From: Neoxphile@aol.com
Date: Sat, 19 Jun 2010 12:44:21 EDT
Subject: The Family G-Man Season Ten - chapters 125-127 by Neoxphile and FelineFemme
Source: direct

Title: The Family G-Man Season Ten - chapters 125-127
Authors: Neoxphile and FelineFemme
Feedback: Feedback: neoxphile@aol.com, be8opcat1013@yahoo.com
Rating: mostly R with NC-17 moments
Spoilers: Seasons 1-9
Category: Alternate Reality, Snark, Family Fic, plus a dollop Angst
for the beginning (and despite what chapter one leads you to believe,
this is *not* a character death story)

Disclaimer: So yeah, we're going to be borrowing CC's characters, and
the idea behind "The Family Man," which put a twist on "It's a Wonderful
 Life" 
which blatantly copied "A Christmas Carol." We hope the print doesn't get
blurry from being a copy of a copy of...

Website: with pictures! http://www.mulderscreek.com/familygman.html

Summary: 
In this final season Mulder and Scully complete their family and start the
ir 
new career, leaving Doggett and Reyes in charge of the X-Files office. 
Before things go full circle, Mulder discovers something important that wa
s 
kept from him in his old life.

~*~*~
Season Ten - chapters 125-127
~*~*~
 
Chapter One Hundred and Twenty Five
"Spooktacular Halloween Episode"

Mulder-Scully Home
Late September 2003 

A gust of wind rocks some of the smaller trees in the backyard, and a
few more of April's flowers shed their petals. Mulder looks toward
them for a moment, thinking about how remarkable it is that she has
any summer flowers left at all in the fall, before turning his eyes
back to the task at hand.

"Hands a little wider apart, Buddy."

William squints up at his father, and moves his fingers another inch
apart. His small windbreaker crinkles as he shifts.

"You've got it."

The toddler chortles with delight when the ball Mulder throws him
lands gently in his out-stretched hands. Mulder has been trying to
teach him to play catch for the past ten minutes, and it's the first
time his youngest son has managed to catch the ball.

Goodbyes float across the yard and car doors slam in their driveway,
indicating that Scully's guests are leaving; Mulder had said goodbye
himself fifteen minutes before, and he'd been sure they'd left
already. The back door opens soon after.

"Hey." Scully, with Zoe on her hip, stands on her toes to give Mulder
a kiss on the cheek.

"What did you and Monica talk about?" he asks while lobbing the ball
to William again.

"She and John are looking to buy a house. They want something with
enough bedrooms that none of the kids have to share."

"I catched it 'gain!" William crows.

"You sure did!" Mulder grins at his little boy before turning back to
Scully. "It's about time. Luke and Gibson would probably really
appreciate having their own rooms, being teenage boys and all."

"I'm going to pretend that I have no idea what you mean." Her cheeks
turn slightly pink, making it obvious that she knows exactly what he
was implying.

"Okay, you do that. We'll see how long that lasts once we've got five
teenage boys of our own."

"Are you sure we can't raise them Catholic? The religion has rules
against that sort of...thing."

"Don't make me call Charlie and ask him how effective a deterrent the
rules were."

"Mulder, you're terrible!" But she smiles at him. "I wish there was
something we could do to help John and Monica with their house
hunting."

"You know, it's too bad that I grew up as Bill Mulder's son. If I'd
grown up instead with..." Mulder trails off, looking at the
impressionable little boy waiting for his next toss. "...him, I might
know the right people."

Her brow furrows in confusion. "Who, realtors?"

"No, the type of people who could disappear a family with a five
bedroom house in this neighborhood."

"It would be nice to have them living nearby," Scully says wistfully,
"but I'm not sure they're thinking about DC."

"Doesn't having our closest friends slash former coworkers living
down the street strike you as a little sitcom-y?" Mulder asks.

She shrugs. "So?"

"Aww, never mind."

~*~*~

Later

"Mom, can I ask you a question?" Page asks, coming into the room
while Scully changes Brianna into her pajamas. Zoe is already dozing
in her crib. "It's about having babies."

Oh boy, Scully thinks but doesn't say. "Sure, Sweetie. What's on your
mind?"

"Well... I was talking to Hannah, and she said that Monica and her
dad are gonna have a baby."

"They are," Scully agrees, wondering when the question will come into
the conversation.

"But they're not married. Don't people need to be married to have a
baby?" Page asks, looking confused. "I thought they did."

"Actually...no, people don't have to be married to have a baby. It's
often better for the baby if they are, but single people can have
babies too."

"Wait, single? Like Jamie's mom after her divorce?" Page looks
worried. "Does that mean that Monica and the baby aren't gonna live
with Hannah and Luke and Gibson?"

"Don't worry. John and Monica are buying a house. Hannah's little
brother or sister, and Monica, will live with her."

"Mom, if they're going to live together, why don't they just get
married?"

Scully snorts. "John wonders that too, Page, but Monica says she
doesn't believe in marriage."

"That's so weird."

"I think it's a little strange too," Scully admits. 

"Well, I believe in marriage," Page declares. "I'm gonna get
married."

"Oh, are you? To who?" Scully teases.

"Dunno, I haven't met him yet. Maybe I'll meet him at work, like you
did Daddy."

"Maybe you will."

"Can I ask another question about babies?"

Scully braces herself for the question she's been waiting for as the
kids get older: how come you and Daddy only got married seven months
before I was born? "Sure."

"Does it bother you that both of the babies said Dada way sooner than
Mama?"

"Um..." Scully is so surprised by this completely different line of
questioning that she can't think for a moment.

"Mom?" Page looks mildly concerned.

Three months after uttering their first words, Zoe and Brianna still
say Dada a lot more often than Mama. "No. Dada is easier for a baby
to say, so they often say it first."

"Was my first word Dada, too?"

Scully smiles. "Surely I've told you the story about your first
word."

"I don't remember."

"Let me tell you then. Daddy and I were on a case at a zoo..."

~*~*~ 

JCTTIOT Film Studio
October 7th, 2003

"That's a wrap!"

Mulder stands and walks off the stage, eager to remove his makeup. He
knows why the studio insists on putting him and Reed in makeup too,
but he's never quite felt comfortable with how it feels on his skin.

Just before he reaches his dressing room, he spots a familiar bald
head and makes a detour. As he gets closer, his eyes widen in
surprise: he wasn't mistaken. "Skinner? What are you doing here?"

"Mulder."

"Did Wayne get you in to watch the show tape?" Mulder asks, wondering
if Skinner was there earlier and just didn't get noticed.

"No, actually-"

"Skinman!" Wayne calls across the studio. He makes his way to Skinner
quickly. "I was wondering where you went."

"I got lost after hitting the head," Skinner says gruffly.

This doesn't surprise Mulder because visitors to the studio often
find navigating away from the restrooms confusing. The first time the
kids visited the studio, it had taken fifteen minutes to find Jared.

Wayne seems to suddenly realize that Mulder is with Skinner. "Mulder,
why don't you call Dana, Mary, and Aldous? It was going to be a
surprise, but considering you've figured it out..."

"Figured what out?" Mulder asks, bewildered.

His boss makes a shooing motion with his hands, so Mulder returns to
the stage where his wife is chatting with the other doctor, and being
glared at by Reed for no discernible reason. "Hey, Wayne wants to
talk to us."

"What, now? Can't we change first?" Reed asks disdainfully.

"You'll have to ask Wayne," Mulder says, looping his arm through
Scully's. Even Mary Green is staring at Reed's childish behavior.

Reed continues to fume like a primadonna for a minute before joining
the rest of his cast-members in front of Wayne. Wayne beams at them,
and Mulder wonders if he's the only one who feels uneasy. Scully and
Mary don't seem to, and Reed looks so put out anyway that it's hard
to tell, so he assumes that he is.

"Mary, Aldous, I'd like to introduce you to Walter Skinner, assistant
director of the FBI," Wayne says, and Reed immediately interrupts.

"Don't tell me, he's the one who authorized these two-" Reed hooks
his thumb in Mulder and Scully's direction. "-wasting taxpayers'
money."

Like so many people before him, Wayne simply ignores Reed's
outbursts. "Like Dana and Mulder used to be, AD Skinner here is
involved in paranormal cases. He's graciously agreed to take part in
our Halloween episode."

"As a guest?" Scully asks hopefully.

Wayne shakes his head. "No. We're doing something really special for
Halloween this year. A live episode!"

For once the quartet is on the same page, and they exchange alarmed
looks. Wayne pretends not to notice, but Skinner clearly does.

"The network is going to call it the Spooktacular Halloween Episode,"
Wayne adds.

"Ridiculous!" Reed grumbles. Mulder can't find it within himself to
disagree.

"What's the, uh, theme of the episode?" Mary asks nervously.

Wayne puts his arm around Skinner's shoulder. "That's where AD
Skinner comes in. His agents have been asked to investigate a
haunting in Laurel Canyon."

"What, Houdini's ghost?" Mulder asks with a smirk. To his surprise,
Wayne nods.

"Exactly."

"But the Houdini mansion burned down before I was born," Mulder
protests. "You don't really mean to have us spend an hour on live TV
stumbling around a burned out building."

"Think of the atmosphere, Mulder!" Wayne enthuses. "Ruins have so
much more haunting cred than a boring intact house."

"Uh..."

"And the whole hour won't be taken up by the four of you, well six
actually when you count AD Skinner's agents, 'stumbling in the dark.'
Actually-" Wayne turns his head to look at Mary Green. "Mary won't be
joining you."

"I won't?"

"No. You'll be in Scranton, Pennsylvania during that hour."

"Oh good, I've always wanted to go to Scranton," Mary says faintly.
Scully gives her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

"Why?" Reed demands to know. "What could possibly be of interest in
Scranton?"

Mulder wonders the same thing, but doesn't bother to ask as well.

"The Houdini Museum," Wayne tells them. "Houdini died on Halloween
night in 1926, and for ten years after his wife Bess conducted an
annual Halloween seance to try and contact him. After that a group of
magicians continued the practice for many years. These days the
annual seance is conducted in the museum. So, Mary will go there so
our viewers can observe that, too."

"So..." Scully says slowly, "You're expecting a 50% failure rate at
best, correct?"

"I don't follow," Wayne admits.

"We can't see a ghost in California and have it show up for a chat at
a seance in Pennsylvania at the same time," Scully points out. "Even
a ghost can't be in two places at once."

Wayne shrugs. "I don't think the producers are expecting either place
to really have a cameo by Harry Houdini."

"Then why do it?" Mulder asks.

"Word has it that a new show for the 2004 season is in development -
a team of ghost hunters will be investigating homes that the owners
claim are haunted."

"Why would anyone watch something like that?" Scully wonders.
"They're sure to see week after week of nothing. I'm pretty sure
that's the point of that family channel show Scariest Places on Earth
and nothing ever happens on that show."

"Nothing ever happens on any show on the Family Channel," Mulder
mutters.

Wayne ignores Mulder's interruption. "I don't know why, but the test
market suggests that viewers are eager for this sort of thing.
Producers thought we'd cash in early on that."

"Is that show, the ghost hunters one, going to be on the same network
as Jose Chung's, or a different one?" Reed asks.

"I don't think that's been fully hashed out, yet."

"Let's say it isn't," Reed says, "They wouldn't change this show to
parrot that one, would they?"

Wayne holds up his hand when they all start to protest. "That was one
of my first questions to the network execs. They said no, but they
are interested in making a similar show with a team of ghost hunters
of their own if the network doesn't get it. The ratings are too high
on this show to quote mess with what works end quote."

Mulder feels relief, and sees it mirrored on his costars' faces. "Say
Wayne, just how good are our ratings?"

"Um..."

~*~*~

Hoover Building
The Next Day

"Agents. Thank you for coming up here," Skinner says nervously.

Doggett is tempted to exchange a look with Reyes, but doesn't.
Something has obviously alarmed Skinner enough to be polite - Skinner
never thanks them for doing their job like this. He hopes that it is
nothing too awful.

"As of yesterday, there is a slight change of plans involving the
Laurel Canyon case," Skinner says, and both of his agents look at him
expectantly. "Um... it's going to be shelved until the end of the
month, at which time you will be accompanied by a film crew."

Reyes gives him a puzzled smile. "Our case is going to be filmed?"

Skinner shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "Yes."

She does not look less confused by his admission. "Why? Is it some
sort of internal audit to check that we are following procedures?"

"No."

"Then what?"

Skinner sighs. "You will also be accompanied by the cast of Jose
Chung's The Truth is Out There."

"We're what?" Doggett sputters in alarm. "Why on earth is this case
going to be televised? That is the intent, isn't it? There would be
no point to having them there, and filming it otherwise."

"I thought you would enjoy working with Mulder and Scully again,"
Skinner says evasively.

"Sir? Is our case going to be the basis of an episode of the TV
show?" Reyes asks plaintively.

Eventually Skinner nods. "The Halloween episode. The live Halloween
episode."

"Oh for God's sake," Doggett mutters. "Back when they agreed to do
the show, Mulder told me that the show's producer is a college friend
of yours. Does he have some sort of dirt on you? Did you go through a
cross-dressing phase, maybe? Accidentally kill a hooker while on
spring break in Bangkok?"

Skinner gives Doggett a look that could burn holes into him.
"Remember yourself, Agent Doggett."

Doggett holds up a hand in a make-peace gesture. "I'm not trying to
be insulting, Sir, I'm just trying to figure out what on earth this
man has done to deserve letting him disrupt the FBI not once, but
twice."

"Don't make mountains out of molehills, Agent Doggett. Being filmed
is no great hardship. I expected both of you to do an exemplary job
anyway, so this should not put any additional pressure on you."

"Have you watched the show?" Reyes asks unexpectedly. "The other
doctor, Mary Green, seems like a reasonable person, but that writer
Aldous Reed..." she breaks off shaking her head.

Doggett jumped in. "Hardly an episode goes by when viewers aren't
left wondering who pissed in his cornflakes."

Reyes nods. "Frankly, Sir, Reed is a di...uh, jerk."

"Be that as many, I'm sure that to trained professionals such as
yourselves can handle one cranky TV personality," Skinner says
dismissively.

Frustrated, Doggett and Reyes admit defeat to themselves. Whatever
Federman has on Skinner must be damn good, is all that Doggett can
conclude.

"The FBI has nothing to hide," Skinner says firmly. "This episode
provides the Bureau an opportunity to display a transparency that the
public often complains is lacking."

"So it's a public relations ploy."

Skinner does not reply to this assertion. "Federman said that you are
welcome to bring your kids, and they can watch with the film crew."

Doggett is not sure that he should thank Skinner for that, but he
does anyway.

~*~*~

The Doggett-Reyes home

When they get back to Doggett's place, his eyes scan the living room,
and he notices just how much of Monica's stuff is already in his
house. Though she has kept up the lease on her apartment, she
practically lives with them anyway. And, the cramming of her
belongings into the space as well only serves to highlight how small
it is. It didn't feel overly spacious when it was just him, Luke, and
Hannah, and now with Gibson and Monica, and a new baby on the way,
his home is beginning to remind him a sardine can.

"We have to move."

"What?" Reyes asks, not privy monologue that has just run through his
mind.

"I was just thinkin' about how small this place is. Made me wonder
about how we're gonna fit buying a house into our schedule."

"We'll manage."

"I sure hope so."

"So are we going to tell them?"

"Tell us what?" Luke asks as he and his brother and sister wander
into the living room as well.

Gibson looks at him. "She's thinking about Halloween, but that's all
I can figure out."

"Stop that!" Reyes looks exasperated. "Am I going to have to think
about brick walls around you?"

Gibson gives her a blank look.

She sighs. "You've never seen Village of the Damned."

"Nope."

Doggett whistles sharply, and everyone looks at him. "Skinner is
making us let the Jose Chung show tape the case we have in
California."

Luke looks impressed. "So you're gonna be on TV?"

"Yes," Doggett says morosely. 

"You should be psyched. Not everyone gets to be on TV," Luke
admonishes. "And you don't even have to eat bugs to do it."

"That's it. Nobody in this house is watching Fear Factor anymore."

"Aww!" All three of the kids groan, though only Hannah thinks he is
serious.

"When? When are you going to be on TV?" Doggett's daughter asks.

"Halloween night," Reyes tells her.

"And you are coming with us," Doggett tells them. "The producer said
that you guys can watch with the tech people."

"Cool!" Gibson exclaims with uncharacteristic enthusiasm.

"Well, at least somebody's happy about this." Doggett looks sour
still, so Reyes gives his arm a squeeze.

~*~*~

Mulder-Scully Home
October 31st, 2003
7 a.m.

Sammy follows Mulder from room to room as Mulder raids both the
laundry room and his closet for clothes. His oldest son has kept up a
steady stream of objections about his parents leaving.

"But what about trick-or-treating?" 

"What about it? Michelle and grandma Teena are going to take you."
Mulder is still surprised by his mother's offer, but grateful. "Just
because Mom and I aren't going to be here doesn't mean that you won't
have fun. You had fun last year, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but that was different," Sammy insists. "Won't Zoe and Brianna
be sad that you're not here for their birthday?"

"Sammy, your sisters are a year old. They have no idea of that
today's their birthday. It's not going to bother them at all that
were not going to celebrate their birthday until this weekend,"
Mulder does not add that it does bother Scully. That's no way to win
an argument with a determined eight-year-old. "In fact, they will
have more fun this weekend when mom and I have the whole day home,
unlike just at night we would have had if we'd gone to work as usual
today."

"But Dad!"

"Look, Kiddo. You are old enough to understand now that we have
certain obligations for work. We don't work for fun, we work because
we like to have things like heat, and food. I think you and your
siblings enjoy those sorts of things too."

"Yeah..." Sammy admits.

Mulder gives him a hug. "We should be home before you wake up
tomorrow. Your grandmother said she will check your candy for you, so
you can have some before bed. And, you can all stay up until the show
is over."

"Even William?"

"Even William. I doubt he'll care about the show, but he can stay up
too."

"And can we call our aunts' houses to see if our cousins can stay up
and watch too?" Sammy wheedles.

"If you do it right after school. I don't want you calling while
Missy or Samantha's families are having dinner."

"Good," Sammy gives his father a sidelong look. "Can you wake me up
when you get home? So I know your flight went good?"

Mulder stares at him for a second, comprehension dawning on him. He
and Scully have to break themselves up the habit of watching the news
when the kids are around. Sammy and April had been pretty broken up
after seeing a report about the plane crash a few weeks earlier.

"I will wake you up," Mulder promises.

"Okay."

Sammy doesn't look relieved, but at least he allows Mulder to finish
packing and gets off to the bus stop with his sisters.

~*~*~

Laurel Canyon, California
6:40 p.m. PST/ 9:40 p.m. EST

Although the producers of the Jose Chung show offered to provide the
technical support team a trailer, the man in charge, Dave Holt,
insisted that it would be better to just set up on the grounds, where
they would have more room than in a cramped vehicle.

It is in Dave's care that Doggett's children are left. Dave likes
children, so he has enjoyed showing the three of them the monitors.
He jabs a thick finger at another one of the monitors. "And that is
the Houdini Museum in Scranton. We have a live feed from there, so we
will be able to check in on the seance periodically."

"So there's another film crew there too, right?" Luke asks with
interest.

"Yup, but I'm the man who gets their feed onto the air too."

"Neat," Hannah says, though she is not actually paying attention to
the conversation. Instead her eyes are fixed on the shiny equipment
in front of them. Gibson keeps putting his hand out to keep her from
touching things.

"The nice thing about the seance is that they agreed to hold it at
ten this year," Dave tells them. "I don't know what time they usually
have it, but I'm pretty sure it's not at ten."

"Maybe they hold it at twelve," Hannah suggests. "'cause that's the
witching hour. But Luke do they have a ghosting hour?"

"Not that I know of."

Gibson looks at the burly tech supervisor. "Our dad thinks that Wayne
Federman has a lot of dirt on people, and that's why he gets them to
do what he wants. Is that true?"

Dave gives a surprise guffaw of laughter. "If it was, do you think
I'd be admitting it?"

"Just so you know, he reads minds," Hannah tells the tech supervisor.


"Okay..." Dave replies, obviously humoring her. "Let's see if we can
figure out where your folks are. We're going to begin airing in 20
minutes, so I am sure they are just about in place."

 ~*~*~

Scranton, PA
The Houdini Museum
6:59 p.m. PST/9:59 p.m. EST
 
In two time zones, the floor director in Pennsylvania, after briefly
relaying Dave's last-minute orders, gives the countdown in everyone's
earphones, 'And we're live in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five,
four, three,' and abruptly cuts off. Mulder, Scully, and Dr. Mary
Green give each other a brief look before Wayne Federman smiles
broadly for the camera as he stands on the relatively small stage,
red curtain and all behind him. 'Welcome to the Spooktacular
Halloween edition of 'Jose Chung's The Truth is Out There'. I'm Wayne
Federman, your host. Tonight, we're spotlighting a very special
guest, one we hope will give us the pleasure of his presence.

"To ensure the sighting of our elusive guest, we're even having a
live broadcast in two locations, in fact. And if you haven't been
paying attention to the TV ads these past couple of weeks, allow me
to enlighten you as to our guest: Mr. Harry Houdini!'

There's a smattering of applause, mainly from the regular seance
attendees.

'And in case you've been living under a rock, or aren't familiar with
American pop history, Harry Houdini was the greatest magician and
escape artist who ever lived, as you can see by the various displays
here that he escaped from,' he waves a hand around the room, which
has been lit up like a Christmas tree for this exact purpose.
 
Wayne pauses in front of a framed portrait of Harry Houdini, and the
scene switches to a second camera focused on the enlarged black and
white photograph. 'Like many entertainers, Harry Houdini wasn't his
real name, it was Ehrich Weiss, and because of his admiration for the
great magician Jean Eugene Robert-Houdin, whom he named himself
after, one could say he escaped living the life a relatively normal
man.' He smiles, and the main camera's back on him. 'The thing is,
after his mother passed away, he, like so many others during his time
and ours, sought to contact her. But he found the mediums to be using
the same types of tricks he used for his shows, so he made another
career out of debunking them. Still, Houdini figured that, out of
anyone, he would be the one to escape the silence of the afterlife
and pass a message on to his wife Bess.
 
'Thanks to Bess, we all know Houdini's last message, a code, really,
from their stage days: 'Rosabelle- answer- tell- pray, answer- look-
tell- answer, answer- tell'. Basically, what he meant to say was,
'Believe', which is what we are asking you to do, with the help of
our friends at The Houdini Museum in Scranton, Pennsylvania.' He
turns to a middle-aged blonde woman, 'Thank you for allowing us to be
a part of this, Dorothy Dietrich.' Dietrich nods, murmuring her
thanks and shaking his hand.

'And you in the television audience are already familiar with our
panel, Fox Mulder, Dr. Dana Scully, and Dr. Mary Green.' The three
regulars nod at the camera with the large '3' on it.
 
