From: Lisa Stiles Date: Sat, 11 Sep 2010 01:26:03 -0700 (PDT) Subject: story submission Source: direct TITLE: What's Been Going On... AUTHOR: Bugmouthga E-MAIL: bugmouthga@yahoo.com DISTRIBUTION: Archive Freely- please let me know RATING: R CATEGORIES: Story KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully romance, alternate universe SPOILERS: Post-series, "The Truth" SUMMARY: Mulder ruminates over what's been going on since he and Scully fled from the FBI in 2002. Disclaimer: X-Files characters belong to FOX Corporation and 1013. Author's Notes: This was written before "The X-Files: I Want to Believe" was released, so it obviously veers from the canon we came to learn in 2008. I wouldn't have minded some of this stuff happening though. Please email me and tell me your thoughts on the matter. What's Been Going On... I remember the first time I was back- well, if you can call being in the clutches of military custody as "being back", that is- and I got to see her. Scully; my Scully. God, she was so beautiful. She looked older, but not in a bad way. She just had this... this... womanly maturity to her that I'd never really noticed before. Not that she wasn't womanly or mature in my eyes before hand, it's just, motherhood or our separation or... something had changed her. I could see the sadness in her eyes, the hopefulness, the fear, the uncertainty and the love. This was the most fragile I had ever seen my Scully, but also the most beautiful. It just shamed me- as well as delighted me in a perverse sort of way, I admit now- that all of her jumble of emotions, so easily swimming at the surface of her soul and shining through her luminescent blue eyes, were all resting upon me- on my actions, my replies, my responses. I saw now how her entire life was all about me. It both upset and touched me to the core. I would never have wished myself or my monumental problems on anyone else, let alone the most wonderful human being on- or off- the planet. At the same time, I couldn't believe that someone as wonderful as she would even consider me in her life, much less as taking it over her own. During our separation, I had come to consider the existence of a higher power. As clich? as it sounded, I couldn't imagine anything but God creating anyone as perfect as Dana Katherine Scully. In case I didn't mention it, she was so beautiful... My next memory of that first meeting back was not so wondrous. It was horrible. I was being watched so closely by the soldiers that I had to pretend that I was still crazy... all right, make that crazier... and I had to make both Scully and Skinner think the same. Surprisingly, it was an easier task than I thought it would be. I know that probably says a lot about my character, but that's not really the point of this recollection, now is it? I think old Wally has always thought of me as sticking one toe in off the deep end anyway. Convincing him wouldn't be all that hard. But Scully? Now that was a problem. She knew me like no one else. She had seen into my very soul. And even though she herself had had reason to doubt my sanity through the years, I still realized that it would be extremely difficult making her think that I had totally gone off my rocker, so to speak. But I remembered something that helped me through that horrible moment. I knew how to convince her that I was... not quite right by any means. I called her by her given name. I called her Dana. Now, let's get one thing straight. Neither of us are opposed to me calling her by her first name. Actually, it's a very pretty name, and, as far as first names go, I think it fits her well. It's not too long (and neither is she, heh, heh- short joke!), and since we had moved our relationship into more... ahem, intimate quarters, I frequently did call her Dana. The only thing is, and I know she would realize this, I never usually called her by her first name except for when we were totally and completely alone. Now, Walter and some jerk-faced soldier were in there watching us, gaping at us, waiting for my reaction to her mere presence- although with completely different intentions in mind- and all I wanted to do was yank that precious woman into my tight, never-ending embrace and thrust my tongue down her throat for say, oh, the next two-hundred years, give or take a century. But, no, I couldn't do that. Not yet, anyway. So, while I gratefully accepted her tight, loving embrace and enjoyed the little kiss she bestowed upon the side of my face- that's my Scully, always a bit shy about making out in public- I couldn't do what I really wanted to do. I had to settle for holding her, and calling her "Dana". The look she gave me was a subtle one, even for me to discern. I think she might have believed, for a moment, that I'd forgotten anyone else was there, in my joy to see her beautiful, shining face. And in any other circumstance, I certainly would have been, but not with the asshole watching me like a hawk. I'm not sure why the guard had to be there at all, but there he was. Perhaps the military was afraid I might slip them some secret information, or maybe they were just afraid, realizing that my time was at hand- that I might slip Scully something else and fornicate with her right there on the cold, hard floor. (Come on now, even I have more couth than that! Okay, maybe I would have done that, but only if Skinner hadn't have been there with us.) Needless to say, my casual greeting with her first name, lukewarm hug and abruptness certainly made Scully see that something was up. Damn, that was one of the most difficult moments of my life. Can you imagine pretending that seeing the love of your life, your soul mate, touch stone, your one in five billion- well, you get the point- after so much time spent apart is just a ho- hum sort of occurrence. All I can say is that my performance was Oscar worthy! Anthony Hopkins had nothing on me! As a matter of fact, the next time I got to see my Scully- again with Skinner there; argh!- I pretended for a moment to be Mr. Hopkins' most famous role and hammed it up playing Hannibal Lector to Scully's unwitting Clarice Starling. That's when she really got scared. That look on her innocent face was absolutely, without a doubt, hilarious, and therefore priceless. I remember her glancing back at Skinner once, sharing an "oh, shit, he's really lost it this time!" look. And since they both looked so serious and scared out of their minds, and especially since this time the military jerk wads weren't right in the room breathing down our necks, I did what any self respecting guy who was on the run and being held accountable for committing a murder I knew to be erroneous would do- I chuckled. I might have laughed my ass off, but I restrained myself, lest poor Scully thought I really had flown over the cuckoo's nest. This little jest at her own expense, let both Scully and Skinner know that, not only was I okay- well, as okay as is accustomed to someone like me, anyway- but that I had not lost my terrific sense of humor to boot. (Scully had another term for my sense of humor- I believe she described it once as warped- but I digress.) Scully made some remark about my Hannibal the Cannibal game not being funny. I corrected her on that, then went in for the kill. Before she knew what hit her, I had that wonderful, gorgeous woman in my arms, and my lips had captured hers. Oh, God, how satisfying that felt! It's pretty much indescribable. Ah, her small, warm body pressed to mine. That kiss lasted so long and yet, still not long enough. I remember scraping her teeth with my tongue and she opening up a little wider to allow me in. During our long absence from one another, that insecure part of me always wondered whether Scully would actually be able to wait for me, especially since neither of us knew when- or if, and I shudder at that thought- I would get to come back to her. There was even this tiny, little, miniscule, itty-bitty part of me that wished she would have moved on, forgotten about me and went on with her life. She could have met someone and settled down with him and William. She deserved a great life, and I am the first to admit- even before Bill Scully, Jr. at that- her life has been one topsy turvey roller coaster ride from hell since she had been assigned to work with me on the X-Files. Becoming my "true" partner, best friend and finally, my lover, had done nothing but add to the curves, bumps and loops of that ride. It might never have been boring, but it could just as easily made her want to puke and ask to get off, leaving Mulderland behind forever. But, all bad amusement park analogies aside, I realize that I am a selfish guy and in spite of all the trouble and heartbreak I've caused her- albeit most of it was inadvertently- I know I still need her and want her to be with me, in my life and to remain my own personal guardian angel. I suppose that's a horrible way to treat the person you love most in the world, but as I've already stated, I'm a selfish guy. Besides, in my own defense, I have tried to deter the lovely, but stubborn Miss Scully away from me and my quest of misery, but she simply refuses to leave me. At times in the past it had troubled me, but since I came back, through any half-hearted attempts to push her away, upon seeing her unwillingness to comply, I can only say, atta girl! So, I'm sure I'm understating myself when I say that I was so thrilled to see my Scully! I was even happy to see the Skinman again, too! I was about to pull another joke and try to give him a smooch on his big, old bald head, but he had to rain on my parade and bring me back to reality, by reminding me of the impending danger I was in. I tried to shrug it off, but I refused to let go of Scully's hand. I kept it held tightly in mine for the remainder of her stay in my cell. I would bring it up to my mouth from time to time to give it a kiss. I loved the feel of her soft