebrows at Matthew - "not far 
from *this very beach*."

"*Dis* beach?" Matthew gasped, his eyes gone completely 
round.

"Well, not this *exact* beach, but close," Mulder 
replied.  "At Ocracoke."  He glanced around the table, 
and seeing that he held everyone's attention, he began.  
"Blackbeard was the worst, meanest, *ugliest* pirate 
ever to sail the seven seas," he said.  "People 
everywhere were scared of him, he was so mean.  In fact, 
he'd been known to make people walk the plank just for 
looking at him the wrong way."

"How dey wook?" Matthew asked while the adults chuckled 
softly.

Mulder narrowed his eyes keenly at the little boy.  
"Kinda like you're looking right now," he teased.  
Matthew grinned and shook his head with embarrassed 
delight, hiding his face behind his hands.  Mulder 
smiled, and looked up to meet Scully's fond smile.  He 
gave her a wink and went on, affecting a melodic 
cadence.

"Well, one day Blackbeard decided he'd had enough of 
pirating around and making people walk the plank, so he 
figured he'd drop anchor and make a home for himself and 
his pirate friends.  And he thought he'd build that 
pirate haven right here, at Ocracoke."

As Mulder spoke, Matthew wriggled down from his mother's 
lap and ran around the table, climbing up to sit on the 
bench next to Mulder.  He gazed up at him in awe.  "How 
many piwates?" he asked.

Mulder looked down at him seriously. "Lots of pirates," 
he said. "*Loads* of them."  Matthew's mouth fell open, 
and Mulder tried not to smile.  He lowered his voice, 
continuing his story.  "When the people who lived here 
found out that a bunch of pirates wanted to move in 
right next door - well, what do you think?"

Matthew stared up at him.  "Dey wuh afwaid," he said 
solemnly.  

Mulder nodded.  "They were *very* afraid," he said.  
"They didn't want a bunch of pirates whooping it up on 
their island. Think of the mess!" There was a ripple of 
laughter around the table.  "So they called for help, 
and the Royal Navy sent two big sailing ships, called 
sloops, under the command of Lieutenant Robert Maynard -
"

"Not woo-ten-ant!"  Matthew cried, placing a small hand 
on Mulder's arm and shaking his head emphatically from 
side to side.  "Commanduh, wike Daddy."

Mulder glanced at Bill with a slight grin, then nodded 
at Matthew.  "You know what, Matty - you're right.  He 
*was* a commander. So *Commander* Maynard sailed his 
sloops to Ocracoke - which isn't far at all from where 
we're sitting *right now* - and who do you suppose they 
found anchored in the channel?"

"Bwackbeewd," Matthew breathed, and Scully bit her lip 
to keep herself from laughing at the child's serious 
expression.  She reached out, giving Mulder's arm and 
affectionate stroke.

"Right again," Mulder told him, grinning softly as 
Matthew climbed up into his lap.  "So Maynard -" he 
paused, winked at Bill, then looked back at Matthew, 
"*Commander* Maynard sent two little boats ahead, to try 
to sneak around Blackbeard's pirate ship.  But 
Blackbeard was looking through his telescope, and he saw 
those little boats trying to sneak, and - BOOOM!"

Matthew - and a few of the others around the table - 
jumped. 

"BOOM!" Mulder roared again, and this time Matthew 
giggled. "Blackbeard had cannons on his pirate ship, and 
he fired on Commander Maynard's little boats.  And - as 
I'm sure you can imagine - that didn't make Commander 
Maynard a happy guy.  So Commander Maynard ran up his 
flag - right up to the top of his sloop - displaying his 
colors.  And you know what *that* meant, right?"

Matthew, mesmerized, shook his head.  

"When a ship displays its colors, it means they're 
starting a battle."

"Daddy's ship aw-ways has a fwag," Matthew replied.  "He 
fights piwates, too."

