It was during COVID time that I started writing X-Files fan fic for the first time. My first story was about Jackson, whom I was feeling really iffy and sorta did not like. I was grateful to have received positive feedback that fueled me to keep writing and posting a short work every day.
I wrote over 600 stories.
Fast forward to 2024, I thought to compile them all and make an e-book for B, who is the only person I know irl that is also crazy about the X-Files. The X-Files had helped both of us through some tough growing pains and family drama.
It wasn't until 2025 when I started putting them in order. I thought to share them on AO3, a way to show my gratitude to the countless fanfic writers who had brought me joy and good tears.
And now there are five of them.
Universal Gate is the AU collection.
Kokoro houses the story from "Pilot" to unremarkable house.
Karma Reservoir picks up a little before Revival and goes into the future, with Jackson coming home and S11 baby (it's a girl!).
Curveballs is a little universe where Mulder and Scully get to raise two boys.
Mirare, my Emily AU.
I have learned so, so much from reading XF fanfic. Being able to share my writing with my fandom of 29 years just simply floods me.
My gratitude to everyone for the comments, reblogs, kudos, likes, hearts, etc. You all have been great.
“Hey Mulster!” Frohike says happily into the phone, “Did you get the package? We want photos, lots of them.”
“Yeah, we just got in, so we hadn’t opened it. Thanks, Buddy, Scully and the kids are very excited.”
“Aren’t you excited?” Frohke presses on.
“Sure, I just never thought I’d have to do this all over again for Wiley.”
“You did it for Emily all those years.” Mulder’s friend reminds him.
“God, you sound just like Scully.”
“What can I say? Great minds think alike.” Frohike’s smile permeates through the phone line.
“Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Buddy.”
Mulder considers his friend’s words for a long second. Frohike’s right; he has done this for Emily until she turned eight and requested to go trick-or-treating with her friends instead. He chaperoned his daughter and her little friends around the blocks, and felt proud that people trusted him with their children. What Mulder doesn’t know is that his overprotectiveness is legendary within the circle of parents in Emily’s elementary school.
Not many fathers volunteer to be chaperones for school field trips. Then again, not many fathers are like Fox Mulder.
He recalls the years he went with Emily and they wore matching costumes. There’s one year she was a princess and he wore a silly, fluffy-sleeved shirt with a toy sword. Was he a knight or a prince? Mulder still isn’t sure.
One year he was the puppeteer and Emily was the puppet. When Emily was four—their first Halloween together—she went as a parrot to his pirate. Oh, how Scully laughed and laughed and laughed at the sight. Mulder didn’t even complain when the eye patch he wore left a black ring around his eye and Scully had to scrub his face with a damp towel for an hour that night.
It was fun, Mulder admits. But now that his son is 4—the same age Mulder started going trick-or-treating with Emily—he has to be coaxed into dressing up again.
Mulder likes dressing in his t-shirt, jeans, and leather jacket, playing it cool and nodding at whoever opens the door to see him and five or six little ones screaming trick-o-treat! at the top of their lungs.
“Mulder?” Scully’s voice brings him back to the present. “Honey, do you want to open the package?”
He gives her a leering smile, and she returns an equally suggestive grin. She’s got the scissors ready, and the parcel from the Gunmen is waiting for him on the coffee table.
Mulder rips into the cardboard box without the scissors and takes out a pair of futuristic-looking sunglasses. The note that comes with it says: We know you’re doing costumes again with the family. Just thought this would come in handy. X-Men anyone? -L.G.
He scoffs lightly and looks at the pair of sunglasses. “Guess the Boys want us to go as X-Men for Halloween this year.”
“I can be Jean Grey for you, Mulder, all you need to do is ask.” Scully receives his kisses with a chuckle. “Emily can go as Storm or Rogue, or whoever she feels like being this year. Wiley will be so excited that Daddy is dressing up too.”
“Oh yeah, and Uncle Walter can be Professor X.” Mulder runs his fingers through his hair. “I’d go as Professor X but my hair is too beautiful to be messed with.”
“I wanna see you in those glasses, Mulder.” Scully urges. Mulder feels like she knows something he doesn’t, but he complies anyway.
He puts the glasses on. “Frohike wants me to be Cyclops, but I’ve always identified more with Wolverine.” He turns around to look at her, and turns his head to scan the rest of the living room.
Scully watches him take off his glasses and put them on, and take them off again. He turns to face her.