skin on my lips. Not long after my "real" reunion with Scully- and the Skinman- who should join in on the fun but the new dynamic duo of the X-Files, Agents Doggett and Reyes. Hmm, Agent Doggett... Well, I'll be the first to admit that upon meeting him, I did not trust him and I did not like him. He looked like a smug son of a bitch, not to mention he had these creepy, blue eyes. They weren't a soft and pretty blue like Scully's, but ice cold, like... like... well, like that Terminator guy from that movie- you know, the second one. But Scully trusted him. That was tough to take. I had arisen from the dead, as it were, and there was my beautiful partner, Scully, just as I'd left her; only not. She didn't look the same- being eight months pregnant will just change a girl, I guess. And she had a new partner. I felt so out of place at that time. I missed the X-Files so much. Not just the work, but everything! I missed the excitement and uncertainty. I missed being "allowed" to go looking for the truth on a regular basis, without too much FBI interference. Hell, I even missed the dark and musty basement office. Of course, what I missed most about it all was working with Scully. She had been my partner for over seven years. So I die, but come back to life, and then suddenly I'm not good enough any more? But it was even more hurtful on the personal side of it. Dana Katherine Scully was heavy with child, with a bun in the oven, you know, preggers. Before I had been abducted, before Scully and I had begun doing the mattress mambo on a semi-regular basis, she and I had tried to have a baby together. The only possible hope in doing this relied on invitro fertilization. It didn't work. Not long after, we started a new, fun, more physical chapter in our relationship. Neither one of us bothered with birth control. Why should we? We were in a monogamous relationship together and before that we had both lived the lives of monks and nuns for a record number of years. (Okay, there was that one horrible night with the vampire lady, but it was less about sex and more about feeling lonely for Scully and a having a big case of bad judgment, although I had enough sense at least to use protection with her.) When I left Scully months later on that fateful journey back to Oregon with Skinner, she had been under the weather, but she looked thin and decidedly unpregnant. How was I to know that little William had already moved into a one-bedroom womb with a view just as I was getting abducted? Anyway, upon my return, I was moody and surly and having a bad time getting reacquainted with my life- death will do that to you, I suppose- and seeing this smarmy punk, Agent Dog-gett wandering around and pushing in on my turf- mainly the X-Files- and hovering over my woman- namely Scully- I was understandably not too keen on becoming good buddies. It was Scully that set me straight on everything though. Once I got done with my brooding and nasty comments and awkwardness, she let me know that Agent Doggett was a decent guy and that he had helped her out on the X-Files. She also explained to me that whether I ever made it down to the basement office again or not, I would now, and forever be, her partner. End of story, simple as that. Of course, it wasn't long after that I would come to fully understand that she meant life partner and daddy to her baby. It took a little adjusting, but I came around soon enough. It took me a minute to remember that it wasn't just Scully's dream coming true- it was a dream coming true for both of us. When we had tried to get pregnant before I was abducted, I had high hopes. By that time I knew I had a fatal neurological disorder. And I had known for years that I was desperately in love with my partner. I knew she loved me too, although I have to admit I wasn't quite sure just how she loved me, or how much. I know, we guys can be a little dense in matters of the heart, but I will say that in this instance, Scully was as clueless as I was about my feelings for her, so it wasn't completely my fault. It turns out, she had harbored the same love for me, as well as the same fears over my affections towards her. I guess sometimes the smartest people in the world can also be the stupidest, especially when it comes to something as heartfelt and as simple as love. But knowing that I was going to die, I really, really, really wanted to give my love this one last gift; the gift of life. Little Scully-Mulder would most likely have some of my traits- hopefully all the good ones- and it would have made dying and leaving Scully a little less painful, knowing that my legacy would live on in she and our child. I had really wanted her to have a boy. Now, before anyone thinks that I'm one of those chauvinistic assholes who only wants a boy for purely stupid and Neanderthal like reasons, I want you to know that was not my reasoning at all. Frankly, I would have been thrilled to have a baby girl. Girls are so sweet and cuddly. They look just as adorable in muddy overalls as they would in a frilly dress- something that cannot be said of a boy. I think they're also smarter, too, more intuitive and have more common sense. If you have any doubt of this, just compare me to Scully and you'll have your answer. I've spent many an idle moment imagining, this darling little angel, the mirror image of her mama, sitting on my lap, having tea parties, sharing butterfly kisses, smiling sweetly at me - just like Scully does- and getting away with anything she wants! Oh, I know I would have done my best not to spoil her, but I realized it would be a constant struggle. See, ever since I've developed a close friendship with her, and ever since I realized just how difficult I had made her life, I've always wanted to spoil Scully, give her the things and the fun and the joy she couldn't have otherwise because she was always too busy chasing after me, picking me up and brushing me off, either validating or deflating my theories; basically, saving my ass day after day. Of course, I knew she'd never allow that to happen. Scully has always been fiercely independent and not one for sitting back and letting someone else pamper her. So I have no doubt she would not have been too happy with me spoiling our daughter. But in the end, I really feared that having a little girl might have reminded Scully too much of Emily. I knew that was an ache in her heart that will never go away. It affected me, too. The pain I still feel when thinking back on that time. I remember watching helplessly what had happened to that innocent child. I ached for Scully, thinking at the time that she might never get another chance at motherhood. And I ached for myself, as odd as that might seem. For some reason, I thought of that mysterious but beguiling child as mine, too. I mean, sure, I knew she wasn't really. I had no romantic ideas that she might be either, but Scully and I shared so much, I could easily have imagined becoming that sweet girl's father. Ingraining myself into her heart, just as I had with Scully over the years. And I would have, too. Had Emily survived, and Dana pushed for adoption, I was going to suggest possibly getting married, to double our chances. I know her initial reaction would have been shock, followed by... well, possibly amusement, and she probably would then have refused my offer- initially. But I think she would have come around to the idea. She would have done anything to keep her daughter with her. And I would have done anything to help her. I'm sure it wouldn't have taken long before our "marriage of convenience" became a marriage filled with true love and happiness. But alas, that just wasn't our moment. And poor Emily became a notch on the belt of the bastards who created her without any consent or conscience. But getting back on track, one of the biggest reasons I had wanted a boy was with the hope that the kid might turn out looking at least a little like me. I figured he would be a daily reminder for Scully of her partner and of the love I held for her. Plus, there was always the risk that the kid was going to end up with my nose- and man, I am so sorry about that William, where ever you are, buddy- and I just didn't think a little girl should ever be stuck with that honker! Sure, we could have lucked out and had a child with Scully's cute nose, but with a fifty per cent chance that he/she would be stuck with mine, I would have preferred to pass that legacy on to a male descendant. At the time, even with everything else going on in my life, that was actually something that worried me. Jeez, I can be such a dope. Worried about picking a nose... well, er, you know what I mean! That said, once I realized that Scully was still mine, the baby was mine and that I definitely had a place in both their lives- even if I never made it back to the X-Files again- I felt a lot better about the crotchety Agent Doggett. Now, don't tell Scully- or Doggett for that matter- but his eyes still kind of creeps me out though. As for Monica Reyes, the first time I met her- well, the first meeting that I wasn't dead for at the time, that is- she blew me away with her... how do I put this nicely... her completely irritating, new-agey, weird, freakin' ways! Then lo and behold, I find out that Scully actually likes her. That completely threw me for a loop. She once described Agent Reyes as sort of a cross between me and her late sister, Melissa. (My God, definitely a poster child for birth control there, folks!) Not that I had anything against Melissa, mind you, but she was sort of... well, I'd only met her a few times and she was related to my darling Scully and all, but she was kind of bizarre. Then add me into the mix, and you've got one strange bird. And that's how Ms. Reyes sort of struck me. Of course, that didn't stop me from feeling grateful to her for helping Scully give birth- safely- to our son, even in the midst of prying super soldiers. And she's been a good friend to Scully. I know my partner has missed out on a lot of good friendships- particularly with others of her gender because of me and the work we did. As a woman in the FBI, she was definitely a minority, so she didn't get much of an opportunity for finding other women to hang out with. Women need time together just as much as we guys sometimes do. But where as we guys tend to get together and grunt over video games, poker or sports- yep, that's male bonding for you!