'We won't be hosting the seance, or test, as Houdini's wife would
call it, in this room. Instead, we will be holding it in a more,
shall we say, cosy room?' Wayne looks at Dorothy, who smiles a little
and nods. 'In fact, we'll be holding it where The Houdini Museum
always hosts their seances, in a room full of Houdini's memorabilia
and posters, is that correct?' he turns to the blonde woman, who nods
again. 'And if you're not familiar with the lovely Ms. Dietrich,
she's quite a formidable magician in her own right, performing stunts
even Houdini hadn't attempted.'
 
Dorothy tilts her head, which doesn't dislodge the long blonde
ponytail from her left shoulder. 'Well, just a couple, really,' she
says modestly, 'but after starting out doing magic tricks with
animals, most people know me as the woman who escapes from
straitjackets, catches bullets or saws men in half.'
 
'Whoa, remind me to be on your good side,' Wayne jokes, while Mulder
smiles unrepentantly. 'And you've been doing these seances on
Halloween?'
 
She nods. 'Well, this was the day Houdini died, and Bess Houdini
thought it only fitting. Of course, when the tenth seance failed, she
declared, 'Ten years is long enough to wait for any man!' and stopped
them. But she did ask her friend and magician William Gibson to
continue the tradition, and before Will died, he asked me to carry
on. It used to be held in New York over at the Magic Towne House
where Houdini used to perform, but I figured that location shouldn't
affect where one could summon the great escape artist, so I moved it
here. But I also hear that Houdini's ghost has made an appearance at
his old California mansion?' she raises an eyebrow.
 
Wayne nods, smiling. 'And that's why we're hosting the Halloween
edition of the Jose Chung show in two locations tonight. It's
possible that the clever escape artist could make himself known here
or,' he pauses, and the camera zooms in, 'in the very home where he
used to reside, and the ruins in which people claim to have sighted
the great Houdini. Find out along with us tonight if he should appear
here, or there.' His smile grows wider. 'In fact, I think we should
have a look at what actual FBI agents are investigating over in
Laurel Canyon, California.' He puts his hand to his ear. 'Agent
Reyes, can you hear me?'
 
~*~*~

Houdini's Mansion
Laurel Canyon, CA
7:15 p.m PST/10:15 p.m. EST
 
There's a slight delay, but the brunette agent, almost blending in
with the background, replies. 'Loud and clear,' Reyes says, and the
camera goes from a close-up to a wide pan of the area. It appears
she's accompanied by a couple of camera men and a couple of scowling
men, one who somewhat resembles the second Terminator in a suit and
tie, while the other is dressed like a stereotypical professor. From
the artificial lights of the road and the camera crew, the ruins of
the Houdini mansion look less like the remains of a house and more
like a giant abandoned play set, with the servant's quarters standing
in solitary gloom.
 
"Seen anything unusual yet?' Wayne says to a small TV monitor with
the California feed, although the audience only sees Agent Reyes.
 
The brunette woman smiles and shrugs. 'I wish,' she says, "So far,
just curious people wanting to know why the cameras are out here and
if they can be on TV, too.'
 
'Whoa-ho-ho oh-no, sorry, no can do, Miss FBI, legal stuff and all
that,' the host says, lapsing into his usual Wayne-speak for a
moment. "So tell me, how exactly is it that the FBI is investigating
the case of a man who's supposed to be decades dead?'
 
'Yes, perhaps you'd like to enlighten us taxpayers as to which drain
our money goes,' Aldous Reed says snidely.
 
To both Aldous' and Reyes' surprise, it's Doggett who answers.
'There've been so-called sightings around here for quite some time,
in spite of the place being deserted for decades. But recently, there
have been reports of would-be poltergeist activity around the area.
If it turns out to be some drunk teens, that's fine with me.' He
sighs, his eyes constantly scanning the premises, a carry-over from
both the Gulf War and being a beat cop in New York. 'But people have
gotten injured, especially since it's been bricks from the ruins.
It's possible with all the lights and cameras that we've scared off
the perpetrators, but if not,' and he slides his eyes over at Reed,
'you can deal with the consequences, can't you? After all, I don't
wanna waste taxpayers' money trying to evict a something like a
ghost.' And he turns away abruptly and walks off, not wanting to
waste either time or breath on the show's resident skeptic.
 
Reyes blinks, then smiles at the camera. 'What he said,' she says.
'It seems someone or something chooses his targets indiscriminately,
whether its locals or tourists, male or female, young or old, makes
no difference. The latest victim was a twenty-something tourist
couple driving by in a convertible, top down, of course.' She shakes
her head. 'We've set traps to try and catch the perpetrator in the
act, but so far, no luck.' Now she looks around. 'Like Agent Doggett
said, it's possible that our presence, with or without the cameras,
has spooked the spook, so to speak.'
 
'Agent Reyes, if I may,' Wayne interjects, and the scene goes back to
the Pennsylvania location, 'are you a believer? In the supernatural,
I mean?'
 
The director switches the feed back to California for her reply. She
smiles warmly. 'I believe in keeping an open mind, don't you?' she
says. 'After all, Houdini himself said, 'Magic is the sole science
not accepted by scientists, because they can't understand it.' And if
science can't explain everything, what can?'
 
'Not another loony-tunes believer,' Aldous groans. 'No wonder they
put me out here in the middle of nowhere.'
 
The camera crew roll their eyes but keep their cameras steady, so
well accustomed to the skeptic's theatrics. 'You're not in the middle
of nowhere, you're in California, and a somewhat well-traveled part
of it, judging by the constant traffic,' Reyes corrects him. 'And you
know, you're a believer, too.'
 
The skeptic looks positively scandalized by her accusation. 'I most
certainly am not,' he hisses.
 
She shakes her head, trying not to smile too widely when she realizes
that, even though he's not looking, Doggett's paying attention to the
conversation. 'I can definitively prove that you take something very
important on faith, rather than on your five senses.'
 
Reed lifts his chin, such as it is. 'Oh?'
 
'Your safety,' she says, her tone deceptively even.
 
'My safety?' Aldous repeats after a beat, a trifle higher than he
would've liked.
 
And now she smiles. 'You assume that because you're on national
television, that nothing would happen to you, correct? Yet you take
it on faith,' she emphasizes the word, 'that these camera men would
drop their equipment to help you, or that Agent Doggett and I would
protect you. But that could just be an assumption, based on the fact
that we are professionals in our respective fields, and not, say,
people who simply like to waste taxpayer money.' And she shrugs.
'Like I said, it's something you have to take on faith, since you've
never met Agent Doggett or me before, and you don't know how the
camera crew will react in a life-threatening situation. But don't
worry, we'd never let anything happen to you. Well, we'd /try/ not
to,' and out of Reed's sight, she winks at the camera.
 
It's at this point that Dave switches over to the commercial break
before the other FBI agent can join in taunting the skeptic on a
live, nationally-televised broadcast, no matter how entertaining that
would be. After all, it's the commercials that pay the bills, not the
verbal take-down of a pompous jerk.
 
~*~*~
 
The Mulder and Scully home
7:26 p.m. PST/10:26 p.m. EST
 
Most of the kids are miraculously asleep by this time, in spite of
all the Halloween goodies they've amassed. Perhaps it's because Teena
Mulder insisted they pick their 'most favorite candy' and save the
rest until their parents come back, and asked them to drink the warm
cider she made especially for them while they told her their scariest
stories and favorite costumes they wore.

Michelle, for her part, thought the woman was rather canny, in spite
of her rare visitations. "Okay, David and Jared are tucked in," she
tells the grandmother, who smiles and nods.
 
"Gramma Teena, how come Mommy and Daddy aren't with Uncle John and
Aunty Monica? Wouldn't that make more sense?" Page asks.
 
"Maybe," the white-haired woman answers, "but you'll notice that
there's quite a lot of people with your parents' friends. I'm sure
too many would scare off whoever they're trying to catch." She
doesn't mention Mulder telling her that Wayne decided at the last
moment that most of them ought to go to the museum instead to avoid
Reed's inevitable temper tantrums.
 
"Yeah, but they're stuck with that meanie," the little blonde girl
scowls. "If Mommy and Daddy were there, they'd catch the bad guys in
no time."
 
Teena Mulder smiles in the faith her granddaughter has in her
parents. "Well, I think your 'aunt' and 'uncle' want to catch the bad
guy by themselves, and they should be allowed to do that, right?"
 
Page opens her mouth to protest, then nods. "Yeah, I guess." Then she
says, "Sammy, do you-" But her question dies when she sees her
younger brother asleep on the floor, facing the TV. "I can't believe
he's sleeping, he's the one who wanted to watch Mommy and Daddy the
most," she declares.
 
"Then perhaps it's a good thing we're recording this program," Teena
says, looking at the nanny, who nods. It's a good thing the nanny had
the foresight to set up the machine, even after all this time and
Fox's repeated efforts, she still hadn't quite gotten the hang of it.
"He can watch it with your parents when they come home."
 
"That's okay, because this part's boring," April says, the only other
sibling awake. "They're just patting them down like they do on cop
shows."
 
Now Page turns back to the TV. "Why? They're not the bad guys!'
 
~*~*~
 
The Houdini Museum
7:31 p.m. PST/10:31 p.m. EST
 
Before going into the room where the seance is to be held, the host,
panelists and even the camera crew, undergo a rather thorough search
that's only mildly less invasive than a full-body strip and cavity
search (they are on national TV, after all). "Thorough, aren't you?"
Wayne cracks as Mulder rolls his eyes.

After that, they are squished into a room that can only be described
as a trophy room, and when they see how cramped it is, what with some
former escape devices and personal items filling up nearly every
space but the middle, they realize that's why the "live audience
members" can only watch from the monitors in the stage room. There
are no windows, but there are countless framed posters of Houdini and
his previous performances.
 
The lenient skeptic looks up at one of the posters which declares,
"Do Spirits Return? Houdini says NO - and Proves It!" Mary asks
Dorothy, "I understand you debunk mediums yourself, especially when
they concern Houdini. So why hold a seance? Isn't that like a
contradiction?"
 
Mulder and Scully are also curious about Dorothy's answer. The blonde
woman smiles. "Actually, no. In fact, when Houdini was starting out
as a magician, he'd hold seances as entertainment. It was only after
finding the mediums were doing the same kinds of tricks he was that
he became disillusioned with contacting the afterlife. However, as a
magician and performer, it's quite satisfying to host a seance
regardless of your personal beliefs. Besides, you never know if
Houdini might actually show up, right?"
 
Wayne nods. "Which is why I wanted all of us to experience this test
with Dorothy Dietrich, since she'll be bringing both a magician's and
a skeptic's perspective to this."
 
"So have you never experienced the supernatural?" Mulder asks,
curious.
 
The blonde gives him a weary but understanding smile. "I guess,
having seen every trick in the book, I'm just waiting for someone or
something to surprise me one day. So far, I haven't been surprised."
 
"Trust me, sooner or later, you'll probably run into something
that'll surprise you. God knows being around this man certainly did,"
Scully says, heartfelt.
 
"Scully, are you trying to change this show's rating from a TV PG to
a TV MA in one night? You saucy girl, you," he chuckles, while Scully
rolls her eyes and Mary sighs.
 
"Anyone ever tell you what a cute couple you are?" Dorothy grins.
 
Mulder hugs his wife to his side, while she's got a miffed-cat look
on her face. "Not enough." He smiles.
 
"Kids, kids, behave yourselves," Wayne says, in his usual, somewhat
vaudeville barker-like delivery, "we're in front of ladies."
 
"Darn tootin"," Dorothy agrees. "Any more questions, Mary?"
 
"How on earth can you hold seances in here?" Mary says, half-smiling.
"There's barely enough room for us here, I can't imagine what it's
like with your regular crowds."
 
"Ah, well, that's the beauty of this place." The blonde woman nods.
"It forces you to have a more intimate venue, and in a way, it makes
the seance much more effective than if we had it in someplace like
the stage room. I suppose it's like what people performing at
coffeehouses rather than stadiums have, there's more of a connection
with the audience."
 
"You're not spilling any trade secrets, are you, Dorothy?" Wayne
jokes.
 
"Of course not," Dorothy replies, smiling. "I'm sure with your
background, you would've noticed the difference immediately."
 
While Wayne puffs up with pride, the camera crew have finished their
preparations, one camera man constantly filming the conversation
while the other two have set up the infrared cameras. "We're ready,"
the man on camera one says.
 
"Thanks, Jerry." Wayne nods. "Ready?" he asks Dorothy.
 
The middle-aged blonde nods, then looks at each of the participants.
"Okay, a few ground rules before we start. I want you to stand in
more of a circle and hold hands with the person next to you. And
Jerry, could you turn off all the lights except for the light above
and dim that?" The camera man nods, shutting off the portable lights,
leaving only the simple chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and the
other camera men turn on the infrared cameras. "As much as possible,
I want you all to be silent. And don't let go of the other person, no
matter what." Mary raises her eyebrows at this, but says nothing.
 
As they stand, since there's no room for chairs, Mary's holding
Dorothy's right hand, while Mulder is to Dorothy's left, and Scully
is on his left, with Wayne on her left, and Mary on his left.
 
"All right," Dorothy looks to her left, then to her right, then
closes her eyes. With that nonverbal cue, everyone pays attention. In
a clear, strong voice, she calls out, "Mr. Harry Houdini, this is
Dorothy Dietrich! I call upon you to give us a sign, a message, even
an appearance, if you're able!"
 
Mary shakes her head, while Scully is simply observing the procedure,
and Mulder is enjoying himself. Wayne, for his part, is looking
around, as if expecting something to happen.
 
Dorothy, however, simply nods. "Harry," she says in her carrying
voice, and it's obvious she's had years of performing on stage rather
than on camera because there's really no need to project in such a
small space, "I know you're there. I know you're listening. I know
you can't help but be curious, on this night of all nights. And I
know that, consummate showman that you are, you want to appear. Give
us a sign, Harry, give us a sign." And she bends her head slightly
downward, as if listening from someone higher than herself. And
everyone starts to strain their eyes and ears for something, even a
whisper or a moving shadow.
 
Then the magician's eyes fly open, startling Mary. "Harry!" Dorothy
barks, making some audience members jump, her command a surprise
after the seemingly-endless silence. "You think I don't know who I'm
talking to? Fine!" And with that, the panelists begin to levitate,
making them, including Wayne, squeak with surprise and a little fear.

Both Mulder and Scully find themselves double-checking that both Mary
and Mulder are holding Dorothy's hands, and that there's nothing from
the ceiling or floor pulling strings on them, but as per orders,
they're all holding each other's hands tightly. As Scully looks
around for the source of the upward motion, the panelists settle back
down on the floor, to their relief.

"Come on, Harry, this ought to be duck soup considering where you are
now," Dorothy says, her eyes staring up at the ceiling. "Give us a
sign."
 
Wayne, however, is simply thrilled with the seance, wondering what
will happen next.
 
~*~*~
 
Houdini's Mansion
Laurel Canyon, CA
7:39 p.m. PST/10:39 p.m. EST
 
Dave Holt readjusts his headset, then grins. "And we're live!" he
says, raising a finger, then points at the agents and Gibson turns to
his sister, putting a finger to his lips. And the television audience
comes in the middle of a patented Aldous Reed rant.
 
"Shut up," Doggett growls at Aldous, who's going on and on about
poltergeists being an excuse for psychologically immature people.
 
"If you can't make a decent argument, don't tell me to shut up," the
prudish man replies.
 
It's clear the FBI agent has truly lost his patience with this man
and puts his hand over the other man's mouth. "I mean, shut up so I
can hear what's going on, unless you wanna get hit with a brick.
Capiche?" He stares until Aldous nods. "Good." But he waits a few
seconds before removing his hand, then signals Reyes to move to his
side. She nods, and they pull out flashlights and guns in a
well-practiced move, making Aldous considerably more nervous than
before.
 
The boys look at each other and grin. This is pretty much the closest
Luke's been on a case with his father, and being able to watch it
live and on TV is rather surreal, like a videogame. And not unlike a
videogame, Dave's hand-eye coordination is pretty intense, since he
has to keep track of which camera has the best shot to present to the
audience, giving directions every once in a while.

They've switched over to infrared quite some time ago, so onscreen,
the agents and panelist look like they glow green in the dark. Still,
in spite of the darkness, Doggett somehow manages to keep tabs on his
partner, the annoying tag-along, and the three camera men and steers
them all where he wants them. Even through the tinny speakers, it's
clear he's in charge, and Dave turns up the volume with a free hand.
 
Then the director pulls off the left side of his headset. "Okay,
they're far enough so they can't pick us up," Dave says, his eyes
still on the monitors. "Feel free to talk now."
 
"You sure?" Hannah says.
 
"Oh yeah," he says, "otherwise, I'd hear us in the speakers." He taps
the jerry-rigged speakers on the table.
 
"So, are they on the right track?" Luke asks Gibson.
 
Gibson frowns. "I'm not sure, but I think there's something out
there," he mutters.
 
"Where? I don't see anything," Dave says, squinting at the monitors.
"You boys aren't planning a prank on national TV, are you?"
 
"No, no prank," Gibson answers, not wanting to confuse the guy any
more than he has to be tonight. After all, he's got his hands full
with them, plus his regular job, which is catching the action and
putting it onscreen. "What if they can't find the guy and it goes on
longer than an hour?"
 
"Huh? Well, then I guess we'll put an update for next week's show,"
Dave answers, his eyes still on the screens. "But Wayne said your
folks were about ready to wrap up the case, so it shouldn't take
long."
 
"Famous last words," Luke intones, making Hannah giggle.
 
"Ha, ha," Dave says, "kid, don't jinx us."
 
"Oh, the mean man fell down!" Hannah exclaims.
 
Her brothers look at the main monitor, which shows Aldous Reed
looking around, wide-eyed, as if trying to find the person that
tripped him. "Who did that?" he snaps, although his voice is rather
thin.
 
"Just a tree," one of the camera men says, using a penlight to show
the exposed root without killing the infrared.
 
"I knew that," Aldous says, but the kids roll their eyes, and Dave's
fairly sure the audience isn't buying it, either.
 
"Hey, you guys, get a move on," Doggett calls out, and the skeptic
scrambles to his feet and starts running. "No, this way," the agent
corrects him, "just follow our lights."
 
"John, I think I saw something," Reyes says, and the camera guy on
her detail pans around, trying to get a glimpse of what she's talking
about.
 
"I need you to zoom in," Dave says through his headset, and the
camera does so. "I can't see anything, can you?"
 
"No," the camera guy mutters softly.
 
"Okay, zoom out, and put Monica back in a medium shot. Yeah, that's
great." Dave nods, even though the camera man can't see it.
 
"I don't see anything," Hannah frowns. "Can you?"
 
"Nope, but I think Monica's kinda like Gib," Luke says, making his
slightly younger brother roll his eyes.
 
"No, they both have been on the X-Files long enough to know when
they're not alone," Gibson corrects him. "Even you would, if you were
thrown into a life-endangering situation long and often enough."
 
Luke scowls, then frowns, an odd feeling that isn't quite dej=E0 vu
coming over him. Weird. But brushes it off because Aldous Reed
distracts them by running into a tree and making them laugh.
 
"Hey, do any of you have a spare flashlight Reed can use? Otherwise
people will think we're filming a comedy," Dave says, but
double-checking the computer to ensure this is all being recorded.
 
"You mean it's not?" Luke grins.
 
"Quiet in the peanut gallery," Dave grumbles, and the teens shrug at
each other. Peanut gallery?
 
But a shriek from the other monitor gets their attention, and Dave
throws the feed to the Scranton location.
 
~*~*~
 
The Houdini Museum.
7:46 p.m. PST/10:46 p.m. EST
 
"Mary, are you okay?" Wayne asks, concerned, as the lone chandelier
light comes back on.
 
The woman is pale, but nods, and smiles weakly. "I guess I just got
caught up, is all," she says, after clearing her throat. 'sorry."
 
The blonde woman nods, as if it's to be expected. "Should I try
again?" she asks.
 
Mary nods, more firmly this time. "Yes, please."
 
Dorothy smiles briefly, "All right." And she closes her eyes. "Harry,
I asked politely before, and I'll try it again. Can you give us proof
that it's you? And this time, can you keep the light on?"
 
Mary looks around nervously, Wayne keeps an eye on her, and Scully
keeps her eyes on Dorothy suspiciously, while Mulder looks like he's
having the time of his life. There's a long silence, and then the
light flickers. Dorothy clears her throat meaningfully, and the light
stays on.

Unfortunately, the cameras go wonky, and the audience (and Dave with
the kids) can hear the camera crew yelling as their tiny mounted
monitors wink out, the connection to the sound cuts off temporarily,
and the image flickers. Then the walls shake, and then so does the
floor, like a major earthquake just hit.
 
"Dorothy!" Wayne yells.
 
"It's not me!" she yells back as the chandelier and portable lights
start to flicker. "Well, not this time!"
 
Wayne blinks, then lets go of Scully's hand to put both hands on
Mary's shoulders as she covers her eyes. Scully is getting more
concerned. "Has this ever happened before?" she asks.
 
"No," Dorothy shakes her head, her eyes scanning the area, not unlike
what Doggett was doing half an hour ago in Laurel Canyon. Then she
looks suspiciously at the others, the circle disintegrated now that
Scully's trying to console Mary away from the still-wonky cameras,
Mulder going over to the camera crew and Wayne yelling into his
earpiece at Dave. "First time we've ever had an earthquake, but I
guess there's a first time for everything."
 
"That wasn't an earthquake," Wayne says, taking a brief respite from
yelling at his director as Scully escorts Mary out before she has a
complete breakdown on national TV.
 
"What?" she stares at him.
 
The host, who looks frazzled, shrugs wide-eyed. "Dave says there
wasn't an earthquake recorded in that area, only the Houdini Museum
was shaking." Then he goes back to yelling at Dave.
 
The magician, who's simply watching everything go to hell in the
space of a few minutes, sighs. "This is weird," she frowns.
 
Mulder perks up. "What do you mean?"
 
She shakes her head, still frowning. "None of my seances have every
fallen apart like this. But there's gotta be a logical explanation
behind this, I'm sure."
 
"What makes you so sure of that?" he asks.
 
"Because minor flubs are normal, but anything this chaotic," she
waves at the cameras, Wayne yelling, Mary and Scully out in the
hallway, and the camera crew desperately trying to regain control of
their equipment under the flickering lights, 'this is insane."
 
Mulder smiles lopsided. "Well, you asked for a sign," he says.
 
She gives him a no-nonsense look that he'd expect from Scully, not a
magician. "Ha, ha," she says flatly. "In spite of what Wayne said,
I'm pretty sure it was some kind of tremor. And seismic activity has
been known to play havoc with electronics."
 
He blinks. "Wow, guess we didn't need either Scully or Mary, you're
doing a pretty good job of being a skeptic."
 
