From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: Wed, 7 Mar 2001 12:19:06 -0600
Subject: A Day in the Life by Philemom
Source: direct

Reply To: egbement@yahoo.com


Disclaimer: Not mine, never were
Classification: MSR, humor. . . completely angst-
free
Summary:  Just one day out of their lives, but 
sometimes one day can change everything
Timeline: Post season 8, but in my own world 
again.  Precursor to my other fic, Bedtime Story.  
Takes place about four years earlier.
Archive: Just let me know
Feedback: Bring a little joy to a stay home mom's 
day.  egbement@yahoo.com


A Day in the Life
By Philemom


"Scully!"

"What?"

"There's got to be some trick to this."

"Trick to what?"

"Getting Meg to put the food in her mouth and not 
in her hair," Mulder yelled back.  "Or in my hair, 
or on the floor," he muttered to himself. 

"You may want to wait until she opens her mouth," 
Scully yelled back from the bathroom.

"Oh, that's helpful," Mulder said sarcastically, 
but quietly.  Since Scully was presently throwing 
up like a sailor 24 hours after shore leave, he 
kept his comments to himself.   

"Oh God," Scully moaned and Mulder shot a worried 
glance in her direction.  Checking to make sure 
that Meg was secured in the chair, he walked over 
to the door of their bedroom and saw her kneeling 
at the altar.

"Are you okay?" Mulder asked, wetting a washcloth 
for her.

"I'm fine, now.  If I ever buy clams again, shoot 
me.  Where's Meg?" Scully asked as she rose from 
the floor, flushed and rinsed her mouth with 
Listerine.

"Still in her high chair," Mulder said, puzzled.

"You left her alone?" Scully said in horror.

"She's secured and she's not strong enough to 
knock herself over," Mulder responded, puzzled.

"It's not that," Scully said as she nearly ran 
past him.  She stopped when she reached the 
kitchen, a hand flying to her forehead.  "It's 
that."

"Good God, Scully.  She was alone for maybe thirty 
seconds," Mulder said in soft awe at the spectacle 
his daughter had made of herself.  Oatmeal covered 
every spare centimeter within Meg's reach.  The 
high chair, her hair, her face, her clothes, the 
walls, the floor.

"That's all it takes," Scully commented with the 
wisdom of motherhood.  "Come on, help me clean 
this up.  Once oatmeal dries, it's harder to 
remove than cement."

Scully took charge of the kitchen, and put Mulder 
to work bathing Meg.  Filling the tub, he tried to 
remove her outfit with the least amount of oatmeal 
transference.  It wasn't working.

"This must be mutant oatmeal, Miss Megan," Mulder 
explained to his daughter as she lay on the 
bathroom rug.  "It seems to be replicating 
itself."  Meg only cooed and shoved a hand in her 
mouth.

"Sure," Mulder grumbled softly.  "You'll put that 
in your mouth, but not food.  How are you ever 
supposed grow if you don't eat?"  Suddenly, he had 
a vision of a teenage Meg getting ready for a 
date.  With a boy.  "On second thought, kiddo, you 
eat as little as you want."

Scully finished in the kitchen just as Mulder 
finished the bath.

"All clean?" she asked, walking into the bedroom 
they shared with Meg.

"Depends on what you mean by clean," Mulder 
responded, turning slighly so Scully could get the 
full effect.  He was still dripping.

"What happened?" Scully asked, not even trying to 
contain the laughter.

"I guess Meg felt remorse over the amount of 
oatmeal she flung at me, and decided Daddy needed 
a bath, too."

A contented silence draped the three of them as 
Scully watched Mulder dress their daughter.  A 
wide eyed Meg stared back at them and then kicked 
her legs in the air.  When Mulder reached under 
the table for a new outfit, Meg grabbed her foot 
and investigated it the only way she could.

"How does she do that?" Mulder asked softly, 
marveling at his daughter's agility.

"What, put her foot in her mouth?" Scully asked, a 
smile turning at the corners of her mouth.  "She 
must get that from you."

Mulder looked down at Scully and then pulled her 
into his arms.

"Mulder," Scully said on a shriek, "you're 
soaked."

"Do you care?" he asked, green eyes connecting 
with blue.

"No," she said on a sigh as she raised on her toes 
to meet his mouth.  

Scully pulled back after a few minutes and pushed 
Mulder away from her.  "You'd better change or 
you'll be late for work."

"You could help me and I'll be very late for 
work," Mulder leered.

"Get changed and get out, G-man," Scully smiled as 
she picked Meg up off the table propped her on her 
hip.  "We've got girl stuff to do today."

"What girl stuff?" Mulder asked, moving towards 
the closet.

"Just the usual getting ready for a big date girl 
stuff," Scully laughed.