- women like to huddle close and share intimate details about their lives. They remember each other's birthdays and have wedding and baby showers for each other. Hell, I've even seen them go to the bathroom in pairs or groups- a phenomenon I've witnessed since grade school and one I still think needs to be classified as an X-File. I mean, what the hell do you ladies do in there together anyways? I've asked Scully before, but she never reveals anything, just says, "it's a secret- you know, power to the sisterhood and all that!" and leaves me hanging. Damn you girls and your restroom rendezvous!!! My trial was a colossal joke, to put it mildly. No matter how earnest or forthcoming anyone from my corner of the ring tried to be, that greasy, smug-bastard of a lawyer representing the military twisted their words and made them come off sounding like liars, idiots or jerks. I mean, how does anyone compete with someone like that? I remember him asking Scully as to whether she and I were lovers and that she had given birth to my love child. Pretty presumptuous, if you ask me, even if it was true. I know Scully had been about to answer that in the affirmative, when Skinner stepped up and objected. I don't know why, Wally. I think by now just about everyone knew Scully and I made that "love child" together. William... I can still get pretty teary-eyed just thinking about my baby boy. I know Scully still does. I remember that morning before court, she coming to me in my cell, kneeling down on the cold, hard floor that served as my bed. I had been about to playfully suggest we make this a conjugal visit, when I noticed the fearful look on her face. She was plagued with guilt over what she had done and with worry over how she thought I might take the news. Luckily I'd been prepared for this. Skinner had let me in on the fact that Scully had been forced to give our beautiful son up for adoption. She did so only with the understanding that there was no other way to keep our little miracle safe from harm. I know making this decision- especially alone- had devastated her. I know it still does to this day. Of course, I did not hold it against her. How could I have? If things had been different, if I had stayed with them, helped her raise our son, maybe none of this would have happened. Or maybe something worse might have happened. I guess we'll never really know. One thing I do know is that we will someday find our son. I'm sure of that fact. I'm not sure how I know, but I just do. We will see William again. We will hold him and tell him that we love him. I will never give up hope on that dream. It's completely obtainable as far as I'm concerned and to this day, we both continue to look for him. Between the two of us alone- and we do have some help in this area from outside parties as well- we will find him. Now, neither one of us are looking to steal William away from a happy home or anything. We just both want him to know the reasons why we had to give him up. And we want him to know that we love him- and we always will- and we want to ask him to forgive us and to see if he might have a place in his life- and his heart- for us. That's all we're looking for at this point. Of course, if my boy jumps out of his chair and into my arms and says, "Dad, please take me away from here!" I'd probably do it in a New York minute, but we'd just have to see what Scully says. I remember after I escaped from the military jail- and certain death- with the help of Scully, Skinner, Doggett and Reyes, Gibson Praise, and- of all people- Alvin Kersh. I still don't really know what to make of the D. D.'s supposed change of heart towards me, but while I'm grateful to have gotten out of that death trap, I still can't say that I trust him any more than I'd trust a poisonous snake not to bite me for sticking my foot in its nest. Scully had told me she had already said goodbye to all of our friends. Me, I didn't get much time to do so, but I did give Gibson a little pat on the cheek. That kid was a good friend to me. We hid out together in New Mexico for quite some time. And I came to think of him as sort of a surrogate son. I know that he should have probably come with us, but for some reason, no one else seemed to think that necessary. I still have ties to the FBI and I am repeatedly assured that young Mr. Praise is alive and well and living somewhere safe and secure. Soon, I hope I will get to see him again, too. I'd love to get him and William back, along with the rest of us, we could buy a big, huge house and become like one of those corny television comedies about big, happy families. I would love nothing more than to give this to Scully- and to myself. After we saw the Cigarette Smoking Bastard- eh, I mean man- get killed (how many times is that now?) at the Indian ruins, Scully and I high-tailed it out of there. We were frightened beyond compare that Agents Doggett and Reyes had gotten caught or killed or something, but we later discovered that they were all right and had gotten away, too. Our first night alone together was... God, another one of those indescribable moments. Both of us were still half in shock by the news of the day (remember? Aliens are a'comin' real soon! Mark it on your calendar, folks! December 22, 2012!) and by our reactions to each other's reactions. Scully was so much braver than even I could give her credit for. She also has a lot of faith in me. I still don't know what exactly we must do, but I'm going to do my hardest, best try. I intend not to fail. I don't want the world to end. I don't want everyone I've ever known and cared about to die or become alien slaves. I want William and Gibson and every other child to have the chance to dream about the future without dread, to grow up and become whatever it is they wish to become without any alien threat looming over their heads. And most of all, I want to make my Scully happy. I want to be happy with her. I want to go to sleep with her every night and wake up with her every morning. I want the chance to make love with her any time we feel the urge, and not have to wonder if it will be the last time. I want to live in that big house with her, and fill it up with lots of kids and pets and family and laughter. I want these things so badly for my Scully, and for myself and for everyone who wants them. I want us all to live long enough to achieve this. I'd love to become a grandfather someday, but in order to achieve that goal, I need to live, my children need to live, their children need to have the time to be made and born and grow; and live... Scully and I made love that night for the first time since that fateful night I'd left her, only to be abducted in Oregon nearly two years before. Both of our bodies had changed. I had lived through death, if such a thing is possible, and I had lost so much weight. I had gained most of it back by this time, but I have to admit living life in seclusion does little to inspire a good exercise routine. I'm not saying I was Mr. Lard Ass or anything- not by a long shot- but I wasn't the man I used to be. Hell, who still is? But Scully, she was different too. Motherhood had changed her body as well, but only for the better, much to my delight. Her body was a bit fuller. She retained some of the weight around her hips, making her curvier and even more womanly. Her breasts had retained some of that weight as well. Yowza! That woman was literally one, hot mama! But despite the differences in our bodies, we still moved together with that same sureness, as if we'd never stopped being physically intimate for so long. I guess Frohike was right, it was just like riding a bike! But seriously, being with Scully that night was an incredible experience. It left us both sweaty, panting, a little teary-eyed with joy at being reunited, and completely and thoroughly satisfied. I slept soundly for the first time in months, having her tiny form pressed against me all night. I think she did, too. The next morning, we took a shower together and just held each other under the spray until the water ran cold. Neither one of us wanted to pull away. She cried some more, and so did I, and we made a vow to never separate again, no matter what. I truly believe she meant it. I know I did. Afterwards, we ate breakfast and tried to work out a plan of execution. That was over five years ago. And here we are, Mr. and Mrs. Spooky, still together and still running and planning. We have contacts that have helped us discover a few things over these years on the lam. I still contact Skinner and Doggett from time to time. Scully talks to Reyes once in awhile, and she still retains ties to her family. Neither of us thought her mother would ever forgive us for running away like this- hell, when we left, her mother was still not talking to her for giving William up for adoption- but Margaret Scully is nothing if she's not tenacious and strong and... well, forgiving. She, too, is helping us look for William. She and Scully's brothers and their families. Yes, it's not very often, but once every so often we get the chance to correspond with her family. I know Bill still thinks I'm a sorry son of a bitch, and he might even hate me more for taking his sister on the run with me, but he swallows his pride and shuts his mouth about it just for the chance to talk to Dana once in awhile. God, I know I've fucked up her family relations and it breaks my heart, but