Dorothy shrugs as the lights slowly get back to normal, and so do the
cameras. "Like I said, I've seen pretty much every trick in the book.
It's a pity we'll probably find the explanation long after this show
stops airing, but I guess that's to be expected when Mother Nature
upsets filming."
 
"For natural causes, it caused quite a ruckus, don't you think?"
Mulder comments as Wayne and the crew tries to reset everything.
 
She chuckles. "You have no idea how often rain or high wind have
cancelled magic shows, Mr. Mulder," she says, "but this is the first
time I've gotten interrupted by an earthquake."
 
Mulder shrugs. "I'll let my wife and Mary know what's going on," he
says, and the magician nods.
 
~*~*~
 
Houdini's Mansion
Laurel Canyon, CA
7:52 p.m. PST/10:52 p.m. EST
 
"Dammit, dammit, dammit," Dave mutters, between manning the phone,
getting yelled at by Wayne, and trying to operate the switchboard at
the same time. When he sees that camera two's getting a decent wide
shot of the two agents, he says, 'switching to camera two," then
tears off his headset and grabs a cell phone and a ratty sheet of
paper with numbers and names scrawled on it.

Dialing quickly, he gets a local TV news editor over in Scranton and
asks them about earthquakes. When he gets a negative response, he
asks for the weather man (just barely not calling him a "weather
bunny"), who confirms it with scientific backup. After hanging up, he
mutters, "Shit," and pulls the headset back on.

"Wayne, Wayne, dammit, there's no earthquake," he says, "got
confirmation from the local news. Yeah, and Penn State scientists,
you happy?" Then he groans and yells while switching, "Camera one,
you're on!" Then he sighs, "Fuck."
 
The kids have pretty much figured out, since the cameras went wonky
at the Houdini Museum, that Dave has pretty much forgotten about
them, or he'd watch his language. So the audience has seen, after the
sudden commercial break, the continuing chase scene in Laurel Canyon,
with nary an explanation about the technical malfunction in Scranton.
And so far, the kids doubt the audience will get an explanation at
this rate. "I thought they were getting close," Luke murmurs at one
point.
 
"Yeah," Hannah says, but quietly, because Angry Dave doesn't seem too
safe right now.
 
"Camera three, watch it! Fuck, Steve, get your ass in gear!" the tech
director shouts.
 
Steve mutters, but it's thankfully indistinct to both the audience
and the children. Luke and Gibson look at each other, then at Hannah.
"Come on," Gibson says, taking the little dark-haired girl's hand,
"let's give Dave some breathing room." Hannah nods, and they walk
towards the large van they came in.
 
"You think this is enough breathing room for him?" Luke says, when
they're out of sight and sound. "Because I'd like to be out of range
when he breathes fire."
 
"He breathes fire, too?" Hannah asks.
 
"Not literally," Gibson groans as Luke chuckles.
 
Then Luke frowns. "It seems they're going all over the place," he
says, "you sure you can't pick up anything definite out there?"
 
Gibson gives his slightly older brother a look. "You try and pick out
one unfamiliar voice from fifteen," he grumbles, "all chattering at
the same time, some louder than others, and determine if it's the
right voice. I mean, I'm glad the cops are out there sealing off the
area, but their thoughts, along with those who have been trying to
sneak on, are distracting."
 
"Sorry," the taller teen shrugs, "I forget sometimes what you get
isn't like one radio station but several at the same time."
 
The bespectacled boy nods, then sighs tiredly. "But I have been
trying. Someone's throwing those bricks, and someone's been hassling
our parents. It just bugs me that I can't figure out where he's
coming from."
 
And then they hear Dave shout, and run back to the table. "What's
happening?" Luke asks.
 
"Holy hell," the director says, awed, but his hands are still moving
from one camera to the next to get the best shot.
 
Then the kids see what he, and the rest of America's looking at. It
looks like a plain, middle-aged woman, in conservative dress,
standing behind the ruins with a disapproving look on her face. A
woman who is glowing without the aid of infrared cameras or any sort
of technological help, thank you. A woman who looks exactly like the
last Bess Houdini. "Who are you?" they hear Doggett call out.
 
The woman gives him a look. "Please leave," she says, in the voice of
one accustomed to speaking on stage, loudly and clearly. And bricks,
rocks and small, loose objects around her start floating. "You are on
private property."
 
"No, ma'am," Doggett corrects her, lowering his gun as he approaches
slowly, but his flashlight's still on her, 'this hasn't been private
property for decades. And I'm afraid you'll have to cease and desist,
or you'll be charged with aggravated assault and petty misdemeanor."
 
The glowing woman raises her eyebrows, then looks at Reyes, who looks
just as determined and armed, as well as the camera crew still
filming away, and at the intellectual who is struck dumb in one of
the few moments of his life. She sighs, then puts her hands up
gracefully, and the various objects drop with audible thuds. "Very
well, but you should tell those hoodlums to stop making a mess of
things. I don't think Harry would appreciate it," she says, sadly
looking at the ruins behind them.
 
"We'll make sure this place is looked after, ma'am," he says
politely, as if he were talking to a flesh-and-blood woman and not
something glowing in the dark. "But you'll have to let us do our jobs
without getting hurt, all right?"
 
"All right," she says, "promise?"
 
Doggett looks at Reyes, who nods. "Promise," he says firmly.
 
The woman gives him a long look, and then a brief nod, as if she
believes him. And in front of two FBI agents, one certified skeptic,
three camera men, one director, two teenaged boys and one girl, and
the rest of America, the ghost of Bess Houdini disappears from view,
and, presumably, from this plane of existence. And then Doggett feels
a yank on his left earlobe. "Don't forget, then, young man," he hears
in his ear, and his eyes widen slightly.
 
He turns his head slowly, looking to his left to see, of course,
nothing. Well, the curious looks from the others, who saw him react
to something, but not really seeing or hearing what it was. Great.
"Guess that wraps it up, then," he says nonchalantly, as if chasing
down ghosts and promising what amounted to a deal with the California
Tourism Bureau and Department of Natural Resources happened all the
time. "Come on, Agent, we've got agencies to call and a report to
write." And he turns abruptly away from the cameras and the skeptic,
with Reyes looking mildly amused.
 
"Well, guess it's your show again," the brunette agent says, giving
the still-slightly dumbfounded man a wave before joining her partner
and their kids in the car.
 
"Well, uh," Aldous Reed says, looking at Dave, who smirks and gives
him a thumbs up, 'that's, um, that's it for "Jose Chung's The Truth
is Out There"." He pauses, and Dave makes a rolling motion with his
hands to get him to continue. "Uh, thanks for joining us," he says,
as it's obvious that he's still gathering himself from the shock,
"have a good night. And, uh, Halloween." And he stops, since it seems
he's run out of words to say.
 
Dave grins as he fades out from camera one and plays the outtro video
to the show. He's so going to remix this into the best bloopers reel
for their Christmas party.
 
~*~*~
 
The X-Files Office
November 2, 2003
 
All the calls have been made, all the paperwork signed, the case is
finally finished, and the Houdini Museum is now on the California
State Parks and Recreation list for upkeep and security. Another good
note: Wayne Federman was only too happy to have a ghost on one
segment of the show (even if it wasn't Harry's) and decided not to
either bug the FBI agents further or sue the Penn State scientists
for screwing up their initial findings. "It's too bad that it was
just a seismic event," Reyes says regretfully, pushing the file
drawer closed. "It would've made such a great story for the Houdini
Museum."
 
Doggett shakes his head, but he's smiling. "I think there was more
than enough weirdness for that show," he says, "but I'm sure that
magician will make the most of that seance."
 
Reyes looks at the wrinkled five dollar bill in her hand. "I can't
believe the boys were betting on our case," she says, "although I
have to say I was relieved when even Gibson couldn't figure it out
before we did."
 
"I can't believe we had to figure it out on TV," he says, "but it was
also the drunk teens" fault, so part of that five's mine."
 
She sticks her tongue out. "No, this is going to the down payment for
our new house," she says, waving the dollar bill.
 
He rolls his eyes. "In which case, we'd better get a crooked real
estate agent, if that's all we have to work with," he jokes.
 
"John!" Reyes tries to scold him, but she's smiling, ruining the
effect. "You know, maybe we should take a cue from Mulder and the
Houdinis when we get a new house."
 
"What do you mean?" Doggett says, confused.
 
She smiles and sits on the desk. "I mean, getting a haunted house.
Ghosts are rather effective intruder repellents, more so than most
security systems."
 
He groans. "Usually, most people look for enough bedrooms and
bathrooms for their homes, decent wiring and plumbing," he sighs.
"Not ghosts."
 
Reyes" smile doesn't dim. "Well, maybe we could have a brownie
instead, they could help with the housework," she teases him, "or
perhaps set up a geis to protect the children--"
 
Doggett grabs her for a quick kiss before she makes any more
suggestions. "Let's start with the necessary stuff first," he says
when they break their kiss, 'don't worry about anything else."
 
"Okay." Reyes nods, "but if we get a brownie, I call dibs."
 
He gives her a look. "Then the kids would be too spoiled to move out
of the house, and then how are we gonna kick "em out?" he says,
straight-faced.
 
'see? I knew there was a reason why I love you," she says, pulling
him in for another kiss.

~*~*~

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty Six
"The Last Case"


Sunday Park
November 12, 2003
12:09 p.m.

It's a gorgeous day in Webber, Georgia, with lovers scattered about
the park. It's not surprising, because it's a beautiful, pristine
park on the edge of a sprawling southern metropolis, and it's the
closest place for a mid-day break for most everyone with a car. Young
families are picnicking, college kids are playing Frisbee and hooky,
and everyone pretends that spring is in the air in the middle of
fall.

One couple in particular are standing on a bridge spanning the lake
in the middle of the park. "It's hard to believe such a depressing
rumor when we're in such a lovely place," the young woman says, her
hands on the white-painted metal railing as she stares out at the
scenery.

Her paramour smiles, his hand next to hers, his dark eyes likewise on
the scenery. "I think it's reverse psychology," he says, "to
encourage more daring couples to break the so-called curse."

The young woman looks up at her lover, who is more than twice her
age. "Perhaps we could be that couple," she says.

"Perhaps," he agrees, turning to her when he sees her head movement,
"after all, statistically, couples are bound to break up sooner or
later, no matter where their second date is."

 

"Perhaps." She smiles, her eyes on the lilies floating gracefully on
the surface of the lake. "It's not like there's any proof that
couples don't survive their second date here."
 
They smile at each other, and drink warm coffee from their covered
paper cups. Neither are holding hands, nor are they obviously
intimate, but being able to be in such a public place and ignored is
a forbidden luxury they feel they can afford, especially if they're
flaunting the so-called Second Date Curse of Sunday Park

~*~*~
 
Arlington, VA.
1:27 p.m. 

"Your family changes every time I see you," Helen Kosaki, the elderly
but energetic real estate agent comments. "Is there something I
should know?"

Reyes smiles weakly. She's on vacation, enforced partly by Skinner
but mostly by her family because she was driving them nuts with the
constant house-shopping. "I know women like shopping, but this is
ridiculous," Doggett had grumbled a couple of nights ago, "please,
for your kids' sake and mine, I think you should take some vacation
time and find the house yourself."

Reyes had made a face at him. "You know I don't like shopping that
much, I just want what's best for us."

He'd given her a look. "Okay, gender stereotypes aside, you're still
pretty picky. I mean, we could live in any of those houses we've
seen, I just don't get what's wrong with them, but you do. So you
pick out our next house, okay?"

"But--," Reyes had protested. 

"No buts," Doggett had interrupted before she could fully form an
argument, holding her arms gently. "I'll consider this prep time for
when you're actually on maternity leave in two or three months and
you can consider this, I dunno, whatever you want to. I don't think
this family can handle looking through twenty houses each week after
school and work, is all I'm saying."

And when she saw Hannah softly snoring on the couch and the boys
looking like they've gone through the Trail of Tears, she reluctantly
agreed with her partner. "Okay, but if will you still feel the same
if I get a haunted house?"

He'd rolled his eyes before kissing her. "I love you, Mon," he'd
grinned, "you're officially on vacation."

And that's how she ended up looking for a new family home by herself.
Well, mostly, if one's not counting Scully, William, Zoe and Brianna
along for the ride. "These are my friends," she shrugs, giving Helen
the short answer. "I'm on vacation."

The short Asian lady with dyed red hair nods. "Yeah, that's what I
figured," she says with no ill will. "Come on, I've got about five
houses on the list today."

"Bring them on." Reyes smiles as Scully raises her eyebrows. 

"Five?" Scully repeats in an undertone as the real estate agent
unlocks the door. "I know this is a buyer's market, but this is
crazy."

Her brunette friend smiles again. "Well, they all look so good, but
none of them really jump out at me, you know? In a way, you and
Mulder are lucky, because not only get you get a great house with no
mortgage, but it's got ghosts as well."

The short redhead sighs. "That wasn't exactly what I was looking for,
but it did turn out okay." She smiles in spite of herself.

 

"And that's what I'm looking for," Reyes says. "Okay, maybe not a
haunted house, although that would be cool, but something out of the
ordinary." She tilts her head at the open door. "Maybe this could be
the one."
 
"Maybe." Scully nods agreeably, and they walk inside. 

~*~*~ 

November 13, 20038:17 a.m.

 "Look, Agent Doggett!" the replacement agent says brightly, holding
up a 402. "An X-File!"

Doggett blinks, then takes a long, slow sip of coffee before
answering. "Morning, Agent Harrison," he says to the blonde woman.
Maybe he should've pressured Krycek harder to accept the job, but
when the former agent/former double agent/sometime good guy told him
with a crooked smile, "I won't leave you any bad guys to catch," he'd
taken the hint. Even Mulder had told him they'd barely survived each
other's company while tracking down his father's killers because of
their shared fear for their families and hatred for the Syndicate.
Anything less, and the former X-File head said that Krycek would
likely go rogue. "What's it this time?"

 
"Director Skinner said this was top priority," she says, "he told me
to tell you first thing."
 
Doggett blinks again, then takes the file from her. Guess the early
bird does get the worm, he thinks to himself, or something nasty in
its mouth. Skimming the contents, his forehead creases, then sighs.
"This is gonna get ugly," he tells her, "just do what I tell you, and
no theorizing out loud, got it?"

Now Agent Harrison blinks. "What do you mean?" 

He opens the folder. "Did you read this?" he says. 

She nods, her blue eyes wide. "Yeah, it says that there's someone
or," she pauses dramatically, "Some-THING at the park killing off
couples."

"Did you happen to notice the latest couple killed off was a married
mayor and his secretary?" he asks, and isn't surprised by her shocked
reaction. Figures. "Like I said, this is gonna get ugly, especially
since it's political. I'm just surprised Skinner wants us on the case
and not someone in Georgia."

She moves the ghastly photos aside and points to a paragraph. "Did
you notice there was a curse on the park?" she says.

The head of the X-Files Division gives the rookie agent a level look,
and moves the pictures back in front of her face. "Did you notice all
these victims have something in common?" he says.

She stares at them, then at him and nods. "They all drowned," she
says.

"Wrong," he corrects her, "they were pulled from the water, but they
were all killed beforehand. It's no curse killing off these people,
it's a sicko."

Her wide-eyed gaze is still on him. "But that sicko could be working
with the curse," she says.

Oh, brother, Doggett thinks. "Like I said, keep your theories to
yourself. Once we're in the field, it's likely the media will try to
spin whatever crazy stories they can without thinking about the
consequences, especially for our investigation. Do not, I repeat, do
NOT say anything to them regarding this case, got it?" He waits until
she nods. "Because the local media's already rabid over the story of
a mayor killed with his secret lover, we at the FBI do NOT want to
give them any more tabloid filler. Even if it's local law
enforcement, do NOT say anything unless it goes by me first, got it?"
 
She nods again. "But Agent Doggett, what if--?" 

He holds his hand up. "Agent, when I tell you to do something,
please, just do it," he says. "Would it kill you to listen to your
supervisor?" he says, unconsciously echoing something Skinner's said
to Mulder countless times.
 
She opens her mouth, then shuts it. And when he thinks he's gotten
through to her, she says, "Only if it follows the curse."

And now he groans. 

~*~*~ 

Doggett's current home.
7:41 p.m.
 
The kids are already digging in at the dinner table when the grownups
join them. "That sounds like fun," Reyes remarks, since Doggett
briefed her on the new case in the kitchen.

He sighs, sitting down and helping himself to the gravy. "I know
field agents get different training than, say, accountants, but I
thought the FBI only hired the best," he grumbles. "There's nothing
fun about trying to solve a case while babysitting your partner at
the same time."

"Babies work at your job?" Hannah asks innocently. 

"They might as well," Doggett mutters darkly, then makes a face when
Reyes nudges him. "Uh, no, sweetie, they don't. It's just that
Daddy's new partner doesn't have..." he pauses, trying to think of
something politic, then gives up, "common sense."

"Oh, okay," his little girl says, easily mollified.
 
Gibson glances up at his father, then swallows his bite of chicken.
"It can't be all that bad," he says. "I mean, she can't be a complete
airhead if she's an accountant."
 
"Hey, no fair," Luke makes a face, "you're cheating." 

"It's not cheating, it's mental harassment," his brother sighs, "he's
practically screaming in my head."

'sorry, Gib," Doggett says. 

The bespectacled boy makes a face. "That's not helping," he says,
"you can stop thinking country music now."

"But it's so much fun." Doggett grins, and Luke grins back, while
Reyes rolls her eyes.

Without warning, Gibson jumps up from his seat and grabs Doggett's
head, giving it a good noogie. "No more country music!" he yells,
making his siblings laugh.

Doggett's face is scrunched up as he takes the noogie. "You do
realize I was a Navy Seal," he says, "you might wanna watch out."

Gibson starts to move behind the chair, making sure to have a good
grasp of his father's head. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Doggett says, and with surprising speed and strength, grabs
the boy and starts tickling him.

"Aw, come on!" Gibson howls, laughing in spite of himself. 

Luke goggles at the scene. "Wow, Dad got him," he shakes his head,
then races around the table to try and tickle his father to free his
brother.

"I got the hide of a gator." Doggett grins, tickling both Gibson and
Luke now, "I ain't ticklish."

"Oh, yeah?" Reyes says, and wiggles her fingers to join Luke's
now-thwarted efforts. "Let's see about that."

"Ah, help, come on!" Gibson gasps in between laughter, making Hannah
laugh hard.

"Will do." Reyes grins, and grabs Doggett's inner thigh under her
wriggling son. "Gotcha!"

Doggett yelps, practically throwing off Gibson. "Hey!" he glares at
the audacity of his wife, er, partner. "Monica!"

She smiles as the boys recover. "Oh, I'm not supposed to use my
powers for good?" she asks innocently.

"That wasn't good," Doggett mutters, studiously not looking at his
sons' smirks as they go back to their seats.

"Yeah-huh, it was," Hannah disagrees. "You got Gib an' Luke, and she
got you back."

"See?" Reyes smiles, tilting her head at her daughter. "Even Hannah
knows better than to mess with Mommy powers."

Doggett starts to dig into his meal again as a diversion. "There's no
such thing as Mommy powers," he says, trying to protect his pride and
what's left of his dignity, "you just got lucky."

She shrugs a little, saying nothing as she butters her roll. "So you
say, but you might not get so lucky tonight," she says before popping
the roll into her mouth.

"Oh, sweetie, you're right, it was Mommy powers," Doggett says
quickly, taking the fork off her plate and filling it with potatoes
and peas, throwing pride and dignity out the window. "You're
absolutely right."

Reyes swallows what he offers, but doesn't look mollified. "You
seemed pretty sure of yourself before," she argues.

"Oh, no, I was totally wrong," Doggett says, giving her water, then
proffering the drumstick. Only his sons notice that his right hand's
above the table, while his left hand is... they don't want to think
about it, as she takes bite after bite from the drumstick.

To Hannah's confusion, Luke and Gibson finish their supper in record
time, excusing themselves to do homework after that. "You better
finish your veggies, too," Luke tells Hannah.

"Why?" the little girl asks. 

"Because I said so," Reyes answers, but is smiling as she does so, so
Hannah finishes her vegetables as she's told. "Why don't you help
your brothers with their homework?"

"Okay!" she says, and jumps from her seat. 

When the bedroom door closes, Doggett looks at his partner with
admiration. "How did you do that?" he asks, his voice husky since her
hand starts wandering on his thigh.

"Mommy powers." Reyes smiles, "Should I give you a better
demonstration upstairs?"

"Hell, yeah." Doggett grins, and they leave their mostly-finished
dinner behind.

~*~*~ 

Webber Police Station.
November 14, 2003
10:01 p.m. 

"Just follow my lead," is Doggett's strict instruction once they're
inside the station and away from the nosy press outside, and Leyla,
that is, Agent Harrison, nods eagerly. Doggett stifles the groan. He
knows he should be more patient with her, as he was once a rookie,
but he's fairly sure he'd never been that freakin' green in his life.
Hell, even in basic training, he'd gotten some measure of respect
from his fellow inductees, if not from his drill sergeant. He's been
pretty good about resisting the temptation to give her commands like
his drill sergeants, but since he's sure she'd crumple into tears,
he's refrained from doing so.

Leyla, for her part, is dawdling slightly behind him, her blue eyes
wide, as if she'd never been in a police station before. Well, she
seems like a fairly decent girl, so outside of the FBI, she probably
wouldn't have. "Agent Doggett," she hisses in her high, girlish
voice, "the bodies are already autopsied, right? So why do we have to
look at them?"

He turns around. "Sometimes, the pictures don't capture everything,"
he says, "if it's too much for you, you can wait outside."

She shakes her head, pursing her lips shut, her eyes still wide. No,
wait, that's her normal eye size, never mind.

Doggett nods briskly, then faces front and they reach the end of the
hallway. He pulls out his badge, "Agents Doggett and Harrison with
the FBI, we're here to see the bodies."

The uniform, that is, the cop whose tag reads "Sondheim", says in a
bored voice, "Yeah, they're in there," and unlocks the door behind
him.

They walk in, and while Doggett's back is ramrod straight, Leyla's
posture is a parody of a teenager in a horror movie, until she sees
her supervisor's expression and straightens up. Again, Doggett takes
out his badge, "Agent John Doggett, this is my partner, Agent
Harrison, we're here to see the bodies."

The coroner lifts the right corner of his lip in a half-smile. "Yeah,
yeah, they wouldn't let you in otherwise," he says in a lazy drawl,
"I swear, this has gotta be the biggest thing in Webber since Burt
Reynolds crashed his car in the lightpost next to Bart's Tavern."
Doggett smothers a smirk as Leyla looks confused, but the coroner
ignores them both as he walks over to two tables with covered bodies.
In a well-practiced move, he pulls the sheets off both bodies,
revealing the head and shoulders of a very deceased couple. "Mrs.
Yvonne Jules wanted him cremated immediately, quick burial and
everything, so you can imagine the pressure we're under. Dot's family
pretty much disowned her, so there's no rush on her."