Mulder looked up and caught Bill's eye again.  Bill 
shook his head and looked down, hiding a smile.  "Well," 
Mulder said, turning back to Matthew.  "The flag on your 
daddy's ship is a little different.  Your daddy's ship 
always shows the United States' flag so everybody will 
know who he is when they see him..."

Scully glanced around the table at the individual faces 
of her family, each one focused on Mulder and Matthew as 
the story unfolded.  They were charmed - Mulder had a 
way with a story, as she knew well.  The low, rolling 
cadence and soft rhythm of his voice brought to mind the 
day she'd started to know Fox Mulder as he told her the 
story of his missing sister, and how he had vowed to 
find her.  Her mind skipped ahead to another time, much 
later, when Mulder had been talking and she'd lost track 
of what he was saying, watching his lips move and his 
eyes flash, hearing only the sound of his voice rising 
and falling, soft and intimate.  That night there was 
something different - something she'd never noticed in 
the sound of his voice.  *He's making love to me,* she'd 
realized then, that realization spawning another - he'd 
been doing it for a long time.

As he continued with his pirate tale, Mulder's hand 
slipped up her back and around her waist, resting there, 
the pads of his fingers softly caressing a counter 
rhythm to the song of his story.  It was almost as if he 
knew what she was thinking.  She shivered.

"Blackbeard saw what he thought was an empty ship," 
Mulder was saying.  "And he thought to himself, 'I'm 
gonna go take over that empty sloop over there' -"

"Utt-oh," Matthew droned.

"- so Blackbeard pulled his pirate ship up next to the 
sloop that he *thought* was empty, and with their swords 
held high, Blackbeard and his pirates charged onto the 
deck -!"

Scully let out a small, inaudible sigh.  The night of 
that life-altering epiphany they had made love for real, 
slow and tender, his voice warm and whispery soft as 
they learned each other's bodies.  She'd loved Mulder 
before, but she knew that night she had made a choice to 
love him without condition.  She had accepted him into 
her life, as her life.

Unconditionally.  

The word rolled around inside her head, turning over and 
over in her mind as Mulder finished his tale. 

"...at that moment, Commander Maynard and his men jumped 
out of their hiding places -!"

"He twicked him!" Matthew cried triumphantly.  Mulder 
nodded, pitching his voice low and serious.

"Blackbeard and his pirates had been *tricked*," he 
said, "and so they had to fight Commander Maynard and 
his men. They fought on and on - and Blackbeard's 
pirates were fierce fighters - but Commander Maynard's 
sailors were too much for them, and one by one, the 
pirates were beaten back, and Blackbeard found himself 
helpless on the deck of the sloop.  Blackbeard fought 
and fought, but he was no match for Commander Maynard.  
With one final blow from the Commander, the pirate king 
fell dead."  Mulder paused for breath and dramatic 
effect, and glanced around the table. He caught Scully's 
eye briefly and gave her side a gentle squeeze.  Then he 
took a deep breath and continued, his voice quiet and 
mysterious:

"To be absolutely sure that Blackbeard was *truly* dead, 
and would never terrorize the people of the Outer Banks 
again, Commander Maynard cut off Blackbeard's head, and 
had his body thrown overboard.  And you know..." 
Mulder's voice lowered even further, and he looked 
Matthew squarely in the eye.  "Years later, some of 
Commander Maynard's sailors - men who had been there on 
that sloop and saw Blackbeard's body thrown into the sea 
- well *they* say that old Blackbeard's body actually 
*swam* around the Navy ship *seven* times before it 
finally sank to its watery grave."

Matthew sat with his eyes transfixed on Mulder, his 
mouth still hanging open.  "What about his head?" he 
asked in wonder, causing the others to bite back their 
smiles.  Mulder blinked once.

"He fed it to the other pirates with some fava beans and 
a nice Chianti," Charlie quipped, causing a rush of 
groans and grimaces, the magic of the moment broken.

"Yuck!"  Matthew exclaimed, making a face of disgust.  
Everyone laughed, and the boy climbed down off Mulder's 
lap and ran excitedly back over to his mother.  "Mommy, 
I wanna fight piwates wike daddy!"