Scully refuses to blame me, even if I condemn myself. She continually tells me that it was her choice to follow me, her choice to stay. Those words come to mean the most to me on the really tough days. I also seem to have acquired a few more "friends" that tend to communicate with me from time to time. I don't always see them, but I can hear them speaking to me in my head. I've only heard from X a few times since I saw him in the military prison so long ago. He only seems to come to me when there's possible danger on the horizon, or if there's a piece of information I need and can't find elsewhere. Old "Rat Boy", a. k. a. Alex Krycek also keeps his distance. Yes, he may have helped me in that prison as well, I still have a hard time "talking" to him. Too many bad memories sit between us. I remember all the shit he's put me through, what he did to Skinner, and of course, the part he played in my Scully's abduction over ten years ago. It may have been over a decade ago, but those feelings of helplessness and despair during that time of not knowing where my partner was are still raw and painful and bubbling just under the surface of my soul. I will never forget that time- and not only because of my eidetic memory. Thankfully, old Alex seems to know this and he doesn't bother with me much. The three Stooges on the other hand- oh, gunmen, I mean the Lone Gunmen... God, those guys were pains in the ass most of the time I knew them in life. Well, they've seemingly perfected their pain-in-the-ass finesse somewhere in the after life. Byers is the least troublesome, I'll give him that. In fact, he's usually the most helpful when it comes to guidance. And he's always telling me how proud of Scully and me he is for our selfless efforts to save the world. He always was sort of the sympathetic, big brother type, I guess. Sometimes, we talk about William. I don't talk too much about our son to Scully, because I think it upsets her and I hate doing that. I did that enough during our partnership at the FBI. I don't want to continue down that road in our partnership in life. But Byers doesn't mind talking about William. He tells me sometimes that he can see the boy and knows that he is safe. It's reassuring to me to know that the most conscientious, serious and meticulous of the three gunmen is looking out for my kid. Langly makes a more traditional ghost- eh, spirit. He says he prefers the more politically correct term. He'll sneak up on me when I least expect it and then whisper "boo" into my ear. And damn if it doesn't get to me every time! Sometimes he appears, sometimes he just makes noise. He's been known to play pranks on Scully and I every so often. He once made Scully drop an entire pot roast on the floor when he blew into her hair from behind. Seeing as I was sitting at the table she was approaching and no one else- well, among the living, that is- was in the apartment at the time, she was understandably... disturbed. I explained that Langly- who I called an asshole for making her drop our dinner on the floor- was just trying to be silly and say hi. She warned him never to do that again, or she would kick his ass. Langly informed me with a smirk that since he no longer is tied to his physical body, he doesn't really have an ass to kick. I told him to explain that to Scully himself, as I was still mortal and not about to get my own ass put in a sling. Still, Langly can be cool sometimes, too. It's weird, but on nights when I'm up late and Scully's already asleep, old "pony tail" will turn on my X-Box with his ghostly- eh, spirit like- powers and we'll play a little Halo or Madden. See? He's not a complete waste of space... or energy... whatever the hell he is now. Then there's Frohike! In his own words- used against him- he can be such a punk ass! Death hasn't changed that little troll one bit! And I mean that in the most loving, affectionate way possible. Ever since I was on the can and reading the latest Mad Magazine (I gave up porn for my Scully, ain't I a prince?), and I heard a certain gravelly voice in my ear asking for a courtesy flush, I told Frohike to go to hell. He then informed me that he was too good for hell, and technically, he should have "crossed over" by now- watching "Ghost Whisperer" much?- but was being so nice to stick around in case Agent Scrumptious (his pet name for my woman; grrr!) and I needed any help. So I rephrased it and told him to get the hell out of the bathroom, or my brain, or some weird in-between while I was on the crapper. After I "finished up" in there, I came out of the head, then had to calmly explain to one concerned significant other why I had been yelling at the top of my lungs while in the potty. And after that, I "summoned" the guys- for lack of a better word- and had a little pow wow with the ghostly trio about haunting do's and don'ts for Scully and I. Mostly that meant naming certain moments in which they were automatically not wanted. This included- but was not limited to- bathroom time, either in the shower or on the pot, and bed time- especially for those times that Scully and I were both in bed together and neither of us were sleeping, if you catch my drift. That last rule was met with a dirty-old-man growl from Melvin Frohike, and he mentioned something about having his own personal, live- action porno flick. While steam came out of my ears and I started threatening violence, and I told him I didn't care if they were of the "living impaired", Byers scolded the taunting Frohike and solemnly promised me that mine and Scully's privacy- especially during private moments- would be maintained and respected and that if Melvin acted up, he would hit him with his own personal brand of ecto-plasm. To be honest, by this time, I was less angry and more intrigued by the idea of watching an ecto-plasm fight. I thought that might be kind of cool. But the Lone Gunmen, always great friends to Scully and I in life, are now protectors and advisors for us in the after- life. And yes, they're still great friends. And it tickles me to no end to know that even after death, Byers still can't beat me at a game of Chess. For all its freedoms and lack of inhibition, I guess the after-life doesn't hand out any extra intellect. (Insert snicker here!) Not long after leaving New Mexico, Scully and I passed through Nevada. We even did a little gambling at a couple of the casinos. I'm a slot man myself, but Scully seemed content to play Bingo all day. (I know, isn't that something she could do every Saturday night at a Church hall?) We had promised ourselves not to do any extravagant spending, and limited our gambling money to about a hundred dollars each, but for some strange reason, both of us doubled our cash flow. That doesn't usually happen in Vegas. For lighting to strike twice within the same camp is even more of a fluke, but I wasn't complaining. I guess we went there and just wanted to blow off a little steam. Take a quick break in our lives, which we knew were going to be pretty stressful and nomadic for the next few years. Although neither of us wanted to waste our money, we weren't hard up for cash. I don't think we ever will be to be honest. Well, not unless one of us gets addicted to the Home Shopping Network or something. You see, both my parents had left me quite a hefty amount of inheritance upon their deaths. When I died- or laid low in a hole in the ground for several months as the case may be- all that wealth transferred to my next of kin- Scully. As for Scully herself, she did not come from a rich family, but she had managed to save up quite a nest egg over the years. Plus, the Gunmen left most of their estate to Scully as well, so our combined net worth will be able to take care of us- and anyone else who comes along- for years and years to come. We didn't stay too long in Sin City. Scully wasn't a big fan of the place. Neither of us have ever been big gambling nuts- unless you count the times we gambled with our lives while on the job- and my lovely lady accused me too often of spying on the scantily clad cigarette girls. Truthfully though, I think she was more afraid I was going to force her into seeing all the Elvis Presley impersonators. And I would have too, except she kept countering my threats by promising to drag me to go see Celene Dion in concert. We decided to call it a draw and leave the Sunset Strip before things got seriously ugly. But being in Vegas did make me start thinking- and no, not of becoming an Elvis impersonator- about something else that was very serious, something very important to me. Ever since I had been reborn and had come to terms with my role in Scully's life and our son's, there was nothing I had wanted more than to make our little family "official" by asking my love to marry me. Not long after William was born, however, I had to flee and I was gone for so long. But all that time spent away from my Scully just made me realize how much I did love her and how much I really wanted her to become my wife. Our reunion was a strange one, meeting up in a military jail cell and then the courtroom. Then my daring escape and our subsequent journey to the desert only to find that black-lunged son of a bitch waiting for us like a spider waiting in its web for a fly. We were both so shaken by our sudden turn of events and the urge to keep moving- running- took precedence in our minds. But in Las Vegas, I began to rekindle those desires to ask Scully for her hand in marriage. There were so many wedding chapels there it was hard not to think of it. In fact, I believe Scully thought I might pop the question to her there. But I didn't want to- not in Vegas, anyway. I never wanted a "quickie" wedding with Dana Scully, although I'm not adverse to a "quickie" with her now and then, heh, heh. Byers' ghost- oh, sorry; spirit, Byer's spirit- advised me that it was a good idea I had avoided the whole "Vegas Wedding" thing and suggested