"You've got a date tonight?" he asked, loving the 
playful side of her he didn't see often enough to 
suit him.  

"Um-hmm.  He's a big important FBI agent," she 
heaved a dramatic sigh and placed a hand to her 
chest.  

"Oh.  Lucky guy," Mulder responded.

"He might be," Scully shot him a look and then 
left the room.

Once Mulder left, Scully sat at the table and 
opened her planner.  Since she'd left the Bureau 
for maternity leave, she didn't have much cause to 
use it, but tried to keep it current anyway.  
Paging through the past few weeks, she smiled at 
all the blank pages.  No expense notations, no 
case notes, no red circles.

No red circles.

"Oh my God," Scully whispered, and then proceeded 
to flip through the planner again, this time with 
a purpose.


Mulder arrived at work, half an hour late and 
whistling.

"Agent Mulder, if I live to be a hundred, I'm 
never gonna get used to that sight," Skinner 
commented when he met up with Mulder in the 
hallway outside the office.

"What sight is that, sir?"

"You smiling," he noted.  Doggett didn't alter his 
position, or take his feet off his desk as they 
walked into the office, but Skinner's comment gave 
him the opening he needed.

"That's something I've been meaning to ask, since 
you're both here," Doggett said.

"What?" Mulder was the first to answer.

"When I first got here, it was to find you.  In 
trying to do that, I interviewed everyone and 
their brother until I was blue.  Turns out you're 
supposed to be this dark, moody guy.  I don't know 
Skinner, but I haven't seen that Agent Mulder yet, 
have you?"

Skinner only placed a hand to his mouth to choke 
back a laugh.

"What are you saying, Doggett?"

"That I'm about to start checking your back yard 
for pods," he said, as seriously as he could.

When no one said anything, he continued.  "So what 
happened to the old Mulder?'

Skinner and Mulder answered simultaneously.  
"Meg."

A few hours later, as the partners made their way 
through a mountain of paperwork, Doggett leaned 
back in his chair and cleared his throat.

"What is it, Doggett?" Mulder asked.

"I'm just curious about something," when Mulder 
didn't respond, he continued.  "You've moved in 
with Dana, and you're raising Meg together, 
right?"

"Right," he said cautiously.

"Then why is Dana's last name still Scully?"

Mulder opened his mouth to answer, and then 
clamped it shut again.  He wanted to tell Doggett 
it was none of his business.  But he knew that 
would be just be transferrence.  After all, he'd 
been asking himself that question almost daily 
since his daughter's birth.



"You're quiet tonight," Mulder commented after the 
waiter left to place their orders with the 
kitchen.   He didn't want to admit concern, but 
she'd been almost too quiet since he came home 
that night.  And he didn't think it was because 
Meg was with a baby sitter for the first time.

Then again, he wasn't a font of conversation 
himself. 

"Sorry, I have a lot on my mind," Scully replied 
softly.

"Me, too," Mulder admitted.

Scully looked up at him, their eyes connected and 
silence reigned again.  Both of them were trying 
to find the right words, both were failing.

"There's something I need to say, but I'm not sure 
how," Scully began tentatively.  When Mulder's 
face registered both shock and dread, she amended 
quickly.  "It's not that, I promise."

"Then what?" Mulder asked.

Before Scully could answer, strains of music 
drifted to their table from the small band playing 
in the back of the restaurant.  He only needed to 
see Scully's face to remember the song.  Twilight 
Time.

"Dance with me," Mulder said suddenly, lifting her 
to standing and guiding her to the small dance 
floor in front of the band.  He needed more time 
to phrase his question, and if they were dancing, 
he'd get a reprieve.

As their bodies kept time with the music, they're 
eyes never broke contact.  When the song ended, 
they stopped moving but stayed on the dance floor.  
It was now or never.

"Mulder," she said.

"Scully," he said.

"I'm pregnant."  "Marry me?" They said at the same 
time.

"What?" came both replies, again in unison.

And as the question and statement sunk in to their 
intended recipients, Mulder laughed and clasped 
Scully to him, spinning her around.  When her feet 
returned to the floor, she noticed Mulder's face 
had lost its smile.  And she knew why.

She reached up to place a hand on his cheek.  
"Yes," she said simply.

"Yes, what?" he asked, his face blank and his eyes 
unwavering.

"Yes, I'll marry you," Scully answered, beginning 
to wonder if she'd heard him right.

"Are you proposing to me, Scully?" Mulder took a 
step back and placed a hand near his heart.  "I 
just don't know what to say.  This is so sudden."

And then he couldn't say anything, because the 
smile that Dana Scully bestowed upon him was one 
he'd never seen before.  It wasn't gratitude, it 
wasn't relief, it wasn't appreciation.

"I love you, too," Mulder answered the words she 
didn't speak, but he heard just the same.

-end-