"That's pretty sad," Leyla comments. 

The coroner shrugs. "That's life," he says. 'so, wanna get a better
look at the former mayor?"

Doggett nods before Leyla can say anything, and the two agents are
treated to a full view of the late George Jules, who would look
distinguished in a suit and tie, but now looks like a Halloween
corpse with the Y-incision on his torso sewn up. His gray hair looks
garish under the sparse autopsy room lights, and his skin, bloated
after its soak in the pond, doesn't fare much better. Leyla covers
her mouth and nose with her hands, because the stench from both
bodies is pretty rank. Doggett tries to inhale as little as possible,
but it's still a fairly nasty smell. He points at the head, "So he
was bludgeoned, strangled, then drowned like the others. The perp
doesn't know the meaning of overkill, does he?"

The coroner does his half-smile again. "The mayor, uh, former mayor,
was pretty lucky. The same happened to Dot Seurat, but since it seems
she put up a bit of a fight, judging by the multiple blunt head
trauma, her skull's more pliable." And he pokes at it to demonstrate,
making the already-nauseous Leyla turn a couple shades more green.

"I'm surprised she wasn't sexually assaulted," Doggett says, "usually
in cases like this, the male gets the brunt of the physical violence,
but the female gets raped. Uh, pardon me," he says to Leyla, who
manages to give him a narrow-eyed look in spite of her queasiness.

"Yeah, well, none of the females were raped. That's something else
that's weird about this," the coroner says.

"What else is weird?" Leyla drops her hands, her eyes wide. 

Oh no, Doggett thinks, please, please don't say ghosts or monsters or
anything. The coroner shakes his head. "Aside from the fact that,
like Mr. Doggett said, they all suffered a case of overkill, nothing
else happened. None of the women got raped, there were no signs of
anything taken, it's like the energy of the kill only went into the
method, which is pretty strenuous. But there's nothing else, no sign
of passion or anything involved." He shrugs again. "The detectives
say if there was some sign of passion involved, it'd be easier to
catch the guy, but I wouldn't know anything about that."

"Oh, that's all," Leyla says, obviously disappointed there's nothing
screaming "freaky" about the case other than the fact that people are
dead. "I thought there'd be something about the curse."

The coroner raises his eyebrows. "You heard about that, too? God,
that's depressing. If Webber was known for anything, I'd hate it to
be a nice little park that people think couples break up at after
their second date."

"But it looks like these couples died after their second date, so
someone must be taking it seriously," Doggett says, surprising his
temporary partner.

"Like I said, it's you and the detectives that have to worry about
that sort of thing. I just try to figure out how they died," the
coroner says.

"Thanks for your help," Doggett shakes the man's hand, and Leyla does
the same. "Hope this is the last of the couples."

The coroner nods as they leave the autopsy room, and the door is
locked behind them.

~*~*~
 
Webber, GA.
November 15, 2003
9:06am 

"Agent Harrison, what the hell are you wearing?" Doggett asks when
they step out of their motel rooms. Breaking time-honored X-Files
tradition (or so it seems), the two agents have separate rooms,
mainly because Leyla knows how to work the budget in her favor.

The agent in question looks at her supervisor questioningly. "What's
wrong with this?" she asks.

Normally, her pink blouse and jeans wouldn't look out of place, but
on the job, it's unprofessional. Doggett gives her a long, level
look. "Do you have anything else in your overnight bag?" he asks.

"Overnight bag?" she repeats. 

Oh, no. Doggett smacks his head, literally. "Yes, overnight bag," he
says between gritted teeth. "I was hoping that huge purse of yours
had more than that for a change of clothes."

"No," she says, "Since we don't know exactly what we're dealing with,
I brought everything I could think of, a crucifix, a wooden stake, a
garland of garlic, silver bullets (they were pricey), holy water,
blessed salt, a gris-gris bag, an axe to cut off heads if it's
zombies--"

"Put that away!" Doggett roars, pushing her and her "weapons" back
into her room. "Good Lord, woman, there's no vampires or zombies or
whatever! Why can't I have a normal partner, for God's sake?"

"Why, don't you carry an all-purpose weapons bag?" Leyla asks
innocently.

Doggett puts a fist to his forehead and rubs it hard, as if to rub
out the insanity that is Leyla Harrison. "No," he answers, "I find
federally-approved bullets to take care of most of the bad guys we
encounter."

"Oh," the young blonde says, surprised, dropping her heavy purse.
"Well, I didn't bring anything else, since I figured we'd solve the
case in a day. That seems to be the usual pace of case solvency."

"Which is nice for the accounting department, but not practical in
real life," Doggett says, still rubbing his forehead, his eyes
tightly closed. "That's why most agents bring an overnight bag with a
few changes of clothes, a laptop, a copy of the case file, and
sometimes extra ammunition." He opens his eyes slowly. "Please tell
me you've got a regular gun in there."

She nods, pulling out her standard-issue Glock. "For the silver
bullets," she says.

He groans. "I'll talk to the friends and family of the deceased,
while you case the park," he says. "Do NOT let them know you're FBI."

"Cool, I get to be undercover!" she smiles brightly. 

"You're not undercover, it's because I don't want the media to know
that we have unprepared agents out in the field," he says bluntly.
"God knows we're still reeling from the aftermath of 9-11, we don't
need to give them any more ammo, even if it's a small city. So no
flashing badges, no identification, got it?"

She sighs, clearly disappointed. "Got it," she says. 

He sighs again, then shakes his head. "Look, is there someone you can
call to bring you some extra clothes?" he asks.

She nods. "My boyfriend Gabe," she says. 

"Good. Call Gabe, and tell him to drive over as fast as he can. And
Agent?"

She pauses, her cell phone out but hasn't dialed yet. "Yes?" 

"Thanks for your enthusiasm, but next time," Doggett sighs. 

She nods. "Overnight bag, got it," and she salutes him smartly and
correctly, which surprises him.

He smiles a little, saluting back. "At ease. And even though it's
daylight, be careful. Okay?"

Leyla smiles briefly. "Okay. Thanks." 

Doggett waves, then leaves as she speed dials her boyfriend. 

~*~*~ 

Doggett finds the rest of the day to be as frustrating as his new
partner, if not more so. From family and friends who can't see past
the tragedy to give anything helpful, which is understandable for
people in general but still maddening for investigators, to others
who revel in the macabre, to yet others who wish to distance
themselves from the whole thing, he finds his job is no easier than
it was than when they first accepted the case. So he finds himself
going back to the Webber Police Station to have a chat with the local
PD and get their feel. After all, it's their town, and they should
know the situation better than he does.

"Oh, it's you," the cop called Lloyd says unenthusiastically. 

"Yeah, it's me," Doggett says, his face devoid of expression as he
checks the others for a read on them. After all, he knows that it's
not fun to have a case yanked out of your hands and have to cooperate
with the new investigators. "What's been happening since the former
mayor died?" He's read the local papers, but he knows that doesn't
always express the local sentiment.

And he would be right. "What do you think?" a bald black man says,
his eyes narrowed. His face is unlined, but his style and gut show
him to be in his mid- to late-forties. "The deputy mayor had to be
sworn in, and it seems she knew even less than the secretary did." He
shakes his head. "Maybe because she wouldn't sleep with him like the
secretary did," and there are some chuckles in the office, even among
the women. "And it's not like we've been sitting on our asses,
either. Ever since Billy Webster and that Elaine woman kicked it,
we've done everything from stakeout to undercover, but we got
nothing. And that the mayor and the secretary died on our watch,
everyone's blaming us." He stares hard at Doggett, as if daring him
to say otherwise.

"Sir," Doggett pauses. 

"Lieutenant Redmond, Charles Redmond," the black man says. 

"Lieutenant Redmond," Doggett says, "no one at the FBI is blaming
anyone. We just wanna catch the guy as bad as you. Who's on stakeout
detail?"

Four hands go up. "Officers Morales, Russell, Evans and Daniels,"
Lieutenant Redmond says. "They've been pulled since the deputy mayor
took over."

"And undercover?" Doggett asks. 

The short-haired brunette identified as Officer Daniels says,
"Officers Franz and Frieda Cooke. We figured it would be best to have
a real couple go to the park, but the perp hasn't been biting. But
they aren't giving up, even though they're not on the payroll for
doing so." There's a mix of admiration and incredulity at their
daring, and Doggett decides to push it.
 
"So, is it true that it was really their second date that the unsub
decided to strike?" Doggett asks. "How would he know that?"

~*~*~ 

Meanwhile, in Sunday Park, Leyla Harrison feels out of place. She
knows she shouldn't, since the very clothes that got her yelled at
this morning blends in perfectly with the crowd here. But that she's
here on a job that she can't officially work on for the time being is
more than a little humiliating, even she's got the brains to realize
that. That, and she's pretty much the only single person around here.
There are couples, families, even college groups hanging out here,
and since she's sans a boyfriend or a pet pretty much makes her feel
more alone than ever.

"Hey, are you waiting for someone?" one half of a couple approaching
her asks.

 "Huh? Oh, yeah," Leyla's startled into the truth before she realizes
she could've said something else. After all, it wouldn't do to have
the general populace think she's scoping them out for a possible
serial killer ghost or zombie among them. She's already discounted
vampires, since it's broad daylight right now, but she can wait for
night fall.

The girl nods, then smiles at her boyfriend, who hugs her. "Well, if
he makes you wait too long, you can make the next date your first
one," she says. "This one won't count."

"Oh, is that how it works?" Leyla blinks. 

The boyfriend laughs. "I can't believe you two actually believe that
stuff," he says.

"Hey, it happened to the mayor and his secretary," the girlfriend
scowls, crossing her arms.

And it's obviously early in their relationship, because the boyfriend
tries to smooth things over quickly. "Hey, baby, I don't think it's
that simple," he says, "besides, if they were caught here, it's
obvious it wasn't their first or second date."

"What do you mean?" Leyla wonders, curious. 

"I mean, think about it," the boyfriend says, more willing to press
common sense on a stranger than his girlfriend, "those two were
working together like all the time. I'm guessing the guy, after being
married forever, decided to press his luck and the secretary said
yes, and things just kinda happened from there. And if it started at
work, I'm pretty sure they had secret dates first, especially if the
guy's married."

"But if they're secret dates, those don't count," his girlfriend
argues. "Not for the curse."

The boyfriend sighs. "Okay, but the curse only happens here, right?
And here's where all those people were killed. Why would the mayor
and the secretary come here if they knew about that?"

"Why do you come here?" Leyla asks. 

The girlfriend smiles impishly at her. "Because it's our fourth date
here, and we were here even before the park got popular and they put
in all that new stuff like the bridge," she says, wrapping her arms
around her boyfriend's waist. "I think we're gonna break the curse."

"Wow," the blonde doesn't hide her admiration of the couple, who
smile at each other, as those who are newly in love do. "So you've
been here even after the first couple got killed here?"

And like a young couple in love, they nod, full of confidence in
their youth. "Like she said, I think we're gonna break the curse, if
there ever was one," the boyfriend says cockily. "Besides, if someone
tells you not to do something, don't you feel like doing it more?"

"Well, yeah, but I usually get in trouble," Leyla admits and the
couple laugh. "I'm not like you guys."
 
"Hey, good luck with your boyfriend," the girlfriend says. "Although
if he keeps you waiting, he might not be the one."

Agent Leyla Harrison pastes a smile on her face. "Probably not," she
says, as she waves the couple off.

As she leans on the bridge where the mayor and the secretary once
stood, she doesn't notice a pair of eyes focus on her intently.
 
~*~*~

 
"How would he know?" The police at the Webber Station look at each
other as the blonde Officer Russell repeats the question. "Same way
as anyone else, I guess," he shrugs. "See if there's someone you
recognize from once or twice before. There's enough regulars showing
up at the park to spot newbies, like any place. I'm just surprised
the mayor, I mean, former mayor, and his secretary got caught, is
all. I mean, really, if you were a married man and a well-known guy,
wouldn't you keep that on the down-low?"
 
"Did he strike you as a man who thought he was above the law?"
Doggett asks, deliberately keeping his face and tone neutral.
 
Again, the police look at each other, but the unspoken message this
time is clear. "Yeah," Lieutenant Redmond admits. "Even when he was
caught speeding and driving under the influence, he thought he could
mayor his way out of it."

"Interesting way of putting it," Doggett remarks. 

"It's true," Officer Russel says. "He might've been mayor of Webber,
but he acted like he was the president."

"I think 'king' is the word you're looking for," Officer Daniels
smirks. Then she shrugs at Doggett's questioning look. "Hey, you can
only not speak ill of the dead before reality hits."

True, Doggett thinks, but doesn't say it aloud. Instead, he says,
"So, the other couples, they were fairly law-abiding citizens, right?
I mean, nobody wanted either of 'em dead or anything, from what I got
from their friends and family."

"No, they were good kids," Lieutenant Redmond agrees. "That's why the
park closed for a while. But it reopened after public pressure to
enforce security and limit access times from sunrise to sunset. And
that's why we were all surprised by the last two couples, since they
were killed after the reopening."

"Alex and Betty Lapine, as well as the mayor and secretary." Doggett
nods. "You figure it was a copycat killer, since the Lapines were
married, and the mayor was, too?"

The black detective sighs, putting a hand to the back of his neck,
and most of the others look discouraged as well. "Our city is small,
and it came from smalltown roots, so even if the press didn't mention
the details, the witnesses who first found the bodies surely
mentioned them to their friends, families, whoever," Redmond admits.

Now Doggett sighs. Damn. Not just the official press, but the local
grapevine as well. "So everyone knows the details of the murders?" he
says, less of a question and more of a statement. But they nod
anyway. "Okay. So it's possible there's a copycat, although for now,
we assume it's the same person that started the killings. Why pick
couples in the first place? I mean, it's hard enough to take down
victims in a public area anyways, but he seems to be making it harder
for himself by deliberately killing a couple. And he doesn't bother
with raping the female, which is what usually happens with couple
killings, the perp wants domination over the female victim. So why
bother killing them off in the first place?"

"What if it has nothing to do with the curse?" Officer Evans, a solid
man who looks like he played football for most of his life, asks. "I
mean, if someone wanted to kill couples, second date or not, that's
the best place to look, pretty much."

"So the park is just a convenient place for the perp to pick his
victims? Well, that might make sense if we could figure out why the
guy's killing off his vics in the first place," Doggett says, taking
Evans' suggestion into account.

~*~*~ 

Sunday Park
 
That pair of eyes belong to a young man with shaggy dark-ish hair,
more than a fair share of facial hair and scruffy clothes, pulling
along a large suitcase on wheels, and everyone, out of politeness,
ignores him. He reveals no expression as he makes his way closer and
closer to the young blonde agent, approaching her from behind. Once
he's about a foot away, he hefts the suitcase onto his back and
closes the distance between them until he's right behind her. Then he
carefully sits the suitcase on the ground without making a sound, and
lunges for her.
 
Somehow, the usually-oblivious female agent senses someone behind
her, and she spins around, her heartbeat racing and her eyes wide.
"Oh, thank goodness!" Leyla Harrison wraps her arms around her
boyfriend. "You're a lifesaver!"
 
Gabe Rotter smiles and hugs her back. "Jeez, Leyla, I know you're
flaky sometimes, but I'm surprised you haven't gotten fired yet," he
chuckles.
 
She makes a face. "Hey, don't jinx it!" she pouts. 

He puts his hands up. "Sorry, babe. You know I was happy to hear from
you, didn't you?" he asks, trying to get on her good side.

"Maybe," she twists around, still pouting. "So, did you get
everything I asked?" she asks.

Gabe nods quickly. "Yeah, every boring suit and skirt you got in your
closet," he says.

She leans closer and lowers her voice . "And underwear?" she
whispers.

"That was the best part." He grins, and laughs even when she swats
him.

"Hey, since I'm not officially working right now, how about we have a
date?" Leyla says excitedly, grabbing onto his arm.

It's her boyfriend, however, that looks around, concerned. "Are you
sure?" he asks. "I mean, your boss yelled at you this morning, and
you were all crying and everything, don't you need to get to work?"

Her lower lip trembles. "So you don't want to spend time with me?"
she asks, looking down.

"No, no, I do!" he says, taking her in his arms. "You just kinda
surprised me."

She smiles up at him, and he's effectively blinded. "Thank you!" she
says, and kisses him. "I promise not to ask you to do anything else
for me!"

"Even if something else in the apartment breaks down?" he leans in,
their foreheads touching.

She opens her mouth, then closes it. "I mean for work," she says
finally.

"Cool," Gabe says, "at least I didn't have to dig up a dead cat." And
they chuckle, walking along the park, with him hauling the suitcase
behind them.

~*~*~ 

Silver Springs, MD. 

It's the third house of the day, and the real estate agent is pulling
up to the crowded driveway, escorting Reyes, Scully and Mulder, along
with the three youngest children and April, who demanded to be taken
along. Mulder had simply shrugged at his wife and taken her along.
"Hey, how much are you guys willing to put for down payment?" Mulder
asks in a low tone. "Because Helen's been taking you to these really
nice homes."

Reyes smiles, and Mulder can see how she'd drive Doggett nuts.
"Enough," she says, "you don't have to worry about that."

"I'm not worried," Mulder says, as they skirt other families going
through this open house. "I'm jealous. I mean seriously, if Uncle
Saul hadn't given us a big house, we'd be in some cramped apartment."

Scully rolls her eyes. "Don't exaggerate, Mulder. We would've been
fine."

 

Mulder puts on a "oops, caught" face, but when his wife turns around,
he mouths, "Not really."
 
Reyes laughs at her friends' antics, shaking her head when April
looks up questioningly. "Come on, April, let's see if there's
anything cool about this house."

The little girl shakes her head. "This is nice, but it's normal," she
says, and flattens herself against her "aunt" when another family
passes them by.

"Normal, huh?" Reyes looks a little bummed. "Well, normal's okay for
some people," she hems.

The little girl smiles, knowing Reyes better. "But it's not for
everyone," she agrees. "Come on, let's tell Mommy and Daddy."

"Okay," the tall woman agrees, and they go to get her former
coworkers and their youngest kids away from the buffet table.

~*~*~ 

Webber, GA
6:59 p.m. 

They're camped in Agent Harrison's room, "they" being the woman in
question, plus her boyfriend and her boss. Gabe is making supper in
the small kitchen, while Doggett's on the phone with his partner, and
Leyla is deciding which outfit she'll wear tomorrow.
 
"So, how's your wi--, uh, Agent Reyes?" Leyla asks when he hangs up. 

Doggett shakes his head. "She hasn't found anything yet, and it's
been ten houses so far," he answers.

"Seriously?" Gabe goggles, carrying in a pan of tuna and pasta.
"Where was she looking?"
 
"All over the place," Doggett replies. "I'm not sure if she'll find
anything once her vacation wraps up, but at least she'll have fifty
less houses to worry about."

"Fifty?" Leyla repeats. "Wow." 

"Well, she's actually been house-hunting before starting on vacation,
but I doubt that finding a house meeting her expectations is easy to
come by," her boss says wryly. "Nice job, Gabe," he says, since the
food smells better than the description.

"Thanks." The younger man grins, "Someone has to cook something
other than mac and cheese."

"But it's so easy," Leyla says, "and as long as I watch it, it
doesn't burn."

"Uh-huh." Doggett smiles at the couple. He waits until they've gotten
some food in their system, then he briefs Agent Harrison on the
situation with the police, and she tells him what little she's
learned at the park. "Look, this sounds like it's gonna be longer
than a day," he says, "and we haven't gotten any leads. Hell, if the
local PD can't get a read on a suspect, it's probably somebody from
the outside."

"Darn, and I thought the boogeyman was an inside job," Gabe jokes.

Doggett sighs while Leyla jumps on the suggestion. "Oh my gosh, I
didn't even think of that! What if it's someone like Tommy Conlon? Or
a malevolent poltergeist brought on by the excessive foot traffic in
the park?" Her eyes are shining, and Doggett's reminded of the
cartoons his little girl watches.

"Or what if it's your garden variety psycho?" Doggett bluntly shoots
down her suggestions. "You know we have to look at what the evidence
shows us, and so far, there ain't nothing supernatural about this,
except for the fact we're out here in the first place."

"I think Mr. Skinner said something about a "Sanity check'," Leyla
says, "I'm not sure what he meant by that."

The two men look at each other, and both wisely refrain from
commenting. Instead, they dig into their food.

And for the second time that night Doggett gets a call on his cell.
"Doggett," he answers.

"Agent Doggett, that sonofabitch killed Franz and Frieda," Lieutenant
Redmond's voice comes over the phone.

"Dammit," Doggett sighs, but is already putting his plate and fork
away. "We'll be right there."

"What's going on?" Leyla asks.

"The perp killed the undercover couple," Doggett says grimly, "grab
your weapon, Agent."

She nods, and he shakes Gabe's hand. "Good seeing you," he says,
"I'll be sure to bring her back safe and sound."

"Good," Gabe says faintly, watching his girlfriend's boss check his
weapon before putting it into a shoulder holster, then pull on a
windbreaker bearing the letters "FBI". Then he turns to see his
girlfriend come out of the bathroom wearing dark business slacks and
jacket along with her pink blouse. He kisses her, "See ya."

She smiles, "See ya."

And with that, the two FBI agents walk out, leaving Gabe Rotter
holding the pan.

~*~*~

The Doggett-Reyes home

That night, Reyes is reading to her youngest (for now) child in bed.
She and Hannah have been going through various fairy tales since the
romance novel thing happened and she wanted to show Doggett she read
some "good" books, too. Tonight, they've read "The Frog Prince" and
Reyes made Hannah laugh with her frog impressions. "Mommy, aren't you
glad Daddy's a prince and not a frog?" the brunette little girl says.

Reyes' smile deepens. She knows she could never adequately express
how happy it makes her feel every time Hannah calls her that name,
and she hugs her. "I'm very glad," she says. "I'm just sorry I had to
go through so many frogs to get to him."

"But the frog prince was already a prince," Hannah argues, "and there
weren't other frogs."

"True," Reyes nods, "but sometimes, when you kiss a frog, all you get
are warts, not a prince." Then she holds the little girl's face in
her hands. "Promise me, before you kiss a boy, make sure we meet him
first, because sometimes parents are better at seeing frogs in
disguise."

"But boys are yucky," Hannah sticks her tongue out.

Reyes laughs. "Yeah, but where do you think princes come from? They
were little boys once, too. So when you grow up and they grow up,
bring your prince over and we'll see if he really is a prince - or if
he's a frog," she makes her froggy face.

"Okay," Hannah laughs.

The brunette woman kisses the little girl before leaving the bed.
"Sweet dreams, Hannah."

"Sweet dreams, Mommy." Hannah smiles, and snuggles under the covers.