I do something simple, but romantic for the woman in my life. As usual, Byers' sensitive side- which usually got his ass kicked in life- came in handy and I agreed to find the proper setting to propose. The proper setting came in the form of Arizona, Tucson to be exact. That had been our next stop after Nevada. We had been aiming for California, but wanted to take another break and found ourselves in the Old Pueblo. Tucson is a nice city. It's huge, but not as big or as crazy as Los Angeles. Unfortunately, there's also not as much touristy things to do there, but not to worry, there is still fun to be had out among the Saguaros. We visited Old Tucson, which was a sort of wild west theme park that, in its hey day, was a movie studio where some of our most beloved western movies were filmed. We caught a couple of ball games too. That sweet woman of mine, Scully acquired us tickets to not only a Tucson Sidewinders minor league baseball game, but we also got to see a new franchise in action. The Arizona Heat- from the new, professional women's fast pitch softball league- began its inaugural season in 2004, just when we had arrived. Pretty fun stuff! It was while we were hiking through Sabino Canyon that I finally became inspired enough to ask Scully the question I had wanted to ask her for the last few years. Byers' voice was in my head telling me to wait until sunset to pop the question. And he turned out to be right. Man, it was breathtaking. I had heard someone say once that nobody has more beautiful sunsets than Arizona. And damn if they weren't right! All those colors blending and colliding in the sky, the shadows of the cacti looming large around us. Scully's sweet face reflected the awe that I felt watching the sky alight with brilliance. It was then, I took her hand and knelt down on one knee. Unfortunately, I didn't look before kneeling and I accidentally set my knee into some prickly pear. OUCH! Shit, that hurt! But after she cleaned me up back at the hotel room and attended to my wounds, we sat on the bed together and I brought out the ring. It had been my grandmother's ring- on my mother's side. She had been saving it for Samantha, my sister, but, well, you know that story... Anyway, my grandmother died just before I went off to England to go to Oxford. I think she knew that Samantha was never coming back. It was just a month and a half left of summer vacation before I was to leave. I went to visit her in Maine. That's when she had given me the ring. She and my grandfather- who had passed away just two years before- had been married fifty-two years until his death and theirs had been a long and happy marriage. Knowing that my sister would never come back to claim this ring, and wanting me to skip the disasters of my own parents' marriage, Granny gave me her ring and told me to find that one, special someone. I had smiled condescendingly at her- in that way that young adults often do to anyone they think is not as smart as they must be- and told her I'd probably never get married; I just wasn't looking for that type of life. But she insisted I take it anyway, on the off chance I change my mind. I took the ring from her, kissed her goodbye and then came back two weeks later for her funeral. As sad as I had been at her passing, I never put much more thought into that ring for years to come. I did marry not long after being recruited by the Bureau. I was about twenty-eight years old and she was ten years younger than I was. We met by chance, in a bookstore. She was small and cute and nothing like the way I usually took my women. But there was something so darling and fragile and precious about her. As much as it pains me to admit this, she really reminded me of my long-lost sister. And without trying to sound gross or perverted, I think I felt more of a brotherly affection for her and unintentionally confused it for something else. (I know, I'm a trained psychologist, I should have figured it out, but diagnosing yourself isn't as easy as one might think!) Needless to say, that marriage lasted less than a year. But let's face it. She was a kid and I still acted like one, so it wasn't going to work. I never did give her Granny's ring. Never even thought about it. In fact, I wasn't even sure where I'd put it or if I still had it. Some years later, I was working on the X-Files. I had pretty much given up on romance altogether by that point. My love life consisted of me, myself and I and a whole bunch of dirty magazines and movies- with the occasional 1-800 number thrown in for variety. I had not long before split up with Diana Fowley, and while our break up had not affected me all that greatly- after all, I had bigger fish to fry- I was still pretty much soured by that whole "love thang". Between Phoebe Green and Diana, as well as my own failed marriage, I figured that the love and marriage gig wasn't for me, just as I had predicted to my late grandmother so many years ago. It was around this time I acquired a new partner- or in FBI speak, someone to spy on me and follow me around like a pain in the ass. But lo and behold, that new pain in the ass turned out to be Dana Katherine Scully. To say she changed my life would be a gross understatement. She quickly endeared herself to me, on the first case we embarked upon together. But I'll never forget the night before we set off for Oregon. I was going through my closet, trying to yank out my suitcase. I had managed to wedge it in there real tight after my last trip. I pulled it hard and it popped out, but not without jarring the shelf above it and knocking a couple old, dusty boxes off and onto my thick head. I recall that I had started grumbling and rubbing my noggin, and complaining about taking little Miss Agent "Perfect" with me when something fell out onto the floor. I picked it up to see a small jewelry box. Opening it, I discovered that I had found my grandmother's engagement ring. Hindsight being 20/20, I should have realized the significance even then. Just when I meet my new partner, I find the ring I'm supposed to give to my one, true love, although the connection eluded me then. I didn't really believe in fate back in the day, or in romance or love. Sure, I believed in aliens and mutants and big foot, but love? Forget it! Still, for some reason I couldn't comprehend at the time, I made sure to keep the ring in a safe place. Through out my partnership with Scully, I would often go back and look at that ring. All right, maybe not at first. But I probably started that habit around the time that damn lunatic Duane Barry had abducted her. I think it was about then- yes, way back then- that I realized how much I loved my partner. It amazed me to see how the whole sum of my life and all its meaning could fit into a five foot two redhead with blue eyes and a Mona Lisa smile. Finally, I understood what my granny had been trying to tell me. Finally, I found the woman I was supposed to give this ring to. It only took me another decade or so to get around to it, but hey, everyone goes at their own pace, right? Scully and I were married four months later in Sabino Canyon by a Catholic priest at sunset. (And in case you're wondering, yes, my ex-wife had our failed marriage annulled years ago, so this ceremony was able to be.) She wore a simple off-white cotton dress and looked positively yummy. I wore a nice, but comfortable suit- sans tie. I thought I looked okay, but the deep growl I heard in Scully's throat upon seeing me gave me cause to reason that I must have looked equally edible. This time we played it safe and made sure there were absolutely no cactus patches anywhere near us. Scully saw to that. Guess she didn't want to spend her wedding night in the emergency room. And so, after over ten years of knowing this incredible, precious, beautiful, intelligent earth-bound angel, I finally grew up and made things right. Scully and I were now unofficially officially Mr. and Mrs. Happily Ever After. That's right, I said unofficially officially. See, while it was official that we were in love and happy to be married, and the wedding had been performed by a real member of the clergy from the Catholic church, we feared turning in any marriage certificate to the government, ever careful and always vigilant of the watchful eyes that could be anywhere at any given moment. It was a little depressing to me; after all, we were married now and I wanted the whole damn world to know that she was mine and I was hers and we would be together forever. But my beautiful love, she took my hand, steering me away from some jumping cactus- always looking out for me, my girl- and gently whispered in my ear that while the United States government may not know that we are married, we ourselves knew it, as would our family and friends. The government may not have officiated at our wedding, but we had an even bigger officiator- God Himself. And what better temple to hold the ceremony than the great outdoors; the biggest, most natural church on the planet? That night at our hotel room was the most blissful, peaceful time I have ever known. As I hovered over the gorgeous woman writhing in ecstasy beneath me, as we both succumbed to the sublime and veered over the edge, catching each other in free fall, I reflected on my life with Scully so far. I had spent a decade fantasizing about her. I had even had the privilege of making love to her- well, off and on- for the last few years, but that night was the most special of all, because that night was the first time I got to make love to my wife. In spite of our nomadic lifestyle, in spite of the danger we knew we were constantly in, and in spite of all the uncertainty of the future ahead of us, I felt happy, content; totally at peace. That feeling hasn't left me yet. Scully and I spent the next year roaming around the country, discovering new leads and contacts along the way and moving steadily as to avoid