“Do you know what these are?” Mulder asks her while stroking her hair with his fingers. “Wow.”
“I have an idea or two.” She smiles. “Though I love you exactly the way you are.”
They sit quietly for a long while, with Mulder gazing at his partner and wife of many years. He takes off the special eyewear and places it on the coffee table. Scully leans forward to touch his cheek; maybe she should have known that Mulder would prefer things the way he’s known them for all his life.
“Mulder,” she says, and he looks at her somewhat sadly.
“It’s so… Your hair… It’s like…looking at the sun, I can’t look directly at it….” He moves to kiss her on the lips and pulls away again. Grabbing the eyeglasses, he puts them on and studies her face, this face he’s known and loved for years. He pulls the glasses lower, his eyes shifting up and down between the lenses, comparing the two worlds.
“I…I…” That’s all he manages to say.
Scully simply pulls the spectacles off his face, and, with a smile, she gathers him into her arms. “We’ll just get some regular, cool sunglasses if you want to be Cyclops, or…Wolverine is a good choice too.” She kisses his forehead and feels such tenderness toward this man. Scully rocks him slightly as if he were one of her children.
“Which one do you want?” She asks him after a few moments.
“You, Dana Scully. All I want is you.” Mulder snuggles closer to her, and Scully wants to see what Mulder sees when he looks at her.
52.
Emily hears them using this term to refer to her baby cousin before lunch. What a bundle of joy. Our darling little bundle of joy.
“Was I a bundle of joy, Mulder?” She asks, her big blue eyes full of curiosity.
Mulder looks at his daughter and smiles. He’s promised himself that he will never lie to her.
“…I wouldn’t put it in those terms.”
Suddenly the mint chocolate chip ice cream doesn’t taste so sweet anymore. Emily continues to lick the green icy treat and looks at the picnic table from their bench.
“So… I was a difficult baby?” She concludes with a frown, and Mulder chuckles.
“Foxi,” Mulder uses the nickname that only he has the privilege of using in this world, a nickname that came from her childhood wish to be him—not to be just like him but to be him. His childhood heroes were the likes of astronauts, yet his daughter’s hero was him—not her mommy, but him, Spooky Mulder.
Oh, how proud he was that day.
“You were not a bundle. You were three years old. You came to us able to speak your mind and you had your preferences. You wanted red, not pink; you wanted mashed potato, not pizza. I didn’t get to brag to my friends about your first word; we have no idea if you could wave bye-bye at one. You knew things like Pom Pom Purin which your mother and I had no idea about.”
Emily smiles at the mention of her favorite Sanrio character. She can’t recall why she would know that, either.
“Pom Pom Purin’s still my favorite.”
“You were much bigger than a bundle when I held you in my arms for the first time. Of course I was experiencing joy, but I also felt panic, and worry, and…a lot of things. In my mind I was calculating the things I was willing to sacrifice to ensure that your mother would have you in her life.”
“Like what?”
“Hum…” Mulder frowns slightly, debating how much he should say. “Pretty much everything, including myself. That’s how much I wanted your mother to keep you. I would have done everything so that she’d get to raise you and, well, be your mother.”
“Why didn’t you and Mom have more kids besides me and Yoty?” Emily gestures to her brother at the picnic table, whom she affectionately calls Yoty, as in William the Wiley Coyote.
“Well, because every time we asked if you wanted a baby brother or a dog, you wanted the dog. Except when you were six, so we had Wiley.” Mulder declares with a serious expression, and Emily can’t be sure if her father is joking.
“Is that why we have so many dogs? Every time we got a new dog was because you and Mom wanted to have a baby?” She sounds horrified.
Mulder recalls the first time he learned about human reproduction in health class and how he wished he was created in a lab instead of in his parents’ bedroom. He’s not sure if his daughter feels the same way. She should, though; all teenagers probably do.
“Foxi, do you remember when Mommy and I got married?”
She tilts her head to the left, and her eyes blink several times. “A little.”
“So you know Mom and I didn’t do things in the order that people usually do. I’ll let you in on a secret.” Mulder purposely lowers his voice. “Your mom and I didn’t even kiss before we took you home.”
“You liar!” Emily laughs with disbelief. “You two kiss all the time!”
“Yeah, but not before.” Mulder explains, “Sure, a peck on her cheek, a kiss on her forehead or her hand—we did that. But that was it.”