Tara smoothed his hair down on the back of his head.  
"Baby, daddy doesn't fight pirates.  He works in 
telemetry."

Scully closed her eyes and drew in a long breath, 
feeling Mulder's grip around her waist tighten in 
response.  It had been a long, soul-searching day.  And 
while she still felt conflicted, she was sure of one 
thing.  Even if the details didn't work out the way she 
might want them to, she knew that she would try her best 
to deal with whatever Mulder could give her.  If it 
meant keeping their lives individually defined, 
separate, at least for the time being, then she'd just 
have to learn how to accept that and remember to count 
her blessings.  She'd seen the alternative.

"Wow..." Charlie said, cracking his knuckles.  
"Lieutenant to Commander in less than five seconds.  
That's gotta be the fastest promotion since you raised 
Captain Gordon an entire grade in a single afternoon, 
Bill."

Bill groaned and rolled his eyes with a rueful smile.  
Tara turned to look at him, her eyes twinkling.  Bill 
shook his head at her, trying to discourage the story, 
but Tara only turned toward Charlie.  "What's that 
about?" she asked, smiling deviously. "Who's Captain 
Gordon?"

Charlie grinned, and glanced at his brother.  His grin 
turned to full blown laughter as Bill dropped his chin 
to his chest with another groan.  "Do you want to tell 
the story, Billy-boy?" Charlie asked.

Bill shook his head and looked up with exaggerated 
indignity.  "And deprive you of the pleasure?"

"Well then," Charlie began, hunching forward with this 
elbows against the edge of the table.  He tucked his 
hair behind one ear and glanced around the table. "When 
we were in San Diego, Bill and I both caddied at one of 
the military golf courses -"

"Not at the same time," Bill amended quietly.

"No, but they were still telling this story when I got 
there," Charlie said, chuckling.  "Anyway - it was 
always really competitive among the caddies, you know - 
everyone always wanted the highest ranking officers when 
they went out, because usually the higher the rank, the 
better the tip -"

"Except Admiral Masterson," Bill murmured with a smile.

"Well no, not that crabby old fart," Charlie agreed, 
causing Matthew to giggle.  "Nobody ever wanted to get 
stuck with that guy -"

"Well I certainly hope you were a little more respectful 
than *that* when you went out with the man," Maggie 
chided lightly.  Charlie smiled his most charming smile 
at his mother.

"Of *course* we were respectful, Mother," he crooned, 
giving the rest of the table a theatrically obvious 
wink. Maggie tsk'd and Charlie continued.  "So, anyway -
" he glanced at his brother. "You were what - a junior 
or a senior in high school?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Bill said, beginning to laugh 
softly.

"And Bill's the big man in the caddy-shack - Mister 
Junior ROTC, Mister 'I'm older than you so watch it or 
I'll kick your -'"

"Oh come on, I was never that bad," Bill laughed.

"Yes you were," Charlie said, going on.  "So it's this 
weekend when nobody's going out - there's no one rating 
higher than Petty Officer on the roster - and none of 
the caddies are making any tips.  Well, the clubhouse 
rings down, says they've got Lieutenant-someone-or-
other, and a *Captain* Gordon on their way to the first 
tee, and who's gonna take them...?  *Well* -" Charlie 
paused and rolled his eyes.  "Of course everyone jumped 
to take the Captain out - that was a guaranteed good 
tip, you know?  But Mister ROTC here -" he glance at 
Bill, who chuffed and shook his head.  "Bill here took 
the Captain for himself, and gave the Lieutenant to his 
friend Pete."

"My goodness - Peter Kazalski," Maggie mused fondly. "I 
haven't thought of him in ages." 

"And what happened?" Tara asked, sitting forward 
eagerly.

Charlie grinned and looked toward his brother.  "You 
sure you don't want to tell it?" he asked.  Bill shook 
his head and draped his arm along the railing behind he 
and Tara.