detection. What we have found out over these last few years on the run is that we have a lot of support from many different people. The Lone Gunmen had left us a legacy of friends who were even more paranoid and suspicious than they ever were. These kinds of people often make good allies. They'll go the distance to help you find out secrets because, no matter what the subject of any given conspiracy may be, if it involves the government, they don't trust it and are more than willing to do whatever they can to aid in bringing down the establishment. Recalling one clandestine meeting with a group of MUFON members in New Jersey a couple years back, I remember talking to them, while Scully opted to play "silent partner" and kept a quiet, supportive vigil at my side. After the meeting, we answered a few questions one on one, had some cold coffee and stale cookies, then left for our hotel. I had this fire rekindled inside of me, my fervor for stopping this alien invasion once again stoking that passion. Scully had mentioned to me that I had the light back in my eyes. Of course, she noted that twinkle at a time when I was- unbeknownst to her- checking out her fine backside while she was folding some laundry, but yes, I had to admit, my energy for our cause had returned full force. I did realize though that these meetings made Scully sort of uncomfortable. I could always see her fidgeting out of the corner of my eye. Not that she was bored with my speeches or anything- at least, that's what she told me- but she obviously wasn't used to hanging out with the, um... well, you've heard of the in crowd, right? The opposite would logically be the out crowd. But the people we were now dealing with on a regular basis went one step beyond that, sort of like the out-there crowd. After one particular meeting, she whispered into my ear that she had never seen so many nerds, dorks and weirdoes all in one setting. I told her obviously she had never seen a group of guys at a frat house when there were no girls around. It was then she looked at me and asked just what college such a frat house might be located in. My reply was simply, "I-really- wanna-lay-U." The smack I received on my bicep was well worth the shocked expression and deep color on my wife's face. Yeah, nice to know I hadn't lost my touch! But not all of our audience looked like they stepped right out of Revenge of the Nerds. We found quite a few scientists who not only believed in extreme possibilities, also felt the need to prepare for them. In this venture, I would have Scully take the reins, this being her type of colleague, her realm of expertise. Now, I'm not into giving away important secrets to our cause, but some of Scully's scientist geeks- ahem, I mean friends- are developing weaponry that could definitely put a large dent in the plans of the other worldly. One word, folks: magnetite. It's the weapon of the future. Trust me on this. Scully had been thinking along these lines for quite some time. Problem is, we didn't have a portable lab to take with us wherever we went, so a lot of the development and experimentation had to done by those with better means. During all of this running around, moving from place to place, converging with ghosts- I mean spirits!- and planning the battle to end all battles, my beautiful wife and I came to the sudden decision that we would like to have more children. It was January 2006 and Scully finished up in the bathroom, walked over and sat down next to me on the sofa of the latest apartment we would call home. She didn't say anything, but had sort of a funny look on her face, so I asked her what was wrong. She hesitated, and started stuttering, which is something that Dana Katherine Scully-Mulder very rarely does. I rolled my eyes and asked if she plugged up the toilet again, to which she glared at me and told me in no uncertain terms that the last time the toilet had overflowed in her presence was only when she used it after me. While I suppose she's trying to imply that, not only does her shit not stink, but that she doesn't even shit in the first place, which we all know is contrary to human nature, but also that, apparently any time there's a problem with "the plumbing", it's only because I took too big of a dump myself. I declined from expressing my belief, lest I end up sleeping on the couch for a week, and just went back to reading the newspaper. But Scully kept staring at me, kept hemming and hawing as if she had something to say, but just didn't want to- or didn't know how- to tell me. Finally, after having her stare a hole into the back of my head, I dropped the paper into my lap and asked her if I had a booger hanging out of my nose or maybe a piece of broccoli stuck in my teeth. Again, she glared at me, but this time, it was different. This time, I noticed that there were tears glistening in those luminescent, blue orbs. Gripping her hand in mine, I asked her, full-faced, without distraction- and expecting her complete honesty- what was going on. She lowered her head, and for the briefest of moments, my heart stopped beating, fearing for her health, my mind wandering over things like cancer, microchips, abductions and the like. The sweat was beading my brow before she even had a chance to speak, but suddenly I could hear the reassuring voice of John Fitzgerald Byers in my head, telling me to calm down and just listen. He assured me she wasn't sick or rethinking her life on the run with me, or regretting becoming my wife or any other such nonsense. It was then, she started talking about William. And just as Byers had suggested, I calmed down and listened to her. She babbled on about our son's first tooth, the way he used to laugh when she blew raspberries on his tummy, how he had been starting to walk around the time she had been forced to give him up for adoption. These stories were bittersweet to me, to us both, I'm sure. While I loved hearing about the adventures of William Scully-Mulder, it was hard knowing that I had not been there to experience them first hand, and even more difficult realizing that we didn't know any more stories of him after that time. I loved my son. I loved hearing about him, as much as it hurt. I also loved my wife and reasoned that perhaps telling me these things might be therapeutic to her somehow. That's when she dropped the bomb on me. I remember her words exactly. "Mulder, I miss William. But it's more than that. I miss the whole mothering experience. Honey, I want another baby." I'm sure my eyes were as wide as saucers. I stammered for a moment or two, unsure of what to say. Of course, I would have loved to have more children with Scully, but there were little niggling facets of information that might interfere. One, we live life on the run, often times living out of suitcases, moving from city to city, hotel to hotel. Occasionally we would find an apartment, but we never dared stay too long. And then, of course, there was the fact that, aside from William, Dana couldn't conceive. William, our son, was a miracle, and we never ceased to marvel at his existence, but the sad truth remained, my wife was barren, and under normal circumstances, could not get pregnant... In a perverse analogy, ever wonder how Japan felt, during World War II, when, after only realizing they'd been blasted with the atomic bomb on Hiroshima, they had no time to recover before being hit again, full blast at Nagasaki? Well, my situation was much different, mind you, and not at all horrible or tragic, but with just as much surprise and no time to prepare for another bombshell. Before I could count the pros and cons of trying for another baby with Scully, she decided to make it easier for me by informing me that she was pregnant. Already. At least two months, she gathered. There was a baby- our baby- growing inside of my precious wife's belly. Scully watched me expectantly, and I'm sure I must have sat there for a day or two, with a dumbfounded expression on my stupid face, unable to speak- much less blink- for a long, long time. Finally, she rested a hand on my arm and called my name. The sound of my wife's voice, especially when it is used to call my name, is capable of evoking so many different sensations in me. It can send me to paradise, it could lull me off to peaceful slumber. It could also, when necessary, bring me back to reality. That's what it did this time. She called my name again, a look of fear and uncertainty creeping up on her lovely features. I came to quickly understand that the expression on her face was created by my less than enthusiastic reply. In fact, I had neglected to reply at all as of yet, still ensconced in my shocked stupor. It was then I forced my mouth to open, and forced my tongue and my voice into action. I first asked her if she was absolutely and completely sure of her findings. To this she answered in the affirmative. Knowing my wife and how thorough and careful she was, I did not need to ask her twice. After this, I felt the tears prick my eyes as I took her into my trembling arms and told her that I loved her and that I couldn't wait to meet our new baby. She began to sob in earnest and kissed me passionately, before settling herself onto my lap and resting her titian head upon my capable shoulders. Those capable shoulders were still shaking by the way, as I was still in shock, not to mention scared shitless as to not only how we were going to manage keeping up our nomadic lifestyle while trying to care for an infant, as well as how in the world we had conceived- again!