~*~*~

Sweet dreams are not to be had in Georgia, however, as the dogs are
let loose in Sunday Park, trying to get the scent of the man who
would dare attack and kill two of Webber's finest. "It was bad
before," Lieutenant Redmond says, his face set in a scowl, "but this
is worse."

Doggett nods. The killer struck at the very people who put their jobs
and lives on the line to protect others, and they got killed for it.
"We will find him," he says, unknowingly mirroring the darker man's
expression, "and he will pay."

"Damn straight," Redmond says, then pulls out a cigarette. "Excuse
me, I better do this away from the crime scene."

The FBI agent nods, and then turns to his junior agent. "Get
anything?" he asks.

She shakes her head as the body bags are carted away, thankful she
can't smell them any more. "Forensics are still going through
evidence, but there's no clue as to how the killer got to them. And
there was no sign of a struggle, either."

"That's bad," Doggett says, "if he got the jump on two detectives,
undercover at that."

The blonde agent looks around, then shivers. "It was so romantic
earlier this afternoon," she says, "but this is just awful."

Doggett sighs, but doesn't disagree with the latter sentiment. "Local
PD are notifying next of kin, the dogs and detectives are tracking
down the killer's presence," he says, "you take a ride with one of
the forensic trucks."

"What about you?" she asks.

He exhales, and in the cold night air, it looks like a plume of
smoke. "Gonna take a walk in the park," he says, pulling out his
heavy-duty flashlight.

"Oh, okay," Harrison blinks, then runs after one of the trucks
closing its doors.

~*~*~

Agent Harrison's room
11:51 p.m.

Gabe Rotter looks up from his air guitar session when the door opens.
"Hey, babe," he says to girlfriend, who looks wiped. "How'd it go?"

She sighs. "I fainted when the coroner started cutting up Franz'
body," she confesses, "I didn't come to until half an hour ago, and
then I had to have a power drink before I could get here."

"Aw, man," he says, and hugs her. "Want I should make you a snack?"

"Anything but meat," Leyla says with a faint smile, and he nods. She
pulls off her jacket, then her shoes. "Mm, that smells good," she
says when she smells toast bread.

"Good thing we went shopping, huh?" He grins, and his grin gets wider
when she kisses his cheek. "Nothing says magic like PB and J on
toast."

Leyla smiles, then takes a bite. "Wow, it is magic," she says, "I
feel better already."

He chuckles, "That's my girl. So, where's your scary boss?"

"He's not scary," she protests, then giggles, "okay, he is, but not
all the time. I don't know, he was gonna hang out at the park or
something."

He looks at her. "Where those cops were killed? Is he nuts?"

"That's what he told me, along with 'ride in the forensic truck',"
she tries to lower her voice, but it doesn't quite work. "Good thing
the coroner showed me the results and stuff once I had my sports
drink. It would've been so embarrassing to get nothing after
fainting."

"But it's normal," Gabe says, trying to reassure her.

But she groans instead. "But I'm supposed to be an FBI agent!" she
wails. "I'm not supposed to faint like a little girl seeing a dead
body cut up! And I'm on the X-Files! How am I gonna catch a bad guy
if I'm fainting or screaming?"

"You were screaming, too?" he asks.

Leyla blushes. "Well, that was for the other case," she mutters.
"Some of that stuff that kid thought up was really scary."

"Oh," he says, putting his arms around her reassuringly. "Hey,
listen, if you--"

"Just who I was looking for," Doggett comes in, interrupting Gabe's
almost-smooth move. "I need your help."

~*~*~

"Okay," Leyla says, while Gabe says, "What?"

Doggett looks at the young couple and wishes he didn't have to do
this. But they've got even less time to catch the guy than he
thought, since gossip's flaring around Webber quicker than it did in
his hometown. Thanks, internet, you suck, he growls inwardly. "The
chief of police says they're not risking anymore undercover
operations on this case, and that we're free to move," he says,
"which basically means we're the ones that have to risk our necks.
Lieutenant Redmond says to meet them for a debriefing at the station,
and they'll be happy to provide us with backup and surveillance, but
since they're not authorized to make the first move--"

"They're not willing to kill themselves if they're not on payroll,
got it," Leyla finishes, looking as weary and jaded as Doggett does.
"I know how much control budget has, especially if it's orders from
top down."

"So, what does that mean?" Gabe asks.

Doggett sighs. "That means that I have to pretend to be her boyfriend
and lure out the perp," he says.

"No ways, she's my girl!" the younger man protests, holding Leyla
tight like a prize. "You're not touching her!"

"It's nothing personal, it's for the job," Doggett tries to explain
to the Romeo, but he isn't buying it.

"No, if someone's gonna go out there with her, it's gonna be me," he
says. "Besides, you said all those cops are gonna protect us, right?
No creep can sneak past an entire horde of cops and get to us." And
he looks at Leyla, whose eyes are shining.

Oh, no, Doggett thinks, I'm not gonna have civilian collateral on top
of everything else. "You are NOT going," he says, scolding Gabe like
he's one of his kids. "You are a civilian, you are unarmed,
untrained, and unqualified to be part of the operation!"

"And you're old enough to be her dad!" Gabe yells back. "I don't care
if you're her boss, there's no way you're gonna put the moves on my
woman!"

"I've already got a woman, I don't want to make moves on yours!"
Doggett shoots back oh-so-intelligently. "There are two dead cops in
the morgue, along with ten other corpses. Would you like to join them
because of your ego, mister?"

Gabe glares at Doggett. "Mr. Doggett, we were out there earlier," he
declares, "the bad guy's gonna know you two are faking it if suddenly
Leyla shows up with another guy, right? Especially one with the
letters 'FBI' on his jacket." And he points to Doggett's windbreaker.

Doggett sighs. Great, true love gets logical once in a while. "Fine."
He rolls his eyes, "just so you know, we're putting wires on you, so
don't get too enthusiastic in your acting."

Leyla, however, is looking at her boyfriend, her blue eyes shining.
"Gabe," she says happily.

"I know I'm talking to the wall now," Doggett grumbles, "but you two
will be under guard from the moment you step foot on the park 'til
the moment you get home. And Agent Harrison?" he taps her on the
shoulder.

"Hm?" the blonde blinks at the seemingly-sudden interruption between
herself and her boyfriend.

Her boss glares at her until she's paying full attention, and then
she blushes. "He's under your protection. Got that?"

"Hey, I can take care of myself and my girl," Gabe tells him.

It only takes Doggett a few moments to bend the man's arm behind his
back and have him yelping in pain. "Like I said, Agent Harrison, this
civilian is under your protection. We may have eyes and ears on you
two, but you are the only one facing the danger head on. Do you
understand?"

She nods soberly, and Doggett releases his grip. "Come on, Gabe, we
have to go to the police station," she says, standing up. Gabe tries
to rub his arm in a casual way, but can't, and winces as he follows
her to the car.

Doggett simply shakes his head and follows them out, hoping they're
not making a big mistake.

~*~*~

Washington, DC
November 16th, 2003
9:19am

"This neighborhood looks familiar." Reyes smiles, as she and Helen
pass by Mulder and Scully's home, and Scully smiles back from the
back seat with her twin girls in their safety seats. It's hard to
believe there are any empty homes around here, since most of them are
occupied by families who've inherited them (like Mulder) or newly
rich and political types. "Are you sure there's an open house here?
This is kind of a well-populated area."

"Oh, you know this neighborhood?" Helen asks, her eyes on the road.

"We live a few houses back," Scully answers as they pull up to a
modest two-story home.

The elderly real estate agent smiles. "Then you know that there are a
couple of houses around here that have foreclosed, through no fault
of the previous owner, of course."

"Of course," the women chorus, while looking at each other in the
rear view mirror.

"So, here we are," Helen says brightly. "Take a look around."

Reyes blinks at the brevity of the introduction. Usually, the real
estate agent gets more flowery in her praises of a house, and now
she's suspicious. "What's wrong, Helen," she says, "it's not like I
won't turn this down any faster."

The elderly Asian woman blinks, then nods, smiling a little. "All
right. For some reason, this lovely home has a high turnover rate, in
spite of its location. It seems the previous owners, all of them, in
fact, have gone crazy. There, that's it."

"Okay," Scully's nonplussed. "I take it they've checked the plumbing,
any mold or paint, that sort of thing."

"Every time with every owner." Helen nods. "But they all leave raving
lunatics."

"Oh," Reyes says. "Anything in particular that they all have in
common, or do they just go crazy once they walk in here?"

"Oh, no, it takes a while," Helen says quickly, "I mean, maybe a week
or so, and then they all start talking about things disappearing,
brand new things breaking, and then they're talking about little
people. Like leprechauns or something crazy like that."

The two women look at each other. "We'll take it," Reyes says happily.

"What?" Helen stares at her, then at Scully. "Is she serious?"

"As a heart attack," Scully says. "I think you've just described her
perfect home."

Now the real estate agent gives the tall brunette a good long look.
"This isn't weirding you out or anything?"

Reyes' smile is from ear to ear. "You should see me on the job," she
says, "this is nothing."

"Well, not nothing," Scully corrects her, "I think this might take a
little more work than a haunted house."

"But this is perfect for me and the kids!" Reyes tells her friend.
"And I get to tell John we've got hobgoblins!"

"We don't know that for sure," the redhead cautions her, "after all,
there could be logical explanations for-"

"Hobgoblin-like behavior?" the brunette interjects, while losing the
real estate agent altogether. "Come on, the kids will love it, John
will love it, and we get to have something better than brownies,
we've got hobgoblins!"

Scully, seeing the same look on her friend's face as her husband's
when he first told her about the ghosts in their home, sighs, but
smiles back anyways. "All right. But you tell John everything, okay?"

"Okay!" Reyes beams, practically skipping through all the rooms in
her cursory "inspection". "This is gonna be great!"

Helen looks like Reyes has already lost her mind. "I know she's
energetic, but is she always like this?" she asks Scully in an
undertone.

Scully smiles, hefting her twin daughters in the baby bjorns. "You
really should see her on the job," she replies, "this is nothing."

"Uh-huh," the elderly Asian woman says, shaking her head, but a smile
peeking at the corners of her mouth.

~*~*~

Meanwhile, back in Sunday Park, a young couple, one among many, is
taking midday stroll. Leyla and Gabe are holding hands tightly, but
not because they're feeling romantic. "Squeeze your hands any tighter
and they'll fall off," Doggett says in Leyla's earpiece. "Ease off a
bit, would ya? And stop a minute and breath, okay?"

"Okay," Leyla bites her lower lip.

"Huh?" Gabe blinks.

She grins up at her boyfriend, laughing nervously. "Sorry, my boss
was just talking in my ear. He says to breathe and not hold hands so
tightly."

"Oh, yeah, that's a good idea, sure, okay," he babbles.

In the surveillance van, Doggett hits his head against the heel of
his hand. "Ugh," he groans while Lieutenant Redmond chuckles. "If
this is what I have to look forward to with my sons, I hope they
never date."

"Could be worse, they could be real players," the black lieutenant
consoles him. Sort of.

"Thanks." Doggett rolls his eyes. "Officers, anyone suspicious yet?"

They all shake their heads, keeping their eyes and ears on the
monitors.

Gabe, not having an earpiece, is thankfully oblivious to what Leyla's
hearing. He picks a flower from an overhanging tree branch, then
says, "Leyla."

She jumps as if startled, and they both laugh nervously. "Uh, yeah?"

"Here," her boyfriend says, brushing her hair back from her left ear
and tucking the pale flower there. "Even if we are doing this for
your job, it's nice to be able to hang out with you like this."

Leyla's smile deepens, and he smiles back. "Gabe, even if we don't
get the guy today, I just want to thank you again," she says, and
hugs him.

"Awwwwww," the crew in the surveillance truck chorus.

"Oh, shut up," she mutters, then shakes her head at Gabe's
questioning look. "It's nothing."

As they stand on the bridge, they're unaware of a mist that surrounds
them, an unseasonable mist that hides the lake from the park regulars
and the surveillance team, rendering them as a light grey on the
black-and-white monitors. The surveillance team can still hear them,
and mistake other park-goers as their targets.

Suddenly, they hear Gabe yell, "Ow!" and Leyla's panicked voice
saying, "Gabe, where are you? Gabe?"

And then there's the odd silence among the noise of families playing
and the occasional dog barking.

The officers on surveillance look at each other. "Where are they?"
they babble amongst themselves, trying to get confirmation from
either Agent Leyla Harrison or Gabe Rotter. Doggett wastes no time
getting out of the surveillance van and doesn't bother about the
slight mist that surrounds the lake. Hitting the bridge, his blue
eyes look for the couple and finds only one body lying there.

"Get an ambulance," he says into his earpiece, "we've got an agent
down!"

~*~*~

Leyla wakes up in a hospital bed, her head aching like she's had a
bad hangover, but no buzz. "What happened?" she asks.

"I was hoping you could tell me," Doggett says, "the police closed
the park down and are looking for your boyfriend."

"They got Gabe?" Leyla sits up, then groans, holding her head.
"Owwwww..."

"Yeah," her boss says, now regretfully. "Dammit. I can't get how he'd
get past us!" And he glares at the wall, as if it could tell him the
answers.

Leyla, still holding her head, suddenly sits up straight again, her
eyes wide. "Lancelot," she breathes.

"What?" the steel-eyed agent asks, turning to her.

"Lancelot," the blonde agent repeats. "You know, one of the knights
of the Round Table?" She sighs, seeing his patented
she's-talking-crazy-talk look on his face. "When I was a kid, I was
hooked on King Arthur, so much so that I even learned the coat of
arms of each knight, in all variations. And the last thing I saw in
that mist was a huge shield coming at me, bearing Lancelot's coat of
arms."

Now he's just staring at her, wondering if he's hearing the head
trauma. "Leyla," he starts.

"Listen," she says, her eyes focused and intense in spite of the
blaring pain in her head, "find out why that lake's called Lancelot
Lake, and when they got all those lilies and the bridge built.
Because that bridge wasn't always there, and I've got a feeling the
timeline matches up with our perp."

"Do you know what you're saying?" Doggett asks, a little impatiently.
"You're saying that a knight of the Round Table is killing couples
off in Georgia since six months ago, not in England hundreds of years
ago."

Leyla gives him a level look. "He managed to take down King Arthur's
enemies as well as Camelot itself," she says, "what's a few civilians
to him?"

He shakes his head, then pats her shoulder. "Get some rest," he says,
"call me when you feel better."

She nods, then winces. "Find out when the bridge was built," she
whimpers, sinking back onto the bed, "find Gabe, please."

He nods, and waits until she's asleep before he leaves. Then he
sighs, "Dammit. What mist was she talking about? And why was she left
alive?"

~*~*~

To Doggett's consternation, it seems Leyla's hunch is proven correct
in some respect. The bridge, along with the lilies and some of the
surrounding flora, were bought from some down-and-out British
landowner in a deal made a couple of years ago with the former mayor.
The lake was renamed "Lancelot" to give it some class or something,
and it wasn't long after that couples started dying. And after
reviewing the surveillance tapes, there was a mist that nobody really
noticed. He slams the table. "Why the hell didn't we notice earlier?"
he growls at the monitors.

"Agent Doggett, ease up on the cheap table," Redmond says, "it can't
hit back. And nobody really came back from the dead to let us know
about that mist thing, either."

Doggett turns with a scowl, but exhales slowly. "Sorry. You're right.
But I refuse to believe some mythical guy is killing off lovers here
in America."

"You and me both," Redmond agrees. "Your agent's got some pretty
interesting ideas, though. Somebody's obviously riding on that crazy
train, though, thinking he's some kind of anti-knight in shining
armor." Then he frowns. "Thing is, though, if he thinks he's a
knight, why doesn't he just kill them with a sword or something? I
mean, wouldn't that make sense? Why go through the trouble of
knocking them out, then strangling them, then drowning them? That
kind of overkill doesn't make sense, even if we're talking crazy guy
acting like a knight."

Doggett grins a little. "Yeah, you're right. If Ley-, er, Agent
Harrison's right, why would someone carry around a shield but not
bother using their sword?" he wonders, then answers his own question.
"Unless he doesn't have a sword."

The black lieutenant gives him a look. "What kind of crazy person who
thinks he's a knight carries around a shield but not a sword? A
crazy, crazy person?"

The two men laugh, then shake their heads. And then Doggett gets a
call from Reyes. "Oh, you found a house already?" he says, with some
irony. Then his eyebrows go up. "Hob-what? Really? Oh, boy," he
groans. "Okay, we'll go over the paperwork together when I get back.
Oh, speaking of strange things, hard to believe, but Leyla was right
about some things. Yeah, the bridge, plants, park decorations brought
over from England coincide with the couple killings. I think a
hitchhiker came along, some kinda King Arthur nut got here, but Leyla
thinks it's Lancelot. Yeah, the original guy from the stories. Yeah,
yeah." He rolls his eyes. "Love you." He smiles, then hangs up.

"I take it that's the wife?" Redmond asks. "You usually discuss cases
with her?"

Doggett smiles. "Well, she's normally my partner, but since she's on
vacation to get us a new house," he shrugs. "Fortunately, she got
one, so she's starting up the paperwork process while I'm here."

The black lieutenant gives him a look. "Wow, I thought the FBI
frowned against couples working together."

Doggett blinks, then shakes his head. "Not really," he says, "in
fact, she's helped me out more times than I can recall. But since
she's getting along in her pregnancy, I don't want to bring her in
now that the suspect is stepping up his game. After all, he's not
only capable of killing multiple people, but knocking out an agent
and taking a civilian in plain sight." Then he corrects himself.
"Well, not plain sight, but taking advantage of weather conditions,"
he sighs. "What the hell is going on?"

Redmond looks at him, then at the replay of the mist rolling back to
reveal the lone Agent Harrison lying on the bridge. "You tell me," he
says.

~*~*~

"Something's not right," Leyla frowns as Doggett drives her out of
the hospital. She's got a lovely gauze bandage wrapped around her
head, which he uses to excuse her interesting thinking past and
present. "All I saw was the shield coming at me - why didn't he kill
me?"

"Who knows what crazies think?" Doggett says rhetorically. "Why did
he take your boyfriend?"

"Exactly!" Leyla turns to him, but his eyes are on the road. "Why
/would/ he take my boyfriend? So far, all he's done is kill couples,
why suddenly spare me and take Gabe? It doesn't make sense?"

"Neither does using a shield as an offensive weapon without using a
better offensive weapon, a sword - and how the hell did he get it
past the cops and the public?" Doggett continues to wonder aloud.

The blonde agent pulls out a book she got from the hospital store.
"Hopefully this should give us some answers," she says.

Doggett slides his eyes over for a brief moment. "Are you serious?"
he asks.

She nods. "It's a good idea to check out the source material, isn't
it?" she says, holding onto her paperback of "Arthurian Legends".

Her boss groans, then shakes his head. "Nobody's found any trace of
Gabe yet," he says, "we put out a missing persons on him, and
forensics are still going through everything with a fine tooth comb."

Leyla looks somber for a moment. "Actually, one would think /I'd/ be
the one taken, not Gabe," she says after a while. "Lancelot had a
habit of attracting blondes."

"Maybe he wanted to take out the competition?" Doggett suggests.

She shakes her head. "Then he would've just killed off couple number
two's boyfriend," she says, "Since the girlfriend was blonde. No,
this is definitely strange," she frowns, opening the book.

And when Doggett drops her off at her hotel room, she's still
engrossed in the book of fairytales.

~*~*~

Webber, GA
12:36 p.m.

"This is depressing," Doggett tells his partner, who was happily
babbling about the new house and its currently-unseen inhabitants.

"What? What's depressing?" Reyes breaks out of her happy
house-bubble. "That you haven't found Leyla's boyfriend yet?"

"Partly," he says, "and partly that we haven't found any trace of him
or his abductor. I mean, for God's sake, he's a grown man, one
shouldn't be able to take a grown man and not leave any trace! I
mean, even deadbeat dads leave some kind of trail." And he huffs,
scowling. "Jeez, I'm tempted to rip off the bridge and start digging
if that's what it takes!"

"Wow, you don't take losing lightly, do you?" Reyes says, her tone
light but admiration in her voice. "John, what about what Leyla
said?"

"What do you mean?" Doggett says, his tone less hostile than it would
be to anyone else.

Reyes smiles as she practically sees him trying to hold his natural
skepticism back. "What I mean is," she says, "have you tried to
divine the supernatural from the park? The lake, specifically. After
all, Lancelot's full name was Lancelot du Lac, that is, Lancelot of
the Lake, adopted by the Lady of the Lake who gave Arthur his new
sword."

"We've been dragging the lake and come up with nothing but lily pads
and trash," Doggett retorts. "No knights in soggy armor there, or a
guy in t-shirt and jeans for that matter."

There's a pause, and then Reyes says, "I'm not saying that they're in
the physical lake. If you're dealing with the supernatural, and a
legend at that, there must be some way Lancelot survived living under
water, and hopefully, he's allowing Gabe to live the same way, too.
Oh, and does Gabe have a link to the supernatural? I mean, is he
sensitive to the occult, had a curse placed on him, seen ghosts, that
sort of thing?"

"Not that I know of," Doggett admits, "I'll ask Leyla. You think that
might've marked him out to be taken?"

"Perhaps," Reyes says, "but it's just a theory. Besides, I'm still
not sure why Lancelot would be killing couples. Do you know if the
area the bridge and everything came from had murders? Perhaps that's
why the British landowner decided to sell it to some random American
politician."

"I'll check it out," Doggett says, "you get some rest, now."

"I've got plenty of rest," his lovely partner on vacation retorts,
"it's you that sounds like you've got gravel in your throat, mister."

"Maybe I'll find a place that sells that nasty tea you like to drink
and I'll sound as gorgeous as you look." Doggett grins.

"Oh, brother." Reyes rolls her eyes, but laughs. "My tea is awesome
and it's called Darjeeling." She spells it out for him, and adds,
"Good luck, John."

His grin fades. "Wish Leyla and Gabe luck. They need it more than I
do."

"Then I wish them the best," Reyes says in the same tone. "I love
you."

"Love you, too," Doggett says, and after hanging up, opens his
laptop.

His cell rings when his internet connection finally comes up, and he
answers, "Doggett," to the now-familiar number.

"We found a shield," Lieutenant Redmond says, with no little wonder
in his voice.

~*~*~

Webber Police Station
1:52 p.m.

Leyla is sitting in the morgue, looking eerily like a corpse herself
with her pale skin and lifeless eyes. "It's an honest-to-God
battle-tested British shield," she says in a monotone when Doggett
walks in, "carbon dating came back to 500 B.C. It shouldn't even be
in this condition, it should be rotting in pieces somewhere in a
museum."

"But it's not Lancelot's, is it?" Doggett asks.

"According to the books, it's the same design," the blonde agent says
in that same dull voice. "Unless this is a really good fake, this is
the shield of Lancelot du Lac."