"Oh no, by all means," he said with a smirk.

"Ok, so Bill takes this Captain Gordon out, and he's 
doing everything he can to impress this guy - Bill 
always went ga-ga over the officers, you know - telling 
them all how he was going to the Academy, how Dad was a 
Captain - or I guess Dad was still Commander at the time 
-"

"That's right," Maggie said.

"So Bill's tripping all over himself, kissing this 
Gordon guy's ass - never mind that the guy's only like 
twenty-two or something - barely older than Bill was 
himself -"

"He wasn't *that* young," Bill insisted.

"Okay, so *maybe* this guy was twenty-five," Charlie 
said. "But he's out there with his buddy the Lieutenant, 
who's the same age as him - I mean, warning bells should 
have been going off or something -" Charlie was 
laughing. "But Bill's treating this guy like a prince, 
sucking up big time, trying to console the guy when he 
starts losing to the Lieutenant -"

"He was a terrible golfer," Bill said with chagrin, and 
there was laughter around the table.

"And toward the end of the round, the two guys - the 
Lieutenant and this Captain Gordon - are getting kind of 
competitive, and I guess they started trash-talking and 
whatnot. Well -" Charlie looked pointedly at Bill, who 
was watching with an expression of puckered amusement. 
"Our Billy-boy didn't like the idea of a junior-grade 
officer speaking disrespectfully to a *Captain* - even 
if they were off-duty and out of uniform -"

Bill sighed audibly.

"- so finally the Lieutenant birdies the last hole, and 
says something to Gordon...and Bill decided he'd had 
enough, and butts in to give this Lieutenant a lecture 
on proper military courtesy and conduct, and acceptable 
forms of address between an officer and his superior -"

"Oh no -!" Tara cried, biting her lip with amusement and 
dismay, turning to give her husband a look of empathy. 
"Oh honey - you didn't -"

"He did," Charlie said, grinning enough to split his 
face, his eyes glittering. "And apparently the 
Lieutenant just stood there while Bill went off on his 
tirade, telling the guy how 'a Lieutenant should treat 
his Captain with a little respect -!'" Charlie stopped 
to clear his throat and compose himself before he 
finished his story. "And that's when the guy - the 
Lieutenant - just kind of looks at Bill, and he looks at 
Gordon, and he starts laughing, and he says to Bill: 
'He's *army*, you moron.'"

Everyone at the table - with the exception of Joy and 
Matthew - erupted in hearty, sympathetic laughter.  
Joy's brows came together in confusion while the others 
laughed and aww-ed.

"So he wasn't really a captain?" she asked.

"A captain in the army is four ranks below a navy 
captain," Maggie explained to her. "*Captain* Gordon was 
essentially the same rank as the Lieutenant."

"Needless to say, I didn't get much of a tip that 
afternoon," Bill murmured.  He had gone slightly red in 
the face, but he was smiling.

Joy nodded her understanding.  Across the table, Charlie 
was hooting with laughter, wiping his wrist along the 
outside corners of his eyes. "I used to love hearing 
Pete tell that story," he giggled.

"Oh, poor honey," Tara cooed, putting her hand to her 
husband's face and leaning in to kiss his cheek.  The 
laughter at the table subsided slowly as everyone 
finished their last bites and swallowed their last sips.  
Mulder turned his head to look at Scully, resting his 
chin on his shoulder.  She looked up and her eyes met 
his over the rim of her sunglasses.  She gave him a soft 
smile, and he felt her knuckles brush against his leg 
under the table.

Their waitress had returned to the table and started to 
stack their plates, while a young tow-headed busboy 
began the task of clearing away the mounds of discarded 
crab-shells.  The waitress looked at Charlie with an 
expectant smile.  "So," she said.  "How'd you do?"

Charlie looked up at her with a cheerful smile, and then 
down at the pile of scraps in front of him.  He did a 
quick count, and grinned.

"I do believe," he said, looking back up at the waitress 
triump