- in the first place. One miracle per family, per lifetime. That's how I thought it worked. But lightning didn't strike twice in the same place... did it? While I held Scully against me, cradling her small form and caressing her soft, porcelain skin with a gentle hand, I silently asked Byers how this could be. How could it be that a couple incapable of having children are blessed with not just one, but two children? The spirit of my old friend told me only that yes, this new pregnancy was another miracle, but not to push for the answer why. Why didn't matter, not to God, and certainly not to us. We had been chosen, Byers said, using the most serious of all his serious tones. Our children were special, and so were we, but ours was not question why, only to rejoice in the gift and to act accordingly. I still felt gypped out of a real answer, but I didn't press the matter any further, knowing that I would never get anything more coherent out of my "spirit guide" anyway. Besides, I was too busy rejoicing in mine and Scully's blessing, and celebrating with my wife. That night, in the soft comforts of our bed, we would do a little more celebrating. But the world was crazy that way, I guess. Just when you think you may be ushering in the end of life as we know it, along comes one life that simply astounds and blows you away. As I held Scully in my arms that night, drifting off to sleep in the sweet, heavy afterglow, I had to marvel again at this pregnancy. A sleepy Scully murmured something about this new baby being a sign of good things to come; a real miracle At this I smiled stupidly and gave her a sloppy kiss before informing her that she was a miracle to me. And once the initial shock of it all wore off, I had to say that I was quite proud of myself! I mean, I got a woman pregnant who was supposed to be barren- twice! Scully, being so small and feminine, despite her powerful presence, has always made me feel big and strong and manly. But I'd never felt so... so... virile in all my life! So I strutted around a lot those nine months. Scully, darling that she is, told me how cute I was. Wow! Virile and cute! Damn, I'm good! When you are pregnant, finding the right caregiver can be tricky. When you are pregnant and constantly traveling all over the country, finding the right caregiver can be almost impossible. But we did manage to come across some great doctors who continued with Scully's care until we moved on to the next town. Plus, it was a bonus that Scully herself was a doctor, and although her specialty had been in the field of death rather than new life, she managed to keep up with the latest information and took a big part in her own care management. When Scully was pregnant with William, I wasn't there. During her first trimester, she went through morning sickness and nausea. She had to give up her beloved morning cup of coffee. She had to find an obstetrician. I was off-planet, flying around in a giant, invisible spacecraft, being continuously tortured and experimented on. During Scully's second trimester, her body began to subtly change. Her appetite increased. Her sex drive- though sadly wasted there- increased. Consequently, her sexual frustration increased. Scully was taking pre-natal vitamins and still surviving without that morning caffeine pick-me-up. She was enduring the pain of a sore back as her posture began to shift. She was stocking up on baby supplies, reading up on childbirth and the first months that follow. She was going through baby names and converting her guest bedroom into a cheery nursery. I was slowly orbiting the earth, then dropped and left for dead. I was soon found and subsequently buried six feet beneath the earth. Six feet away from Scully and our baby. It might as well had been six thousand miles away for all that I couldn't reach for her, couldn't call to her or touch her or hold her in my arms. My arms were placed gently across my chest in preparation for the big sleep. During the better part of Scully's third trimester, she watched her burgeoning belly become almost a persona onto its own. She outgrew all of her own clothes and was forced to buy "maternity wear". She really felt the weight of her child upon her bladder and made frequent use of the bathroom. She suffered through swollen ankles and swollen feet. She was now no longer craving that morning caffeine, but rather crazy things like orange juice at two in the morning, or brownies topped with ice-cream topped with something zany like potato chips maybe. But Scully had to go to the store herself for any of her weird cravings. Scully had to ask for outside help setting up the crib in the nursery. Scully had to deal with the fact that this miracle growing inside of her would never know its father. She realized that she would have to raise this baby alone. I spent most of Scully's third trimester still dead and buried in the ground. I was then exhumed and examined, being poked and prodded not unlike what the aliens had done to me before. Only this time, I couldn't feel it. To most observers I was still dead, not among the living. They hesitated removing me from my coffin, my "home" for the last three months. But then something happened. Scully's life and mine met again. I was saved, and by way of me, so was she. And she felt so grateful of my return. She was actually happy. I spent too much time brooding and aching and not knowing my place. Scully set me straight. She saved me again, this time in my soul. I fervently accepted her invitation to join her in Lamaze class. She had not done this beforehand. It was as if, deep down, she knew I would still make it back to her someday and she saved this for us to do together. And we did. And it was wonderful doing this with her. It felt good; it felt right. During Scully's labor giving birth to our son, she was forced to hide in a ghost town, with a woman who, although nice and kind, was practically a stranger to her at the time, and not at all trained in the medical field. Scully had to give birth in a musty room, surrounded by strange beings who regarded her as one might regard a lab rat injected with an experimental drug. She was frightened for her safety, and for our baby's. During Scully's labor, I was leaving Washington and frantically trying to find her. I saw the star; I followed the light, which did take me to her and our son, but I had missed the birth. I had missed out on so much of the process of pregnancy the first time around. Granted, I couldn't exactly help it, but I still felt like a heel for not getting to be there for her; to see her through every ache and pain, every joy, from seeing the first glimpse on a sonogram to choosing the perfect name for the small life still hidden away inside, to cutting the cord on my newborn son. I was not going to miss out on a thing this time. No friggin' way! When Scully suffered through morning sickness during her first trimester, I was at her side holding the soda crackers for her to nibble on, or leaning beside her in front of the toilet holding back her hair when the crackers had failed to do their job. When Scully's back began to ache in her second trimester, I was there to rub it. And you can be sure as hell that when Scully's sexual appetite began to increase, I was there to feed it! When Scully's belly began to expand and she felt fat and unattractive, I was there to reassure her of her beauty and to confess that her pregnant glow was nothing less than breathtaking to see. During Scully's third trimester, her sexual appetite decreased, but her cravings increased. I was there to go fetch watermelon and bean dip at three in the morning. I was also there at every doctor's appointment. I saw every sonogram. And when Scully's labor began, in a small hospital in Shelbyville, Indiana, I was there, holding her hand, feeding her ice chips, coaching her. On a warm summer's night on July 4th, 2006, my wife and I welcomed our daughter, Melissa Teena Mulder into the world at 8 p. m. just as the fireworks were starting. An hour later, as the grand finale burst through the sky, we welcomed our second daughter, Samantha Margaret Mulder into the world along with her sister. Scully and I were beside ourselves when we had discovered after the second sonogram that we had been blessed with twins. And little girls! Just as I had wanted William to be a boy, I had been wanting just as much for our next child to be a girl. I guess someone up there in the heavens was listening twice as well, for we got two little girls in the bargain! At their births, I can't ever remember a time when I had felt so much joy and promise- both for our family's lives as well as for the world in general. There is nothing so profound and more hopeful in this world than the birth of new life. It is in the wake of this new life, this tiny, innocent being that one knows that the world will go on, it will survive. It must! It has to, if only to sustain and nurture this newborn wonder who's only mission is to live and thrive. And we got that twofold! Melissa Teena, named after Scully's sister and my mother, was loud from the minute she was yanked from the birth canal. She weighed in at four pounds, twelve ounces and was seventeen inches long. Even at birth she had a head full of dark, luxurious locks and she reminded me so much of my sister Samantha when she was a baby. I sobbed openly, as I cut the cord, then held her to my chest before setting her upon Scully's. We had an hour before her sister would arrive on the outside, but little time for quiet reflection, as the labor intensified. That next hour brought about another miracle. Samantha Margaret, named after my sister and Scully's mom, was obviously going to be the quiet one between the two girls. She did squawk upon her exit from her nice, cozy womb, but settled down as soon as she was set in her mother's arms. Samantha had soft, reddish fuzz on her small head. She was definitely the runt of the litter, as I would later come to call her. She weighed only four pounds on the dot and was sixteen inches long. I don't think that I've ever seen anyone so tiny in my life! She looks just like her mom, and just as with her sister before her, she's easily stolen my heart. This one seemed to take more to Scully than me- although Melissa liked being held by Daddy