"I'm sorry, we didn't find anything of Gabe's," Doggett starts off.

"You won't," Leyla says, and now there's a snap in her tone, life in
her eyes. "That bitch has him."

"Who?" Doggett stares at her. "That Lady of the Lake chick?" he says,
recalling what Reyes told him.

"No," Leyla says, pulling on a sweater that looks more like Gabe's
style than her own, "Elaine of Astolat."

"Who?" Doggett repeats, really lost now.

The thin blonde agent looks up at him. "I've been doing research,"
she says. "And the overblown method of execution, the fact that
couples were killed in the first place, and the fact that this
happened in a small town called Shalott, where the bridge and the
plants came from." Her large blue eyes narrow. "And if you've read
English literature, Tennyson wrote a couple of poems about Elaine."

"I managed to forget most of that," Doggett admits, but not trusting
the look in his junior partner's eyes, adds, "but why don't you
enlighten me as to why this is our suspect?"

She glares at a point on the wall. "She fell in love with Lancelot,
but he was in love with Guinevere. So she killed herself and sent
herself down the river to Camelot, according to Tennyson. But legend
has it that with the help of her maid, she disguised herself as
Guinevere and Lancelot slept with her, and the child she bore,
Galahad, was the one to find the Holy Grail."

"Like I said, why would she be our suspect?" Doggett prods her again,
although he's wondering why he's entertaining the idea of mythical
(and long-dead) characters being serial killers in the first place.

Now the blonde agent whips her gaze at him, and he finds a steely
fanaticism in them. "Because she's an overwrought teeny-bopper that
had to disguise herself as someone else to get her first crush to
sleep with her, and some delicate poet had to kill her off rather
than describe her as the sick, desperate slut she was!"

Her supervisor blinks. Okay, maybe it was a good thing he never hung
out with the Lit majors in college. "Um, you do realize we're talking
about a fictional character here, right?" he asks as gently as he
can.

Now she looks at him like he's the crazy one to be pitied, which
drives him nuts, and points to the shield. "That's not fictional, is
it? Nor are the bodies in this room," she waves at the wall filled
with the couple-killer's corpses. "And according to legend, Elaine
kept Lancelot's shield until he could return."

"Like you said, LEGEND," Doggett stresses the word. "And there's no
proof that a woman did it."

"There's no proof that there isn't," Leyla counters. "Look, even I
can lift this shield," she says, and does it easily. "It's just
reinforced wood with leather bands, someone like me could swing it
around and hit someone."

"Please don't," Doggett says, getting her to put down the shield.
"Okay, so a woman could lift this shield. But when women resort to
violence, they usually have a more effective weapon to kill someone,
rather than strangulation and drowning."

"She never got his sword," Leyla says, as if reminding him, "and if
she's as overemotional as legend has it, she's killing couples out of
jealousy. She'd use the shield as a weapon because it was Lancelot's,
but the strangling and drowning, those are such medieval chick
things."

"Uh-huh," Doggett says, wondering if she's truly gone off the deep
end, now that Gabe's gone.

"And Gabe's still alive," she says, answering his unsaid comment,
"because she thinks he's Lancelot."

"What?" Now he's pretty damn sure she's lost it.

"He's tall, dark and handsome, just like Lancelot's described," Leyla
says in earnest, "and that bitch probably wanted me out of the way so
she could have her way with him! Dammit!" And she grabs her huge bag.
"Let's go!"

"Wait, we're just hypothesizing, right?" Doggett says, getting
dragged by this little wisp of an agent.

She turns around and gives him a look that he usually gives to
others. "Hell, no," she says, and hauls him out of there.

~*~*~

Sunday Park

The park has been closed ever since Gabe Rotter disappeared, but the
police have still had to chase off would-be lovers, oblivious
families, and curious reporters in the meantime. So it's up to
Doggett to flash his badge, because the slender blonde has somehow
managed to push past the blockade like a veteran linebacker, and it
takes him a few steps farther back from her than he'd like.

A strange mist, like a temporary fog, hangs over the lake, slowly
rising to the foot of the bridge. "Give him back!" Leyla shouts once
she hits the bridge. "That's MY man, you bitch, and you know it!"

"Age- Leyla!" Doggett hollers, not wanting to identify her publicly
as an FBI agent. "What the hell are you doing?"

"What I should've done as soon as I knew who it was!" she yells back,
and jumps off the bridge into the lake, the mist dissipating as soon
as she hits the water.

"Oh, shit," Doggett sighs, then yanks off his windbreaker and tie and
dives in after her, followed by the lake-dragging team. But to his
consternation, none of them found Leyla Harrison, even after half an
hour. "Shit!"

"Sorry, Agent," Lieutenant Redmond says, looking every bit of his
years and then some, handing Doggett a towel. "But if we got that
shield, we'll get bodies somehow."

Doggett doesn't answer him, wiping himself off. Of all the ways to
lose an agent and a civilian, this pretty much tops the suck list, to
quote his sons. He exhales heavily, then raises his weary eyes to the
lake, which looks damnably placid after the divers and the nets went
through. "I can't believe this," he mutters. Common sense dictates
that he files a report as soon as possible to cover his ass for this
tremendous snafu that just exploded in his face, but there's a
horrible emptiness inside, sapping him of any will to bother.
Besides, if he can't look after his own agents and civilians under
his care, what right does he have to even explain away his disturbing
lack of judgment? Putting his head in his hands, he sighs again,
"Shit."

The black lieutenant knows better than to try to comfort this man,
but merely nods. "That about covers it," he says, his hands in his
pockets.

And the two men stay there, as the search team tries again with sonar
as well as nets, for another couple of hours. And as before, they
come up with no bodies. The senior female officer gets out of the
boat and makes her way to where the two men are, looking like grim
gargoyles. "I'm sorry," Officer Daniels says, looking dejected as she
takes off her lifevest. "I'm really sorry."

"Yeah," Doggett says, sounding as terrible as he feels. He finally
stands, and it seems that he's been sitting there for years instead
of hours, he feels that old and horrible. "Me, too."

~*~*~

And something breaks through the still waters, a gasp, a splash,
where there should be none. To the incredulous eyes of the police
force and lone FBI agent, arms flail in the lake, and a high-pitched
"Fuck!" splits the calm air.

"Get the boat back out!" Doggett shouts, and he beats Officer Daniels
and the others back to said boat. "Come on!" And it took his
impatient hands very little time to start the motor, but it was still
too slow for him.

"Doggett!" Leyla flails with her free hand, her unconscious boyfriend
firmly gripped with her other arm. "Help!"

"Coming!" he hollers back, although they're making good time. And the
seconds before they reached the couple seems like forever to him, but
he and Officer Daniels hauls them into the boat, and speed off just
as quickly to shore.

There are towels and an ambulance waiting, but Doggett gives his
subordinate a quick shake before hugging her. "You scared me half to
death," he says, not realizing that tears are falling from his eyes.
"I thought I lost the both of you."

And, improbably, she smiles, but her attention is on the emergency
team attends to Gabe. "I took it too personally," she says, "I was
afraid of losing him forever."

"What the hell happened?" Doggett says. "We couldn't find either of
you for a couple of hours."

Now her eyes shift to her boss, and her smile becomes lopsided. "You
wouldn't believe me even if I told you," she replies.

He sighs. Yep, she's still Leyla, he thinks. "Just tell me, I'll make
my own decisions about belief or not. Besides, you still have to turn
in a report."

"Oh, yeah," she says weakly. "Um, would you believe I kicked a
princess-looking teenage girl's ass?"

He stares at her for a moment. "You're kidding, right?"

She shakes her head, looking at the lake. "You can see everything
from where she is," she says, "it seems like the bottom of the lake,
but it isn't. Well, the best view is of the bridge overhead, and I
guess she was sick of looking at happy couples being all lovey-dovey
above her. She tried to deny it but," she folds her arms, "I knew
better. Besides, it was hard to miss as she had my poor Gabe all tied
up like a Thanksgiving turkey, looking all drugged and everything."
One of the EMTs look up at the "drug" remark, then sticks a syringe
into the sleeping man's arm. "So I had to pound some sense into her."

Doggett raises his eyebrows. "You're serious? You beat up some girl
at the bottom of the lake?" he juts his thumb out to the lake in
question.

Leyla shakes her head again. "See, you don't believe me! But so what!
I found my boyfriend and the bad guy's dead, that's what counts,
right?"

Man, I hope Hannah doesn't grow up to be this crazy, he thinks, I
should spend more time with my little girl. "She's really dead? She
won't hurt anyone else?"

The blonde agent nods. "She killed herself," she says
matter-of-factly, "after I told her Gabe really wasn't Lancelot, who
had really died hundreds of years ago in a monastery after repenting
for his lust for Guinevere."

"How the hell do you know this stuff - don't answer that," he says
quickly. "So, she just killed herself after you told her that?"

"Well, she did a lot of screaming and crying, but essentially, yeah,"
Leyla agrees. "And whatever force or magic she used to keep the air
down there started to weaken, so I got my knife out of my bag and
freed Gabe as fast as I could, and by the time I figured out how to
carry him, the water came rushing in." She shudders, reliving the
memory. "I took as much breath as I could, but it's still pretty
deep," she says, and when the EMTs start wheeling Gabe into the
ambulance, she adds, "I'd better go with them. I'll call you."

Doggett nods, giving her shoulder a squeeze before letting her join
her boyfriend in the ambulance. The whole thing was too unbelievable,
even if it was the X-Files. Some legendary girl living underwater
with an unrequited crush killing people, then kidnapping some guy?
That'll never make sense, no matter which way you slice it, he
thinks. And Leyla of all people getting to the bottom of it,
literally, and getting her boyfriend back. "Sure hope he's worth it,"
he mutters softly as the ambulance disappears out of view.

~*~*~

Doggett and Reyes' current home
November 17, 2003
11:11 p.m.

To his sons' surprise and his daughter's glee, Doggett was hugging
everyone when he came home. And it didn't take long for him to get
from signing papers in the living room to carrying her to the
bedroom, to his partner's glee. "Well, I guess it was the happiest
ending one could hope for," Reyes says once he debriefs her on the
case. "After all, nobody should have to live that long with that much
of a crush."

Doggett shakes his head, pulling off his jacket and tie. "And I can't
believe you're taking her side. Is Hannah safe with you?"

His partner sticks her tongue out, bounding into bed. "I'll have you
know she's learning all the right stuff from fairy tales," she tells
him.

"Oh?" he raises his eyebrows. "Like what?"

Reyes smiles. "Like if she ever thinks she's got a prince charming,
she should bring him home so her wise parents can see if that's
true."

"Okay, yeah," he grudgingly concedes her point. "Did you tell her the
boy would have to go through her brothers and father if he wants to
come near to my little princess?"

"I'll wait until the time comes to spring it on her," Reyes' smile
turns impish, "that way, we can surprise him, too."

"Damn, I love you, woman," he growls, and she whoops as he takes her
in his arms and kisses her, and she kisses him right back. "I'm so
glad to be with a real woman who takes care of business when I'm out
and isn't a complete flake."

Now Reyes raises her eyebrows. "Oh, so you think my ideas have merit,
then?" she challenges him.

"Mm, sometimes," he buries his answer in her shoulder, and she
laughs.

"You do realize what this means, don't you?" she asks, and he looks
at her. "It means we're gonna have some great sex tonight." And she
winks before taking off her top.

"Hot damn," Doggett breathes, then practically tears his FBI-approved
shirt off. "I love you, Monica," he says, kissing her again.

"I know." She smiles, taking off his belt before moving on to his
pants, "but it's nice to hear that." And she didn't say anything more
for a while, since her mouth and hands were busy between his legs.
He, on the other hand, had quite a bit to say, including more "I love
you's.

~*~*~

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Seven
"All Done. Bye Bye"


Down the Street from Mulder and Scully's
November 29th, 2003

Though the process to close on the house feels like it takes forever,
it actually goes pretty quickly. Contracts are signed, the old family
has already moved out so they don't have to wait for that, and
Doggett and Reyes box everything up in both of their apartments -
though by that point most of her possessions are already in his. On
the Saturday after Thanksgiving, the five of them have been
green-lighted to move in, and they waste no time doing so.

To Doggett's relief, half an hour after they arrive in the moving
truck Mulder shows up with Page, Sammy, and April, all eager to help
out. They give the four kids the lighter boxes to tote in, and there
are a lot of them considering that Reyes packed all their clothes in
smaller boxes. They put Hannah "in charge" and she nearly puffs up
with pride as she shows her young friends where to put things.

"Thanks a lot for coming over," Doggett tells Mulder as they each
take an end of a dresser that needs to come off the moving truck.

"No problem. If you'd lived in DC back when we inherited our house,
I'm sure you would have helped us move."

"Sure. And if you move-"

Mulder shakes his head. "Don't even say it. Scully doesn't want to
move again, ever. And I feel pretty much the same way."

"Right, I won't jinx you by talking about it."

They wrestle the dresser inside, dodging around Luke and Gibson who
are struggling with a coffee table before either says anything else.
"Is it true you let Monica go out with agent Harrison yesterday? I
wouldn't want Scully facing those Black Friday crowds five months
pregnant."

"Let?" Doggett snorts with disbelief. "Have you met Monica? Or your
wife for that matter? There's no letting when it comes to either of
them."

"You're right. It's more in the nature of suggesting-"

"And being ignored."

"Well, maybe. But not always."

Doggett gives Mulder a pointed look. 

"No really. I think my suggestions have been followed at least five
times."

"And you've been married how long?"

"Nine years. Ten in February, actually."

"Uh huh." Doggett smirks at him.

"So, with that defeatist attitude, does that mean you're not going to
even bother making suggestions about what to name the baby?"

"I actually have a devious plan about that."

"Oh?"

"Now that she's showing, I've gotten the kids to refer to the baby as
something she hates. That'll put my suggestions in a better light by
comparison."

"I didn't think you had it in you. What have you got the kids calling
little whatzit?"

"Lump."

Mulder winces. "Tell me that she doesn't know you put them up to it."

"Nope."

"You better hope she doesn't find out... or that one of them doesn't
try to blackmail you over it."

"Blackmail? You don't think-"

"Aren't the boys grounded for a few more months?"

This stops Doggett in his tracks. "Maybe I'll relent and give them
back their video games at Christmas."

Mulder shrugs. "If you want to take the chance. Personally, I'd be
thinking about driver's ed. They're seniors, you want them to be able
to drive before they go to college, don't you?"

"And let them damage someone else's property some more?"

"They'll never improve if you don't give them a shot at learning,"
Mulder tells him. "But what do I know? My oldest is nine."

"Page will be sixteen before you can believe it. They grow up so
fast."

Just as Doggett says that, Hannah and Page run by wearing all of
Reyes' scarves. They dangle down to the girls' feet, and they giggle
and try not to trip over them.

"Maybe not that fast," Mulder corrects him.

"Yeah. You up for the mattress next?"

"Bring it on."

~*~*~

Mulder-Scully Home
The Next Day

"...so Sammy insisted that Mulder bring William with him. He did the
same thing the night the twins were born too, and we can't quite
figure out why he's so concerned with Will missing out on anything,"
Scully tells her mother while pouring coffee.

"It's probably because he's the last boy. Bill could get that way
about Charlie sometimes too."

"Really? I don't remember that." Scully scoops up a fussing Brianna
who has tired of playing in the baby jumper that has been a permanent
fixture of the panty doorway for years. Now that both of the babies
are walking, though unsteadily, they find the jumper less fun.

"You just didn't notice," Maggie says as she dandles Zoe on her lap.
The kitchen isn't overrun by children for a change because Mulder
took most of them to pick out a Christmas tree. "Dana, you won't
believe who I ran into."

"Who?" 

"Ethan," Maggie tells her over a pointed look. 

"Really."

"Yes. I'll admit I was a bit nervous to speak to him."

"Why?" Scully asks as she pulls her mug away from Brianna's questing
fingers and hands the baby a teething biscuit instead.

"Well...You know that I think you and Fox are perfect together, but
it didn't take very long before you moved on from Ethan to him."

Her mother's comment leaves her feeling a bit defensive, "A year
isn't long enough?"

"A year?" Maggie looks puzzled. "Was it really that long?"

"The first time Mulder and I had..." Scully pauses just long enough
to make a quick mental substitution, "a date was a year and a couple
of weeks after I decided it wasn't going to work out with Ethan."

"Oh. It didn't seem that long to me. Anyway, he asked me how you
were, if you married, and if you had kids. The usual stuff. I
wondered at first if he was fishing, but he smiled and pulled out his
billfold to show me pictures of his two children."

"Boys or girls?"

"Girls." Maggie smiles, making Scully wonder why. "His oldest is a
couple of months older than Page."

"It figures. I'm glad that he found someone to settle down with
quickly."

"He was a nice boy. But unlike your father, I knew when you brought
him to see us that December that the relationship was coming to a
swift end."

"Why? Did you feel like he was pressuring me?" Scully asks, thinking
about how she'd felt like Ethan wanted to make things permanent by
that point.

Maggie shakes her head. "I could tell from the way you talked about
him, and about how you talked about Fox, which one you were going to
be happy with. Settling down with Ethan would have been settling. You
aren't the type to pick what's easy over what's right."

"Thanks?"

Her mother pats her hand. "When you brought Ethan home that time, he
started to talk to me about Fox."

"You're kidding."

"I'm not. We were grabbing the plates for lunch from the kitchen, and
he took the opportunity to ask me if he ought to be worried about
Fox. I hedged a bit, asking him instead why he thought he might need
to. He wouldn't say, and I didn't have the heart to tell him that if
he had to ask me that, he'd already lost you. So, as you can imagine,
it came as no surprise to me that you broke up with him after that."

Scully tilts her head. "This is where Missy gets the 'ESP run in the
family' stuff."

"I'm not psychic, Dear. I just read people well. I think it's fair to
say it's a trait that I passed along to both of my girls."

"And April."

"But not Charlie or Bill. Speaking of Bill, have you talked to him
lately?"

"I gave him a call at Thanksgiving."

Maggie looks slightly frustrated. "I think you should call him
again."

"Why?"

Maggie's lips compress into a thin line. "It's not my place to say."

"Mom!"

Maggie refuses to explain her comment, leaving Scully to stew.

~*~*~

That Afternoon

Mulder wanders into the room while Scully is on the phone, and only
hears her side of the conversation. "You're kidding. Seriously? ...
Well, how do you feel about that? ... No, I don't blame you. It'll be
rough. But it's good, though, right? ... Give my love to Tara."

It's only the final comment that clues him in. "Your brother?" he
asks as she hangs up.

"Yes. My mother insisted I call him, and refused to tell me why."

"Well?"

"Apparently Mattie wasn't the only one who thought that there should
be more kids in their family, because they've been undergoing
treatment with fertility drugs for several months, and they learned a
couple months ago that the treatment finally took."

"Is there something wrong with the baby? I could only hear your end
of the conversation, but it didn't sound as overjoyed as I'd expect
news of a baby would."

"Turns out that they did an ultrasound yesterday, and there's more
than one baby."

"Twins?"

Scully shakes her head. "More than two." 

"Triplets?"

"I don't know. He won't tell me how many more than two."

Mulder's eyes widen in surprise. "He won't tell you?"

"They want to see how things go before they tell people how many
babies they're expecting." She left the obvious implication that they
wanted to see how many were likely to survive to birth unsaid, but he
read between the lines.

"I guess I can understand that. Triplets, or more God forbid, are
high risk."

"Especially at Tara's age - she just turned forty." Scully frowns. "I
know I shouldn't feel upset that they want to keep any losses to
themselves, but he's my brother. Shouldn't he feel safe telling me?"

Mulder pulls her to him. "He should, but this is your brother we're
talking about. He has more trust issues than I do, and that's saying
a lot."

She smiles, apparently slightly mollified. "'Trust No One' hasn't
been your motto for quite a long time now."

"You've made me go soft, Scully."

"Have I?" she asks with a naughty smile that she accompanies with
roaming fingers.

He looks down at the space between them. "You know I mean
figuratively, right?"

"Uh huh," she murmurs, distracted. He doesn't mind being used to keep
her mind off what's troubling her. No, he doesn't mind at all.

~*~*~

Doggett-Reyes Home
December 5th, 2003

What starts out a typical boring Friday afternoon turns strange for
Gibson when he hears Luke up in his room just after they get off the
bus.

"What happened?!" 

Gibson can't understand the rush of images he's getting from his
brother, so he runs up the stairs. "What the hell?" Gibson wonders
aloud.

Both boys have been enjoying having their own rooms, but there
something wrong with Luke's: what used to be half a dozen pairs of
socks have been cut into ribbons.

Gibson takes one look at the former socks, and backs out of the room.
"Hannah! Hannah, what did you do to Luke's socks?"

Luke follows him out. "Gib, she's still at school, remember?"

"What?"

"She won't be home for half an hour," Luke reminds him.

"Then what happened?"

"I don't know. Did you check your room?"

"What?" Gibson pushes past him. There's a loud groan, and then,
"we'll have to tell Dad that we need socks and underwear."

"Crap," Luke whispers. Then, louder, "Should we check the other
bedrooms first?"

"Guess so."

John and Monica's room looks untouched, but Hannah's laundry has
suffered causalities too. "Since when did she have this many pairs of
tights?"

"Not since now, anyway."

"Who did this?" Gibson wonders. "Somebody has a real grudge against
clean laundry."

"Or what did it?"

"Don't tell me that you believe Monica's hobgoblins stuff."

"Do you have a better theory?"

Gibson shrugs.

Predictably, the first thing they hear when Hannah gets home is a
dismayed wail, "My tights!"

Luke goes to comfort his sister. "Don't worry, I called Monica and
told her what happened. She said she'd stop at the store on her way
home."

"I need to use the phone," Hannah says as she bolts from the room.

 "Who do you know to call?"

She ignores him and head to the kitchen phone.

Luke shrugs, and goes back to his room to start his homework. He
doesn't get very far before Hannah runs in. "I need you to bring me
to the store."

"I told you, Monica's going replace the stuff that got ruined."

"That's not why I need to go to the store."

"Hannah, I need to do my homework!"

"But I need to go now!"

"Maybe Gibson can take you." 

She storms out of the room before the words are all the way out of
his mouth.

~*~*~

An hour later 

"Hey, look, want to play Tony Hawk's 3? I still can't believe that
dad said moving means we're ungrounded."

"Me neither. What did Hannah wanna buy anyway?"

"Dunno."

"You wouldn't take her either? Where is she, sulking in her room?"

When they check her room, the lights are off, and then room is
completely empty.

"Hannah?!"

~*~*~

Kit's Konvenience 
Several Minutes Later

A bell tinkles as Mulder enters, and the counter person Gary, smiles.
"Let me guess, diapers?"

"You called it."

"How many you got in diapers still?"

"Dana's got our youngest boy in pull ups now, so just the last two
girls."

"Bet you're looking forward to only seeing my ugly face when you need
milk."