The girl stares at her father. She looks like she has a million things to say, but when she opens her mouth, nothing comes out. Emily thinks she doesn’t know anyone else more in love than her parents, and she feels like she’s received two bombshells today: one being that her parents would have had more children if not for her, and the second being that her parents had never kissed before she was three.
“We…held hands. It was a big deal for us, that we held hands.”
Emily snickers. “What’s so special about holding hands? I’ve held hands with people, and I don’t feel anything special about it.”
Mulder shakes his head, pretending to patronize her, “It’s not what you do, but who. Your mother’s hands are magical. They brought me comfort and courage, assurance and love. They still do. I love holding her hand.”
Emily has finished her ice cream, and she clasps her hands together. She watches her father pop the last piece of his waffle cone into his mouth.
“I’m not your Uncle Bill, so I don’t stress that teenage boys only have one thing on their minds. I think we’re different breeds, he and I,” Mulder squints at the picnic table, where Bill is now cutting a watermelon in his Captain Cook apron. “I’m sure he gave you that speech already.”
“Four times this trip.” Emily rolls her eyes. “Poor Mattie. I wonder what's his version?”
“But you know, I do believe in waiting for the right person.” Mulder points at the woman he loves, who’s chatting while reapplying sunblock on Wiley’s arms, “and mine is right over there. She was worth waiting.”
He stands up and extends his arm to pull his daughter up to her feet. “Let’s join the party. We don’t want to be Daddy Wallflower and Baby Wallflower.”
Emily holds onto her father’s hand. “Mulder,” she calls, “I think it’s our turn to make dinner tonight.”
“Yes, I can’t wait to debut my Captain Crunch apron.”
Back at the picnic table, Dana grins and waves as her two foxes walk hand-in-hand towards her.
53.
Mulder pads into the bedroom in his cushiony slippers, the remaining pair that hasn’t been confiscated by their family dogs, and free falls onto their bed.
“Wiley’s out like a light.” He murmurs, “I swear, I’ve never seen a 4-year-old who’s not afraid of the dark, not afraid of the Boogeyman, doesn’t think there can be monsters in the closet… I missed how when Emily was small and she always tried to find the best excuse to sleep in our bed with us. I thought my boy was gonna be the same.”
Scully squirts some lotion onto her hands and gestures for her husband to come near. She starts with his knees and Mulder becomes a puddle of melted mess on top of the comforter.
“Yeah, remember last year when the power was out, so all four of us slept on this bed?” She reminds him, “And didn’t you complain like an old man about how the storm messed up your plans that night?”
“Yes, but if I didn’t complain…” He leers, and she smears lotion onto the tip of his nose. “It was nice. And now my little girl is in the fifth grade, and my son’s too cool for his age. I should’ve known that’s what I’d get with uber-Scullys.”
“Uber-Scullys.” She echoes with a grin.
“So,” he begins, “gonna tell me why our little girl was upset? Did she get a bad grade or something?”
“This will tickle you, Mulder.” Scully moves on to his other leg with another dollop of body lotion in hand. “She wrote a play for class, but the teacher suggested some changes. The little playwright refused, the class ended up taking a vote, and majority rules. Emmi was so angry that she cried on the way home.”
“Oh no!” Mulder frowns. “Did she tell you what was changed? Maybe I can talk to her about it.”
“I’m not entirely sure you should, Papa.” Scully pays extra attention to Mulder’s dry ankle. “The class wanted a fairy tale with the typical elements of a wizard and a princess and a knight. But instead of ending the story where the narrator says the knight and the princess lived happily ever after, Emily has the narrator say the two best friends lived happily ever after.”
Mulder’s face breaks into a huge grin.
“Yeah, so while all the little girls cried about the princess not being married to the knight, all the boys complained about the knight being best friends with a girl.”
Mulder shakes his head in disbelief.
“And you know what Emily said to me in the car? She said, I’d rather marry my best friend like you did.”
Mulder’s eyes shine with pride. “She said that?”
“Yep. She thinks we’re best friends.” Scully nods with a serious expression on her face. “Wonder what gave her that idea?”
With the speed of light, Mulder grabs his wife and hauls her into his lap. “Scully,” he declares, “our daughter’s right, you know; you are my best friend.”
She pushes him down on the bed and jibs him in the stomach, and they both laugh like a couple of eight-year-old best friends.
Two best friends living happily ever after; this is how all fairy tales should end.
——-
Thank you for reading! Tagging @today-in-fic & @mulderscreek
The child looks both worried and excited. “How’re we gonna keep Mulder from finding out?”