from the start- so I knew I'd have my work cut out for me winning her over. Wow! Again, just like with her mommy! We spent a few nights in the hospital, monitoring the twins' weight and progress, as they had been born a little early. I had been apprehensive, but Scully assured me that most twins came early for some reason. I told her it's probably because no one likes sharing a womb with their sibling. I remember her lady like snort, then watched in awe as she began breast- feeding, one child on each breast. The word beautiful does not do that scene justice. Watching my wife nourish our children with her mother's milk went far beyond beautiful. The tears were flowing freely in that hospital room, and I'm not just talking about the babies. It was amazing, watching these two, tiny beings grow and learn. I'm completely in love with my adorable baby girls. And my love for my son William has only increased with this experience as well. It does break my heart to know all that I missed- and am still missing- with my son, but it's all the more reason to find him and soon. He's got two little sisters who have been told of him and who will certainly love him, that he needs to meet. And although both Scully and I feel William's absence from our little unit like a missing limb, we know that, wherever he is, he is still- and will always be- a part of this family. And as for Scully, I've never been more in love with my wife! She is so awe-inspiring. It was a roller coaster ride, going through the pregnancy with her, then our daughters' births. She is such a remarkable woman. She is my hope, my heart, my life. She always will be. On the tough days when I feel a little overwhelmed by fatherhood, or our unconventional lifestyle, or by living with the weight of the world on my shoulders and knowing that I must find some way to save it, I remember that, while the entire world is counting on me to deliver them from certain doom- even if most of its inhabitants don't even know it- Scully is there to save me... whether from alien forces, government conspiracies, unknown monsters, or just my own self-doubt, Scully is there. She is my perennial life support. She is my constant, my touchstone. She is the reason that I've made it this far, and the reason that I can continue on in a world full of uncertainty. She is everything. Now our lives are quite full. The girls are a year old and they've each got very distinct personality. Melissa is quite the chatterbox. She's open and funny and kind of a show off. Her dark curls frame her sweet, cherubic face just perfectly. Her hazel eyes are always light and sunny and she smiles a lot. She loves her "little sister", adores her mommy and worships her daddy... okay, maybe worship is too strong a word, but she does tolerate me and allows me to bathe her and change her and brush her hair without too much hollering. That's something, right? Samantha is quiet, reflective, full of wonder for the world. It's a glorious thing, seeing something through the eyes of your child. And boy is this kid smart. Like I said, just like her mommy. She looks just like Scully, too. I've seen baby pictures of my wife and they are the spitting image of our baby - although Scully hates that analogy and assures me she does not spit. Her red hair is wavy and her big, blue eyes are inquisitive, while at the same time, all knowing. Again, just like Scully. And she's definitely a mama's girl. Where as "Missy"- as we call her- loves to hang out with me and go everywhere I go, whether it's to the store, the back yard, or even just the other side of the kitchen, "Sam" likes sticking close to Scully and crawling up on the woman's lap, snuggling in tight. (I joked once that Scully has her own "Mini-Me". She wasn't as amused as I was by the observation though.) She likes Scully to sing to her. Poor kid. Terrible taste in music! No, I'm just kidding, really! Scully may not be able to carry a tune, but to me and the girls, she has the voice of an angel. We continue to fight the good fight, gathering information and networking, trying to get different people together. The old saying is that there is safety in numbers. I'm not sure how effective that would be against an alien invasion, but every little bit helps and we're doing all we can every day to stop this disaster. Our family and friends have braved up enough to come visit once in awhile. We met- in a secret location- Dana's mom and her brothers and their families last month- secretly, of course. They got to meet our girls and of course, fell immediately in love with them. Everyone had so much fun. The only hard part is when they have to leave. I know it's probably hardest on Scully and her mom. I wish I could change the way we have to live, but I for now I know that's not possible. I am working on it, I promise Scully. And, God love her, she always nods and replies that she knows and appreciates me and all that I do. It's times like these that I think that I'm the luckiest man alive. At night, once the girls are in bed asleep Scully often demonstrates her appreciation of me physically. That's when I know I'm the luckiest man alive. Skinner, Doggett and Reyes have come to see us a couple of times, as well. I really enjoyed seeing them, too. Even Doggett! And Reyes, once I got to know her a little better, I found to be a really nice person. She and Scully have become extremely close. They are like two sisters, and in fact, kind of remind me of grown up versions of our twins. Skinner surprised us by falling very easily into the role of "Uncle Wally". The girls adore him, and he's very affectionate and protective of them. There are few people, excluding Scully and myself, that I would trust more than he with the care of my babies. And as for Doggett and me? Well, I'm not going to say that we're the best of friends, but we have found a few things that even we can bond over. Yep, you guessed it: video games, poker and sports! Grunt! Grunt! Let's hear it for us guys! While child rearing and alien invasion evasion (cool, huh? I made that up myself) takes up a lot of our time, Scully and I aren't without our own little "mini" adventures. Usually when a close friend or relative is visiting, after going over old news paper articles in the library or reading the local news on the Internet, I will occasionally find something that interests me, and off we go, my partner and I, to do a little monster hunting, or mutant trapping, or demon busting... God, it feels like old times then. Back when we were so young and I was still so confident and full of myself. Back when Scully was just a wide- eyed, green agent fresh out of the Academy and our lives first crossed paths. I had wanted so much to hate her. I found that I couldn't. I did not want to trust her. I found that I had to. I never desired to fall in love with her, but I fell so hard it's inconceivable to feel otherwise. So much has happened since that time. So much tragedy, so much grief and pain and lives being turned upside down and destroyed. But there has also been so much good happening too. There are friendships and memories. There are my three beautiful children. And that's when I realize none of this would have been possible without my Scully. She is a link to my past, the chain of my present and the armor of my future. Without her, I have no doubt in my mind that I never would have made it through all those years on the X-Files. I would have gotten myself killed at some point. Scully is my salvation. I think I'm beginning to understand Byers cryptic message about Scully and I. Not only are we partners, best friends, lovers, spouses, parents, and soul mates, it is true that we are the chosen ones. We're going to save the world someday. Any time after December 22nd, 2012, when you inhale a breath of fresh air, it will be because of us. Every time you go to the grocery store for a pint of ice cream or enjoy a vacation at Disneyland, it will be possible because of Scully's and my efforts. I can't guarantee that all will be well for us in the aftermath of this battle. I will ensure the safety of our three children, and I will hope and pray that Scully and I be returned to them, but I know that if it comes down to sacrificing our mortal lives for the sake of humankind, then we will both gladly do so. I've faced death before. Hell, I've been dead before. I don't fear the unknown, the great beyond. I know that, no matter what happens in the next few years or so, Scully and I will prevail, and alive or dead in the wake of our struggles, we will still remain together. It's like that old saying, united we stand, divided we fall. Well, there's no worry about the fall. It'll never come because Scully and I will never divide. EVER! Jeez, I guess I've brought you up to date about what's been going on with our lives. I really should go. I've got to help feed the girls, then Langly promised me a game of "Star Wars: Legos". (Don't ask, but I have to admit, I'm hooked!) Frohike wants me to ask Scully for a s?ance so he can "commune" with her. I told him if she didn't want to "commune" with him in life, what makes him think she'd want to talk to him as a dead guy? I felt an invisible smack against the back of my head for that crack. Ah, who cares, it was worth it! Scully does get some feeling for Byers- ha ha, 'Hike!- and they'll play an occasional game of Chess. Well, she plays against the computer, but Byers manipulates the computer, and sometimes, if he concentrates hard enough, he sends her little messages on the screen. It's kind of cute, actually. Most people have cats or dogs to keep them company. The Mulders, we have our ghosts- oh, spirits, I mean spirits. Anyway, now that all is said and done, I'm going to take my beautiful wife into my arms, carry her down the hall to our bedroom and we're going to hump like bunnies all night. Nice analogy, huh! But that's me, Scully's romantic, little pervert! Later!