Mulder laughs and grabs the diapers.

He only gets a couple of feet out of the store when he hears a voice
shout, "Mr. Mulder!"
 Luke is nearly out of breath when he reaches him.

"Where's the fire?"

"There is no fire," Luke says, obviously anxious, and now confused as
well. "Have you seen my sister?"

"Hannah's missing?"

"She wanted to go to the store but we had homework. When we checked
on her once we were done she was gone. Gibson stayed at home, waiting
to see if she comes back on her own." Luke cranes his neck to look
into the windows. "Is she in there?"

"I don't see her. But let's ask the clerk if he's seen her."

Mulder drags Luke into the store, and Gary tells him that she was
there... 15 minutes earlier.

"Where is she?" Luke cries in exasperation when they exit the store.
Looking up and down the road does not reveal a dark-haired
eight-year-old.

"Should we call the police? Do you have your phone with you?" Luke
gives him a hopeful look.

"Actually, no. It's recharging. Let's go to my house and call your
dad from there. It's closer."

"Okay." Luke sounds more than a little wobbly.


"Thanks-" Luke starts to say as they pull into the driveway of
Mulder's home. "Hannah?!"

There, sitting on the front stoop, is Hannah. She looks worried, and
is clutching a bag from Kit's.

Luke nearly trips in his rush to get to his sister. "What are you
doing here?"

"I tried to go back home, but I got lost. I found here instead."

"Why don't you knock on the door?" Mulder asked gently. "Dana or
Michelle would have let you in."

"I wasn't invited, and Daddy says it's not polite to invite yourself
to someone's to home."

Mulder can't argue against her training in manners, so he merely
shrugs internally. "Well, let me give both you a ride home."

"Thanks!" they chorus.

~*~*~

Gibson looks both relieved and angry when Mulder drops his siblings
off. "Why did you wander off like that?" he practically shouts at
Hannah.

Instead of cringing as one might expect Hannah sets her chin
defiantly. "You wouldn't take me, and April said we need this stuff.
I wouldn't have gone on my own if it wasn't important."

"April?" Luke asks. "That's who you called? Why??"

"Didn't you listen when she told us 'bout the tommy knockers and how
they got them to be nice?"

"Not really. How did they tame them?"

"Fed 'em stuff they liked." Hannah rattles the bag from Kit's. "I got
them food I think they'd like."

"You spent your allowance?"

Hannah nods, and then hands her brothers packages of Twinkies.

"Thanks," Luke says, giving her a hug. "If this works will pay you
back." Gibson glares at him. "Fine, even if it doesn't work, we'll
pay you back our share."

"If it doesn't work, we get a snack." Gibson grins at the two of
them.

~*~*~

Though he's only been gone for twenty minutes, no one is where he
left them when he went out for diapers. The kids greet him cheerfully
but Scully almost seems to be hiding.

When he finds her in their bedroom, she is giving a card he doesn't
recognize a pensive look. "What's up?" he asks.

"I got an invitation to a Christmas party at my friend Ellen's."

"You don't want to go?"

"I don't know. We've kept in touch through cards and sporadic e-mails
since you and I got married, but I haven't seen her in years."

"Why not?" He's always been curious as to why she didn't keep up her
friendships.

She shrugs. "We were always so busy with the X-Files that there never
seem to be the time for seeing her or Cathy."

"Maybe now's the time to reconnect," he suggests. "Besides that award
show back during the spring, we haven't been traveling since joining
the show."

"Maybe..."

"I know that look. If Ellen was angry at you, she wouldn't have
invited you."

"You wouldn't mind going?"

"No, not at all," he fibs cheerfully. Meeting a bunch of strangers
smacks of tedium, but he'd do it to make her happy.

"All right. I'll let her know will be there."

"Great."

~*~*~

Film Studio
December 12th, 2003

"And that's a rap!"

No sooner are the words out of the director's mouth does Mary Green
break into a grin. "Finally. I can't be the only one who is looking
forward to some time off."

Like most TV shows, Jose Chung's The Truth is Out There goes on
hiatus in December, though on their network it's replaced by seasonal
programming like Santa Claus Conquers the Martians rather than
Charlie Brown's Christmas.

"We are," Mulder admits.

Reed sneers at them all. "I suppose you're all looking forward to
spending time with family and friends."

"Why yes, we are, Aldous," Scully tells him with a bright smile but
an edge in her voice. "Most people who have either are looking
forward to that." Her tone indicates that she knows that he doesn't
have the former, and doubts that anyone actually enjoys spending time
with him, so friends are unlikely.

If he picks up on that, he does a skilled job at ignoring it. "You'll
be spending time running to your children's functions, no doubt."

"I will be," Green says, also playing the ignore-the-tone game. "Chet
has a football game, and I'm finally going to be able to see him
play." She and her husband aren't much older than Mulder and Scully,
but they were college sweethearts and got family making underway
sooner, so their son is a freshman in high school.

"As a matter of fact, Dana and I are going to see our son
Christopher's class play at his preschool," Mulder tells his
irritating co-host.

"How precious."

"Considering you feel that spending time with loved ones is beneath
you I take it you'll be hanging out with Johnny, Jack, and Old
Grandad?"

It takes Reed a moment to realize that these are all references to
liquor, but when he does, he gives Mulder a look that could kill. He
then stomps off without saying anything.

Scully pokes him in the arm. "That was mean."

Mulder juts out his chin defiantly. "He deserved it."

"No one's disputing that," Green chimes in. "But think of how
miserable it must be to be him."

"Isn't that the mental equivalent of getting coal in my stocking?" 

"Come on, let's say goodbye to Wayne," Scully suggests as she loops
her arm through his.

~*~*~

Missy and Ryan are already waiting for them by the time they arrive
at the preschool, mostly because they swung by the house to pick up
William before heading there. It was Missy's theory that the two
little boys would entertain each other quietly, and while that's not
working out quite as well as she hoped, at least they're not running
around.

Mulder tries to pay attention to Christopher as he stands on the
makeshift stage, but he keeps looking Missy and Alex's kids instead.
The passing months have transformed Ryan from a cranky baby to a
good-natured toddler, and he now has more in common with his cousin
William, much to Missy's relief. But it's Addy who has gone through a
real metamorphous. This is no longer the traumatized child who spent
the first several weeks in her new home sleeping under her bed. Now
she's on stage too, having started preschool in September, shy but
willing to participate with the other kids. The change in her is
nothing short of a miracle, as far as Mulder is concerned.

Glancing at his sister-in-law, he notices that she's relaxed, not
stressed out like he'd seen her so often over the past two and a half
years. She looks at peace, and he decides that because all is mostly
well with her family. Emily still needs to get her shot every month,
but she's healthy otherwise, which rounds out the kids nicely. Even
Krycek lets his guard down sometimes these days.

Mulder refocuses just in time for Christopher's speaking part, and he
cheers for all the kids as their simple play comes to an end. As soon
as they're allowed to, Christopher and Addy come running to them,
hand in hand.

"Did you see us?" Christopher is literally jumping up and down.

"We did," Mulder tells him, before giving the boy and his cousin a
quick hug. "You both did great!"

"Thanks Uncle Mulder," Addy says shyly, and Mulder beams at Missy,
though she has no idea that it's in gratitude that she taught her two
younger kids to call him Mulder instead of Fox.

"You're welcome, Sweetheart. Is everyone ready for a late lunch?"

"Yeah! Can we get cake?" Christopher asks winsomely. Page and Sammy's
love of cake isn't shared by April or either set of twins, but
Christopher and William are both fiends for it too.

"I think that can be arranged."

"Oh boy!" Christopher exchanges triumphant looks with his brother and
cousins.

Scully's expression is slightly exasperated, but he leans down and
whispers in her ear, "Could you say no to those excited little
faces?"

"No. But let's try to work on that before any of them is old enough
to beg for a cell phone."

Laughing, Mulder agrees as they walk out to the parking lot.

~*~*~

Mid-December 2003

After muttering something about getting the wrapping done early,
Scully has banished everyone from the master bedroom, Mulder
included. The older kids seem capable of entertaining themselves, so
Mulder is hanging out with William and the babies in the girls' room.

"Let's see if we can annoy Mommy," Mulder tells the youngest of his
offspring in a cheerful voice. He's slightly irritated that she's
felt the need to drop everything to wrap presents.

The twins just stare at him, but William asks, "How?"

"Let's sing Christmas songs!"

"Okay!"

He begins teaching William the words to Rudolph, and the toddler
picks them up quickly, but his younger sisters mostly laugh and
repeat the word "deer" at irregular intervals.

William is gustily singing about Frostly the No Man when Mulder
notices April walk by the open door and head to Page's room. Two
minutes later David passes and goes to Sammy's room.

"Buddy, it's snow man," Mulder points out as William finishes his
version of the song. "You know, like how we made snowmen last
winter."

"We did?"

'sure, don't you remember?"

William shakes his head. "Nope."

"Well, you were pretty little."

"But I big now!" William declares.

"Oh yeah? How big are you?"

"Dis big!" William stretches his arms wide, and giggles when his
father takes advantage of that by swooping him up in the air.
"Again!"

"Me! Me!" Zoe demands, and Brianna gives them an uncertain look,
trying to decide if her brother is having fun.

Mulder sets William down, promising him another turn in a minute.
He's still got Zoe in his hands when he sees April leave Page's room
and Christopher run into it. He's still puzzling that out when
Brianna decides to join in on the fun, so he almost misses Jared
hurrying into Sammy's room.

"What do you think they're up to?" Mulder asks.

William puts his hands on his hips and says, "No good!"

"Who told you that?" Mulder asks, laughing.

"The TV."

"Okay."

After a short time the girls shut down, which still surprises Mulder.
How can they be at full speed one minute, and sleepily rubbing their
eyes the next? He puts the girls in their cribs, and sets William on
his hip, planning to see what the rest of the kids are up to.

"Shhh," he whispers to William as they sneak up to Page's room.

He knocks quickly and throws the door open. Page is sitting at her
desk, and she looks up at him, startled. "What's going on? I've seen
a lot of running back and forth."

Christopher smiles at him. "Page is writtin' letters to Santa for
us!"

"Sammy too," Page declares as she pokes the stack of letters on her
desk. "So I wouldn't have to do them all."

"Oh, that's really nice of you," Mulder tells her. 

"I know. We thought you and Mommy might be busy, and we can write
real good now, so we wanted to help."

"Yeah," Sammy says behind them, making Mulder turn. "Santa's watching
all of the time, right?" he asks in such a pointed way that it almost
makes his father laugh out loud. He can't tell what's motivating
Page, but Sammy is obviously hoping to score points with the big guy.

"That's what I've been told. He sees you when you're sleeping, and
when you're awake."

"But Daddy, why does he care if you're sleeping?" Page asks
logically. "We don't do anything when we're sleeping."

"When I slept over Hunter's house, he wet his bed," Sammy informs
them. "I bet Santa saw."

"Santa knows that wetting the bed is usually an accident, not
something naughty," Mulder declares, hoping that Sammy won't tease
the other boy. "So it's not going to be held against Hunter. Mommy
could tell you all about the medical stuff that makes it hard for
some kids to control their bladders when they're sleeping."

"Does she have to?" Sammy asks plaintively. Page often finds Scully's
medical expertise interesting, but Sammy finds it less so.

"I won't mention it to her, but if you bring up Hunter's bedwetting
she'll probably tell you about it."

"Yeah."

Mulder reaches out with the hand not holding onto William and plucks
the letters from Sammy's fingers. "Do you mind if I read these before
I drop them off at the post office for you?"

"You can," Page tells him, giving him the rest of the letters. "You
want to so you don't get the same stuff as Santa, right?"

"Exactly." 

Page beams at him, and Mulder wonders how much longer she'll believe
in Santa. She's a smart little kid, but she's always been fiercely
loyal to the idea of Santa Claus, so he's hoping she'll hang onto the
belief for just a little longer.

~*~*~

Later that night Mulder and Scully go over the lists. They're pretty
much what they expected. "David and Jared both asked for sleds,"
Scully remarks. "Do you think they mean the plastic kind, or the ones
with runners?"

"Plastic. I hated the ones with runners when I was a kid. They just
sank into the snow."

"There's a trick to it."

"One that Samantha and I never learned, apparently." Mulder doesn't
look bothered by this, and Scully thinks that it's nice to see him
casually mention his sister without any pain on his face. "There's
something that's not on any of the lists, and I'm glad to see that."

"What's that?" Scully asks.

"There's no 'dear Santa, please bring me a baby brother or sister for
Christmas' on anyone's lists."

"Good. Mulder, do you think that they understand that there won't be
any more babies? I tried to explain to Sammy, April, and Page but it
went over their heads."

"What? They didn't immediately understand the concept of a vasectomy?
I thought we were raising smart kids."

She sticks out her tongue at him. "Must you mock me over the futility
of trying to explain that to little kids?"

"If I don't, who will?"

~*~*~

December 19th, 2003

As they walk up the steps in front of Ellen's house, Mulder feels a
sense of dej=E0 vu. Ellen and her husband had moved to a gated
community a few years earlier, and that, coupled with the natty
holiday sweater, ties and slacks that he is wearing, serve to remind
him of their long-ago undercover case. Apparently he is alone in
this, because his comment about hoping there isn't an ubermenscher
lurking about is met by a bemused look from Scully.

They're only halfway up the stairs when the door flies open and a
well-dressed woman rushes out crying "Dana!" and immediately engulfs
her in a hug. After a fleeting look of surprise, Scully hugged her
old friend back.

After a moment, Ellen steps back and looks up at Mulder. "This must
be the infamous Fox Mulder who stole Dana away from us."

"That's me," he says, deadpan.

"Well, after giving her such a hard time about not allowing herself
the time to find someone to settle down with, we could hardly hold it
against her for doing just that." He watches his wife relax as a
friend says it. Ellen gestures towards the door. "Come on, Kathy's
already here and she can't wait to see you."

Inside, the ritual of exclamation and hugs is repeated, but he is
more interested in the husbands' reactions to Scully that her
friends'. Both Kathy and Ellen's husbands eye her appreciatively, and
one whispers overly loud to the other, "She can't be the friend with
nine kids. Look at her."

Scully clearly overhears this exchange as well because she turns a
faint pink. She weighs ten or fifteen pounds more than she had the
year after giving up William before, and he's glad of it even if
she's not. Her being that bone thin before had it only served to
worry him.

It must be Kathy's husband who has misspoke, because she's quick to
change the subject. "Ellen, where is Pete tonight?"

Ellen's expression becomes fond, as parents' often do when they're
about to speak of their offspring with pride. "His school is having a
winter formal. You should see how cute he and his date looked..."
this leads to a flurry of photo sharing that continues as other
guests arrive. Mulder joins in, pulling out his billfold to show off
their kids too, and everyone declares that April and William look
like Scully, David and Jared like him, and they argue about who the
rest resemble more closely.

After twenty minutes or so of socializing and threats by the host to
pull out a game, one of the other guests, whom Mulder thinks was
introduced as a college roommate of Ellen's husband, squints at him
and asks, "Don't I know you from somewhere?"

Ellen chuckles. "Think about the Halloween special Pete and Brian
made you watch," she says, referring to the other man's son as well
as her own.

He looks startled. "Oh. You're on that TV show!"

"I've seen that show," more than one of the guest comments.

"You ever investigate a succubus?" One of the unmarried male guests
wants to know. He expresses his disappointment when they say no. "Too
bad. Of all the supernatural things out there, that was one I was
hoping was real."

"Why? So you can finally get a date?" Kathy's husband ribs him
good-naturedly.

~*~*~

December 21st, 2003

The Sunday before Christmas, Mulder finds himself in his mother's
kitchen with April, Page, Samantha and all three of her girls. Teena
has asked them over so she can share a family holiday shortbread
cookie recipe that has been passed down to women in their family for
generations.

"I wish had been able to teach it to Samantha sooner, but she'd shown
no interest in baking as a child," Teena had told him when she'd
asked him to bring Page and April over.

His sister's lack of childhood enthusiasm for baking was not passed
along to her daughters - Ariel and Alyssa are just as enthusiastic
about the task as their cousins, and even Adrianna has forgotten to
be a sullen teenager long enough to enjoy herself too.

Teena waits until Samantha and the children are up to their elbows in
flour before asking Mulder to help her in another room. He expects to
be toting heavy boxes, but she just wants to talk to him in her
seldom used dining room.

"I'd never thought I'd live to see this," she says wistfully after
shutting the door between the dining room and kitchen. "I just wish
your father had."

"Me too, Mom." The sacrifice his father made for William and Ryan's
safety weighs the most heavily on him during the holidays.

"You don't understand. I literally didn't think I'd live to see this.
All that time you spent looking for her, I wanted to shake you and
tell you to grow up and face reality. We were never going to get her
back, I was so sure of it. And I hated your father for it too."

"Mom..."

She shakes her head. "I was really sick a couple of years ago, Fox.
And I didn't tell you about it, though I'm not exactly sure why now.
But right around the time I realized I might die, you seemed to
finally come to terms with our loss. And that gave me some peace,
because I thought perhaps if you were over losing your sister, I
could go to my grave without feeling guilty anymore. I don't know
which is more unexpected, the fact that I got better, or that you
finally found her."

Giving her a quizzical look, Mulder finally asks what he's been
wanting to for over two years. "Is it a chip? Is that what made you
better?"

Teena looks startled. "How did you know?"

He can't tell her the truth, of course. "I've met other people who
have had illnesses like yours, or cancer, cured by chips implanted in
the back of their necks."

"I didn't want to take it from him, but he insisted." She doesn't
identify who he is, but Mulder knows that she's talking about the
smoking man. "At the time I was worried what he might want in return,
but he didn't live long enough to extract anything from me. And I'm
so glad now that I took the risk, because this past year of having
your sister back in our lives..."

Mulder nods. "I know exactly what you mean."

She smiles at him, and he startled by how serene she looks when she
does. There is no doubt in his mind that his mother is being
completely truthful when she tells him that she cherishes the time
she's had with Samantha. The burden has definitely been lifted from
her, and it makes her look younger. "So, how many besides us are you
expecting for Christmas this year?"

"It'll be a smaller crew than last year," Mulder informs her. He
doesn't explain why it's inadvisable for Tara to travel, but he does
tell her, "Dana's older brother Bill and his wife and son won't be
able to join us this year. And our friends John and Monica will be
visiting with John's brother's family. He promised them that they
would visit before their baby is born, and the holidays seemed like
the most convenient time for that. So we plan to get together with
them on Christmas Eve instead."

"It's nice that you're so close to them despite no longer working
with them."

"It is. I think it's because of anyone who knows what our lives were
like, it's them. But I'm wandering off topic now. Dana's mother, and
her sister Missy's family will be there Christmas day. I think that
it's possible that her brother Charlie and his wife and son might be
able to make it too, though that depends on how cooperative the
weather is with them getting a flight there."

"It was nice last year, but I think it will be even better this
year."

"You do?"

"You have to admit, Fox, that things were a little bit awkward
because we were just getting to know Samantha again. Now we know her
and her family."

"That's true." Mulder looks around. "Do you have something heavy for
me to carry? I'm sure that they'll want to know what you had me doing
out here."

She looks around, and her eyes settle on a rocking chair. "How about
you bring that chair into the living room for me? I've been meaning
to move it for quite a while, but I've never gotten around to it."

"Sure, Mom."

~*~*~

December 22nd, 2003

"I'm taller, right Daddy?" Jared asks out of the blue.

Mulder looks up from tying William's shoe. He's about to bring the
boys to the park, where they can play on the snow free equipment.
It's easier than keeping the backyard toys clear of snow all winter.
"Taller than who?"

"David."

"Um, no. You're both the same height."

"Oh." He looks disappointed. "Mommy said that identical twins could
be different heights."

"Well, they could be, if one wasn't as healthy as the other, for
example. The last time I measured you, you were the same height,
though."

Jared thinks about this. "Can I spike my hair?"

Mulder almost asks him where that idea came from when it suddenly
dawns on him that it's not a non sequitur: Jared wants to be more of
an individual. 'sure, Kiddo. I'll ask Mom what we should get you so
you can do that. No mohawks, though, okay?"

"Thank you!"

He's about to bring the kids out to the car when Scully stops him.
"We got a Christmas card from Rachel and Sean."

"Did we? Any kids yet?"

Scully smirks at him. "That's what the very first line was about. She
and Sean are thinking about starting a family next year."

"They're doing good, though?"

"It seems like it. And Mulder, you'll never believe it -- they ran
into the Ks!"

"Wow, I guess that it's a smaller island than it seemed when we saw
the Ks during our vacation. You know this means that they can trade
war stories about looking after our kids."

"Aww, it couldn't have been so bad, or she'd tell me that they were
happily childfree."

"I was kidding. Our kids are great. I'm surprised they haven't had
two or three of their own by now."

"Guess they're taking things at their own pace." Scully hugs him
before whispering, "I hope Michelle fines a nice guy to settle down
with too, but not until the kids are a little older."

"Maybe we should give her a raise next year," Mulder suggests, and
she rolls her eyes.

~*~*~

Mulder-Scully Home
December 24th, 2003

"I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas," Michelle tells them as
she finishes hugging the kids goodbye.

"You too!" most of them reply. Scully carefully reminded them that
Michelle would be back in a few days, so there were no upset feelings
as they saw her off.

Mulder picks up one of her bags and brings it out to her car. After
putting it in the car he says, "Drive careful, Michelle."

"Always," the nanny tells him with a smile. "I'll see you in five
days."

"Tell your folks that Dana and I told them to spoil you. You deserve
it."

"I will. They're love that. Bye!"

Michelle's car is still within sight when Doggett pulls up. He pops
the trunk and sends his sons to get the presents.

Noticing that both boys look insanely cheerful as they go about their
task, he leans over to ask Doggett, "What's with them?"

"Why don't you ask them?" He looks cheerful too.

"Let me help you with that," Mulder tells them as he meets them at
the rear of their father's car. "You both look like you're in good
moods. Any particular reason why?"

Luke and Gibson exchange a look. "No, you tell him," Gibson says, and
Mulder has the disquieting sense that Gibson is responding to
something his brother didn't say. At least not out loud.

"Okay. We got a special gift today," Luke starts to explain, but
Mulder interrupts him with a guess.

"Driving lessons?"

"No, better," Gibson says firmly.

"Better?" There's only one thing he can think of that would have
struck him as better when he was seventeen, but he's not about to
guess that when their impressionable little sister is standing six
feet away. "What's better than that?"

Luke practically puffs up with pride. "We got our early acceptance
letters to college!"

"Yeah, we're both hoping to design computer games once we graduate,"
Gibson adds.

"We wanted to request being roommates, but Dad and Monica told us not
to. That's okay, though. After sharing a room for a couple of years,
maybe it's time for someone else to deal with his dirty socks." Luke
hooks a thumb in his brother's direction.