“We’ll have to make sure he doesn’t find out.” Scully says with a straight face as she strolls down the supermarket aisle with her daughter. “How long will it take?”
“When we did it in class yesterday, it only took an hour, plus refrigerator time.” Emily answers.
“That means we’ll have to keep Mulder out of the kitchen and the refrigerator.” Scully feigns a frown. “Not gonna be easy; maybe we’ll need to get some help.”
“Do you think Uncle Melvie will help?” Emily asks while standing on the shopping cart, doing something Scully forbids her to do but Mulder encourages her to do.
“We’ll have to ask him.” Scully knows Frohike won’t say no to her or her daughter, but she cannot let Emily know that yet. “What else do we need to get, baby?”
Emily hops off the cart to get her picture shopping list out of her pocket. She looks at the sheet and counts off the items they need to make chocolate.
“Chocolate chips, Mommy, we need chocolate chips.”
“So, tell me again why we’re making chocolate instead of buying chocolate?” Scully asks. She’s actually heard Emily explain this four times already, but the child looks so animated when she does it every time. Sometimes Scully wishes to have Mulder’s photographic memory too.
“Ms. Natsume says that, in Japan, girls make and give chocolate to the boys they like. When we make chocolate, it comes from the heart.”
They are now standing in front of baking supplies, and Scully watches as Emily tosses bag after bag of chocolate chips into their cart.
“Baby, why do we need so many bags of chocolate chips?” Scully quickly calculates the cost and realizes the chocolate chips alone will exceed their cereal bill for a month. “How many boys do you like, Emily?”
“Just one.” She says shyly.
“Then why do we need so much chocolate? May I see your recipe, please?”
The child hands Scully the printout, which details all the steps of making chocolate. “Emily, the chocolate chips in the cart are enough to make four batches of these!” Scully tries to explain to her daughter.
“No, Mommy, we need this many.” The child says firmly. “I’m going to make one for Mulder, and you’re going to make one for Mulder.”
Scully nods, and Emily goes on explaining, “And on March 14th, Ms. Natsume says it’s White Valentine’s day; that’s when boys give chocolate to girls, so Mulder will need to make two batches, one for you and one for me.”
“Aren’t you thoughtful.” Scully says while trying to think if there is any way out of having this many chocolate chips in her pantry. “Shouldn’t we ask if Mulder wants to give us chocolates?”
“Mommy, you’re so silly.” Emily states with an expression that says she has a secret. The child cannot keep a secret to save her life, that’s for sure. “Mulder’s already gotten chocolates for you and me and—”
The child suddenly realizes she’s said too much, and covers her mouth with both her hands.
“Mulder’s already gotten us chocolates?”
Emily looks concerned. “Yes, but it was supposed to be a secret.”
“Maybe we need to think about not making so much chocolate then,” Scully tries to convince her daughter. “If we still have Valentine’s chocolate, then we can’t get any Easter chocolate. No chocolate rabbits and no crème eggs, and you and Mulder will be very disappointed. He loves those crème eggs.”
“But how will Mulder know that we like him if we don’t give him chocolate?”
Scully starts moving the bag of chocolate chips back onto the shelves. “Emily, we’ll both make him a batch of chocolate together, so he’ll know. Is that okay?”
“But…” The child is still concerned. “How will Mulder be able to tell us that he likes us too?”
“Well, didn’t he already get us chocolate for Valentine’s Day?” Scully reasons.
“Yes, and spoons, and a dr—” The child catches herself again before slipping out more secrets. She presses her lips together so tight that they completely disappear.
Scully feels like teasing her little girl. “Emily?”
“Mommy,” The child covers her mouth with both hands, her voice muffled: “I can’t talk to you anymore until Valentine’s Day.”
“How’re you going to teach me how to make chocolate for Mulder?”
“Mommy!” The child whines, clearly flustered.
“Okay, baby, I won’t ask you anymore.” Scully pats the child on her back to comfort her. “Is the dress pretty?”
“Yes, it’s blue and soft and it has—” Emily’s mouth hangs open as she realizes again that she’s given out another detail to Mulder’s secret.
“Mommy!!”
50.
She ought to kill Charlie for this.
It doesn’t matter that he’s her little brother, his favorite brother, because Charlie Scully knows his niece so well, knows his big sister so well, and somehow he seems to come to know Mulder so well after spending two weekends and a birthday party with him, that he knows his evil plan would work.
Damn Charlie.