"My socks?!" Gibson yelps.

"Congratulations. Now let's get this inside before we freeze."

Luke nods, but doesn't move. "We are going to get a driving lesson,
though. Dad said it would be our reward for keeping the kids
entertained tonight. Was that Michelle leaving? I was hoping she'd be
here."

"Yeah, cause you think she's hot."

"I- I do not!" Luke sputters.

"She's not bad for someone who is in her late twenties," Gibson tells
him. "So don't feel bad. You'd never have a shot, anyway, so what
does it matter?"

"Who said I want a shot," Luke mutters and rushes into the house
ahead of them.

There's yet another delay for Gibson and Mulder as they try to get
into the house -- Hannah and April are chatting just inside the door.
Hannah looks thrilled as she tells her young friend, "You were right!
The goblins love junk food and they haven't ruined nothing else."

"Squirt, move," Gibson says, surprising everyone. "We're half frozen
here!"

"Oops." April pulls Hannah out of the way.

~*~*~

"So," Mulder says as he settles on the couch after setting the kids
up with a movie in the playroom, "are you ready for both boys to be
off at college in less than a year?"

"God no," Reyes says, squeezing Doggett's hand. "We'll have to adjust
our thinking, though, since they obviously aren't going to be able to
commute."

"Maybe they'll come home a lot. You know, to see their little
sisters." Doggett places his hand on Reyes' belly as he says it.

Scully looks delighted. "You found out that it's a girl?"

"Yep. We can't wait to meet her."

"Don't say that, John," Scully scolds him. "You don't want her to try
and join us before she's ready."

"Not like David and Jared," Mulder adds. "Though their being early
wasn't their fault at all."

"Okay, I'll amend that to being eager to have her with us, but
willin' to wait until she's fully baked."

"Besides, if the baby comes early, that'll mean having Leyla Harrison
in the X-Files with you earlier."

Doggett gives a good-natured groan. "Don't remind me. But I have to
tell you, that the whole going after a supernatural kidnapper thing
aside, it wasn't so bad working with her. If things go okay, I might
ask her to join the office permanently."

Mulder turns to his wife. "Where did you leave the ear thermometer
for the twins? I'm afraid that John has a dangerous fever. He's
speaking gibberish."

"Ha ha."

~*~*~

"Here, Mulder." Scully puts Zoe into his arms. Though the kids did a
good job, at least as far as Mulder or Scully heard, when they
borrowed the babies, Scully insisted that they had their hands full
enough without adding the younger twins to the mix in the playroom.
"Someone needs to be changed."

"And yet you shot my idea of getting diapers with 'well, it's not
going to change itself' printed on them," he complains as he hefts up
the baby.

"Don't even go there. We don't want little girls who think it's
appropriate to have words emblazoned across their bottoms."

"Did you check Brianna?" he asks, and she quickly does. 

In the end he's got both babies in his arms, and he talks nonsense to
them as they head up to their room. It doesn't take him long to
change them both, because after years of practice he and Scully are
champion diaper changers. They're back downstairs in five minutes
flat.

As soon as he's put the girls down on the rug, he notices that it's
strangely quiet. "What?"

"I went to check on the snacks in the oven, and Mulder, there's a
strange woman in our kitchen," Scully tells him, and he's surprised
by how calm she seems. "She asked to speak to you."

A sinking feeling forms in the pit of his stomach, and he isn't
surprised to see Elsbeth standing by the kitchen table, spearing a
pig in a blanket with a fancy toothpick. She's wearing the same scarf
as the day he met her. In fact, nothing about her has seemed to have
changed at all. ::Well, that was 2003 too,:: he finds himself
thinking in confusion.

"Elsbeth?" he says, his voice near a whisper.

"Don't look so surprised! Surely you knew we'd be seeing each other
again today," the short blonde admonishes him, waving her snack.

"No..." He really hasn't given much thought to the idea of what would
happen when the date rolled around again. His mind has always shied
away from considering the possibilities.

"There might have been something that I forgot to mention when I gave
you the chance to put things right." Elsbeth gives him an apologetic
smile.

"What?" he asks, deeply afraid that she's going to tell him that he's
failed somehow, and tomorrow morning will find him as alone as the
first December 24th, 2003 should have.

"In order for this reality to stick, Dana and John need to know that
it's not the natural order of things. If they like this reality
better, than everything stays the same. If they don't..." she trails
off meaningfully.

He swallows hard. "Then we go back to the way things were?"

"Exactly!" Elsbeth beams at him, apparently deciding that he's clever
for figure it out so quickly. "Are Dana and John in the other room?"

"Yes, but I don't think they'll believe you-"

"Oh, don't worry about that. They'll believe me. Both of them have
occasionally gotten the idea that there's something not quite right.
That will be enough to sway them. Not to mention my appearance simply
makes people predisposed to believe me, anyway."

"What are you?" Mulder asks, though he knows that she's right. He'd
almost instantly believed in her himself. "Are you an angel?"

"That's one word for it," Elsbeth agrees.

~*~*~

Everyone looks up when Mulder and Elsbeth enter the living room.

"Who are you?" Reyes asks in a semi-friendly tone. "A friend of Dana
and Mulder's?"

"I've never seen her before, but she knows Mulder."

"That's right," Elsbeth tells them. "I've known Mulder for a long
time, haven't I?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"Let's get down to business. I'm here to tell you something very
important."

"What's that?" Scully asks warily.

"The sense of deja vu that you and John have suffered off and on over
the past eleven years means something."

"What?" Doggett echoes Scully's question.

"It's your connection to the other timeline."

"What other timeline?"

"The one that Mulder escaped from to keep terrible things from
happening to people he loves." Elsbeth goes to perch on the arm of
the sofa, making Doggett move closer to his lover. "Just today, or a
version of today, that is, he went back in time to nineteen
ninety-two to try and keep those bad things from happening. He
accomplished that and has lived over the years since then again."

Mulder expects all three of them to dismiss Elsbeth as crazy, but
Reyes is the only one who seems to be skeptical. On both his wife and
Doggett's faces, he can see sort of horrified and bewildered
acceptance, as if they were both just waiting for someone to tell
them something just like this. ::Just how bad was the deja vu she's
talking about?:: he wonders.

"What happened before?" Doggett demands to know. "What was so awful
that Mulder agreed to go back and live eleven years of his life over
again?"

"You died," Elsbeth says softly. "You and Dana both died."

Scully is wide-eyed. "How?"

"That's a long story, but I'll tell it if you want me to," Elsbeth
offers.

"Of course!"

"All right. I'll tell you what happened to John first. It all begins
in August of 1993. A little boy named Luke Doggett is kidnapped, and
later found murdered." Elsbeth gives Doggett a pointed look, and it's
clear that he's horrified. "While looking for the boy, John and
Monica meet, but then drift out of contact for a number of years. His
marriage is soon over, and he and his wife never have a daughter."

"You're saying the last time I lost both of my kids by Barbara?"
Doggett asks, aghast.

"I guess it would be splitting hairs to say that Hannah didn't exist
then to be lost, so yes. You stayed a police officer for a number of
years before eventually becoming an FBI agent. When agent Mulder was
abducted in 2000 you transferred to DC and headed a task force to
find him. You stayed on after he was recovered, as did agent Reyes,
whom you called in to help agent Scully in May of 2001. The following
year you solved your son's case, and had a brief relationship with
Monica before you were killed by a semi driver who smashed into your
car."

"When did I die?" Doggett asks. "In this other reality, I mean."

"Last week," Elsbeth announces. 

Doggett looks a little green, and Mulder wishes there was something
he could do to make him feel better. His first impulse is to offer
him pigs in a blanket, but decides that it's not the best of ideas.

Elsbeth turns to Mulder's wife. "Dana. Yours is a longer story, but
I'll give you the salient points. In your other life, you only had
two children. A sickly little girl named Emily who died shortly after
her third birthday, and a son named William."

The look on Scully's face is of complete shock, but this doesn't slow
Elsbeth down. "You began working with Mulder in 1992. In August of
1994, you were abducted. Three months later you were found, comatose.
What you didn't know then was that all of your ova had been harvested
as part of an experiment, leaving you unable to have children. In
1997 you were diagnosed with cancer. It was a long battle, but you
were able to recover when a chip was implanted in your neck. Not long
after that you discovered that you were barren. The week before
Christmas that year you also found out that a three-year-old girl
named Emily was your biological child, created from your stolen ova.
She died just after New Years."

Scully looks bewildered. "Emily was mine? What about the rest of our
kids?"

"There were no kids, plural. None but William," Elsbeth says gently.
"The rest were never born because you couldn't have them. You only
had William because Mulder was able to recover a small amount of your
stolen ova."

"We only had William?" Scully is obviously still dazed.

"Yes. But not for long. William wasn't the little boy you know now,
at least not exactly, but special because of the DNA you gave him -
yours was altered during your abduction. Everyone knew he was
special, and he was nearly taken from you at birth by a group of
alien abductees who were controlled by aliens. Another attempt to
take him from you happened when he was nine months old. You recovered
him, but it was the breaking point for you. Mulder had gone into
hiding, to protect you both, and there was no way for you to reach
him. A final incident involving Mulder's half-brother prompted you to
give the boy up."

"How could I give away my only child?" Scully demands to know.

"You thought it would keep him safe," Elsbeth says soothingly. "It
was your belief that giving him up was in his best interest,
considering you had no idea if you would ever see Mulder again. You
did, however, reunited in May of 2002. Months later you began a long
drawn out court battle to get your son back. A few days ago you
learned that you wouldn't be given custody of him. So you went to a
bridge..."

"And?"

"And...you didn't exactly jump, but when you started to lose your
balance, you did nothing to save yourself, either. Your body washed
ashore the following day. Yesterday."

Doggett and Scully look at each other, horror-stricken.

"On December 24th of that year, I met Mulder. He'd just lost his
beloved and a good friend, mere days apart. I offered him the
opportunity to go back and try to fix the things that would lead up
to your deaths. And he has."

"What happens now?" Doggett wants to know.

"If you both agree, this is your life to keep, now with the knowledge
that it wasn't the one you originally led. If either or both of you
disagrees, the old timeline will snap back into place. Mulder and
Monica will carry on with their lives without you, and the two of you
will rest until judgment day."

"What about me?" Reyes asks, a protective hand on her belly. "From
what you've said, it seems like I get a pretty raw deal in the other
reality. John's dead, two of my step-kids either are dead or don't
exist, and neither does my baby."

"I'm sorry dear, but officially only they have a say about what
happens next. You and Mulder will have to live with their decision."
Elsbeth gives her a sympathetic smile. "But maybe if we discuss the
other things that Mister Mulder has done with his second chance,
it'll help sway them to the choice you'd obviously prefer."

"Oh. Okay, I guess." 

Elsbeth swings her head in Mulder's direction. "You've been a very
busy boy since you went back, haven't you?"

"I'm sorry?" Mulder says, wondering if an apology is what she wanted
to hear.

She ignores him, and turns back to the others. "Dana, John, Mulder
was supposed to come back and save you both, but you know him. What
does he do best?"

"Stick his nose into things," Scully says promptly.

"Hey!"

"In that other when, Mulder's parents are both gone now, and his
father died shortly before Mulder ended up in New Mexico rather than
just recently."

"But that was years ago!" Scully protests. "Sammy wasn't even born
yet."

"I know. His father wasn't the only one to die then..." Elsbeth looks
up at Scully. "Your sister was shot in your apartment, when men
looking for you after you came into possession of a tape they wanted
mistook her for you. She died from her injuries a few days later."

"Oh my God!" Scully's hand goes to her mouth. "You said that Emily
died too. So-"

"Emily died, Addy and Ryan were never born, and Alex died the night
that William was born."

"And my mom died of a disease that she had treated this time," Mulder
adds quietly.

"Then there's the matter of his sister-"

"Jesus!" Doggett exclaims, startling them all. "Her too? We all
died?"

Elsbeth shook her head. "Samantha didn't die in that other reality,
but-"

Mulder offers them a pained smile. "But I never found her. Never. I
believed the lie I was feed about her dying as a teenager, and
stopped looking for her. I never knew that she was alive with a
family of her own. And there never was a TV show for Samantha to see
me on, so she believed I was dead too, just as she'd been told as a
child."

"Oh, Mulder," Scully hugs him. "You've done so much for people."

He gently pushes her away. "Don't start proceedings to saint me just
yet. I was rather ruthless when it came to achieving my objectives of
keeping you and Doggett safe."

"Ruthless how?" Doggett asks. He's moved closer to Reyes.

"Well...remember how I accidentally broke Luke's leg?"

"Yeah, of course."

"It wasn't an accident."

"What do you mean it wasn't an accident?" Doggett growls.

Mulder gives him a helpless look. "Short of kidnapping Luke myself, I
couldn't think of a way to keep him off of that damn bike when his
kidnapper was going to see him."

"Who was a child molester," Elsbeth helpfully adds. "Don't forget
that detail."

"Right. It seemed kinder to break a limb and keep him off a child
molester's radar than to let things happen the same way twice."

Doggett still looks mildly affronted. "You didn't think you could
tell me and work something else out?"

Before Mulder can reply, Elsbeth stares at him. "As if you would have
believed him. If someone came to you and told you how you needed to
keep your kid off his bike so he wasn't molested and then murdered,
your first instinct would be to think he was talking about himself as
a potential suspect, and your second would have been to try to have
him committed once you realized he meant it as a warning rather than
a threat."

"She's got you pegged, John," Reyes tells him.

"Yeah, you're right. I guess maybe that was the best course of action
you could have taken."

Reyes squeezes his right hand. "At least his plan worked."

"That's not so bad, Mulder," his wife says bravely.

His smile is sickly. "That's not all, and maybe not the worst of it.
What I did to you..."

"Tell me."

"I ruined the condoms we used the first few times we made love," he
says guiltily. "My theory was that Duane Barry wouldn't give you to
his abductors if you were pregnant, and..."

Scully flushes red, which isn't what Mulder expects. "Um..."

"What?" 

"Do you recall what I said when I told you that I was pregnant?" she
asks, practically squirming in her seat.

"You said something about understanding if I wasn't ready to be a
father." He looks puzzled. "What does that have to do with anything?"

If anything, she turns a deeper shade of red. "The first time we made
love, I put the condom on you."

"God, I didn't need to know that," Doggett mutters, and Reyes elbows
him to get him to be quiet.

"So?"

"So I knew that there was something wrong with the condom when I
unwrapped it. There was a rough part inside the wrapper that caught
against my finger, like someone had pushed something through it."

"It was a sewing needle," Mulder admits, still confused.

Scully looks exasperated. "Mulder, I didn't know you'd ruined them
yourself, but I did know there was something wrong with the condom. I
let us use it anyway," she says carefully. "And all the rest that had
the same issue."

"Wait, are you saying you wanted to get pregnant?" he asks in
disbelief.

"Wanted to might be putting it a bit strongly, but I didn't mind the
possibility. No, maybe wanted is the right word." She's still
blushing deeply. "I wanted a family. And you. 'Accidentally' getting
pregnant seemed like a means to that end."

"So what you're saying is that we manipulated each other."

"Basically."

"That's so romantic," Reyes sighs.

"What the hell?" Doggett looks at her like she's crazy.

"You're a guy, you wouldn't understand."

He rolls his eyes.

"So," Scully says abruptly, causing them to all focus again. "Is that
the end of your transgressions?"

Mulder shakes his head. "I...I screwed Krycek over bigtime."

"How?"

"I gave his address to Duane Barry, which led to him being adducted
instead of you. And him getting cancer instead of you."

"Oh boy."

"But on the other hand, if it wasn't for me doing everything I did,
he'd be single and childless. And dead. I think that what he gained
evens out things in the end."

Elsbeth laughs, surprising them. "Aren't you glad that you only
needed to confess to John and Dana, and not everyone else you
impacted?"

"Uh, yeah."

"While I think he might forgive you, you might be better off never
telling him," Scully suggests.

"Right."

"So, what do you say?" Elsbeth gives Scully and Doggett an interested
look. "Is this the life you'd keep, or do you want things to be
undone."

"Gee, I don't know," Doggett drawls. "I might have to think about
whether or not I'd rather be dead."

"John!"

"We want to live this life," Scully tells her. "Please."

Elsbeth glances at Doggett. "That was sarcasm, right?"

"Right," he says quickly. "Of course this is the life we want to
live."

She hops off the arm of the couch. "Okay."

"Okay? That's it?" Mulder asks, worried.

"That's it," she says firmly. "As soon as they said it, their fates
were carved in stone. No going back, no more do overs. For better or
worse, this reality is yours to do with what you will."

"Wow."

They all look relieved, at least until she says, "Before I go, there
is one more thing."

"What?" Mulder practically screams.

"These pigs in a blanket are really good. Would it be rude if I asked
to take a couple with me?"

"Take them. You can have them all."

"That's not necessary, but I appreciate the offer." She smiles at
Mulder as she plucks three of them off the tray. "Remember, there are
no more second chances. Take care of them."

"I will!" he promises fervently.

To his surprise, she pats him on the cheek. "I know. You are the nice
boy I thought you were." And with that, she walks out the front door.

Doggett rushes to the window and look out. "Where did she go?"

The front stoop is empty.

"What was she?" Reyes asks, going to stand next to Doggett. He
automatically winds an arm around what remains of her waist.

"Our second chance," Mulder whispers. No one corrects him.

~*~*~

"I wanted to tell you," Mulder admits as he and Scully get undressed
that night. "There were so many times I wanted to tell you how things
would turn out, but I couldn't. And after a while, things twisted so
far from what they'd been like the first time, that I often had no
idea what was going to happen next, either."

"Was it tedious?" Scully asks as she pulls up the bottoms to the red
silk pajamas Mulder gave her an hour earlier. Everyone got to open
new pajamas and a toy before bed, and unlike the kids', their toys
were safely stored in a special box in the closet away from the eyes
of impressionable children.

"Was what tedious?"

"Living the past eleven years all over again."

His eyes widen in surprise. "Of course not! My life has been so much
better, so much fuller, this time that it was a joy to relieve most
of it. I could have done without a second round as the aliens'
pincushion, but other than that it's been almost perfect." ::except
for losing Angel and losing my father again, that is:: he adds
silently. ::I guess that there always has to be some sorrow for
everyone.::

"Good." She kisses the underside of his jaw. "And thank you."

"No, thank you," he corrects her. "All the things that made this life
a joy came from you."

"I think you're better versed in biology than that, Mulder."

"I didn't just mean the kids, but they're a big part of that, of
course. This life, this love we share..." he trails off, and knows that
it's okay that he can't put the rest of the thought into words. She
understands, because she's her.

"Mulder, let's go to bed," she suggests, and begins to strip off the
silk pajamas they've just put on. In the end, it's turns out that the
kids aren't the only ones eager to play with their new toys before
bed.

~*~*~

When Mulder wakes up hours later, it's not quite light out. For half
a second his heart pounds, and he worries that he'll look over to
Scully's side of the bed, and find it empty, but then she shifts on
the bed and bumps into him.

The door to their bedroom inches open, and he sees a mess of blond
hair and a happily expectant face looking in at him. "Are you awake?
Page said it's too early, but she and me is already awake-"

Mulder holds open his arms, and Christopher runs into them. "Merry
Christmas, Christopher."

"You too, Daddy!" his son says too loudly, and nearly wakes Scully. 

Mulder carries him out into the hallway, and looking down over the
banister he can see Page has already plugged in the tree. The tiny
lights twinkle merrily, and paint her face. He can almost feel her
itching to open her stocking.

"I hope Santa brought me something cool," Christopher says from his
arms. "It's too bad he don't bring presents to grown ups, or you
could get what you really want too."

Doors open up along the hallway, and a fussing coming from the
nursery indicates that the babies are now awake too. He watches as
Scully wanders in to change the girls, and Sammy carries William down
the stairs with April, David, and Jared hot on his heels.

Mulder hugs Christopher tightly. "I've already gotten everything I
wanted, I really have."

                   The End


~*~*~
Authors' Endnotes:

Neoxphile: 
The idea for this story came from being annoyed with the episode
"William" and a statement shortly after the series finale when the
writers said something to the effect of "Mulder and Scully can't fend
off an alien invasion with a baby in tow." (Not, of course, that the
movie franchise ultimately when in a direction where this would have
actually posed a plot problem!) I personally was filled with
indignation about this casual dismissal because the Mulder and Scully
I loved could *so* fend off an invasion with a baby strapped to their
backs. They just could...and probably always could have, actually.
That realization made me wonder: what would the show been like if
they *always* had a baby to look after? Nine seasons, nine kids...

Thus the embryo of a plot formed, and I arrived at the plan to write
a fic, hopefully with some help, where they had lots of kids so
they'd be saddled with that trying-to-be-feds-with-a-family thing
through the entire series. So after writing an outline that mostly
included how we'd put kids into the timeline of the show, I brought
the idea to one of my favorite fic writers, Felinefemme. Fortunately
she liked the idea and we got to writing. And writing and writing
and... In our defense, I have to confess that we thought it was going
to be a short story at the very beginning. Within a week or two we
knew it wouldn't be, but no, we had no idea that it would take six
whole years to complete this project. Nor did we know that it would
so often stray from its original conception, which was to be a parody
(self-parody in my case) of the family fic genre. Things got more
serious at times than we anticipated, but that's what happens when
you try to follow the changes we made through to their mostly logical
conclusions.

I'd like to offer a heartfelt thank you both to readers who spent six
years following along with the strange adventures of Mulder, Scully,
and all the little Mulderlings, and also to people who were undaunted
by its length and dove in later. We wouldn't have finished without
readers prodding us on.

Oh, and one last thing: if the fact that neither of us has kids shows
worse than we think, please forgive us =)

NeoX

Felinefemme:
Yes, ladies and gents, it's all NeoX's fault:D  Kidding,
I was a willing accomplice, and I always did like a good joke.  The
fact that we kept it up as long as we did is more a testament to her
insane creativity & attention to detail than anything I've done - and
perhaps it helped that we're not only on opposite ends of this great
country of ours, but also an ocean between us, so she couldn't easily
strangle me when my muse went comatose for weeks on endXD 

But seriously, I do like the idea of second & third chances in life
and love, not just for the X-Files crew, but for everyone, and this
epic fanfic of ours was out to do just that!  Of course, if I'd known
how truly epic it would become... you know what?  I think some
things, like helping NeoX put this fic together, is something I
wouldn't regret, no matter how many do-overs I get:D  Besides, how
often do you get to re-do the X-Files with a mastermind who uses her
powers for good rather than evil?  So, thanks, Neoxphile!

And thanks to all of you readers!  It's so nice to see that our folie a
deux has turned into a folie a pleusieurs!  It's like reliving the X-Files
again, only better, heh heh heh!  Kidding, kidding, I looooove you,
Chris Carter and all you XF writers, oh yes, I do, you guys gave us
so much to work with...! XD  <runs>

Felinefemme