And damn Mulder, too. For eating up Charlie’s suggestion like her mother’s blueberry pie.
Charlie’s gift arrived on Saturday. Saturday morning, when she’s still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, when Mulder’s still snoozing in his birthday suit, when Emily hasn’t even gotten up for her weekend cartoons and Apple Cinnamon Cheerios, when Wiley hasn’t started his day as a baby koala. Two delivery men knock on her door, setting off a concert of their dogs, and use a forklift to bring in her parcel while trying their best not to laugh, with her still dressed in her white fluffy bathrobe and furry slippers, wanting to scream Charlie Scully so loud that he could hear her all the way in Illinois.
With the gift in her living room—where the delivery men had left it—Scully perches her behind on the edge of it as she reads her little brother’s chicken scratch handwriting.
Dearest Dana,
Thought of you and yours on my way passing Minooka; it’s the home of the largest you-know-what in Illnois. Hopefully Little Em’s ready for some fun at this years’ C-K AutumnFest, which I plan to take her to when I visit for Thanksgiving.
I’m sure Mulder can be the fairy godmother before this real fairy comes to town.
P.S. Don’t worry, I know Mulder’s only got eyes for ya.
Love,
Charlie
He didn’t even gift-wrap it.
Charlie has sent them a freaking giant pumpkin.
==
It takes Mulder an incredibly short time to jump on board with Charlie’s silly idea. Well, Scully’s not sure how much of this is Charlie and how much of it is Mulder, and to be honest, she’s taken nearly one whole roll of film on Mulder digging out the insides of the giant pumpkin with a saucepan.
The roasted pumpkin seeds aren’t bad, either.
But what Scully does not anticipate is Emily insisting on the pumpkin being her treehouse and refusing to leave once she crawls inside. Whereas Wiley is so scared of the giant pumpkin that he refuses to even stand next to it for a picture.
Her daughter has taken two meals and a snack sitting inside the pumpkin, while Scully worries about fruit flies and bad smells, Mulder seems to find nothing wrong with the arrangement.
“Emily, sweetie,” Scully bends down to speak to her child, who’s contentedly reading her favorite books inside her new pumpkin house. “Uncle Charlie wanted this to be a carriage for you. It wasn’t meant to be a house, you know.”
“But I’m not Cinderella.” The child replies. “I don’t have an evil stepmother. I don’t have evil stepsisters. I don’t want glass slippers, and I don’t want to marry Prince Charming.”
Well, the child’s logic works, Scully thinks. Maybe she needs to call Charlie, but something in her gut tells her that this might be exactly what Charlie had in mind when he sent his sister and her doofus of a husband a 700-pound giant pumpkin.
Maybe she should try to get the doofus husband’s help on extracting their child out of it. After all, he was the one who carved windows on the pumpkin; it almost took his thumb off.
==
“Baby Banana,” Mulder sticks his head and a quarter of his upper body inside the hollowed-out pumpkin. “Do you wanna come out for supper?”
“I’d like to take my supper in here, Mulder.”
Mulder lifts himself out from the pumpkin and meets Scully’s frown. Without another word, he dives in again.
“Foxi,”
“Yes, Mulder?”
“You have to come out.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
“Because why, Mulder?”
Scully isn’t sure if she wants to listen to this. She crawls onto an armchair and wonders why she has Charlie Scully as a little brother. Sometimes she misses the day when Charlie was traveling the world, being the free spirit he was, while missing out on all the family… fun.
She quickly reprimands herself for having such a thought. She is glad to have Charlie back in her life, and he’s gotten along so well with Mulder.
Mulder.
Scully lets her focus drift back to the giant pumpkin and the love of her life with his legs sticking out, which are slowly and slowly disappearing inside the pumpkin.
Somehow Mulder has managed to crawl into the pumpkin, too. Scully quickly gets up and walks toward the giant vegetable.
“Honey, I think this is a great place.” She hears Mulder say. “But it can’t fit all three of us. And Wiley’s not even coming downstairs now.”
“So now it fits both me and you, but what about Mommy? And Wiley? And It and Elfie and Pompom?”
The pumpkin makes his voice echoy and funny.
“Do you want some time by yourself, Emily? Is that why you decided to live in the pumpkin house?”
A moment of silence goes by before Emily answers, “Yes.”
“Why?”
“So you and Mommy can have some time together, without me.”
Hearing Mulder’s chuckle, Scully feels heat growing on her cheeks.
“Whoever gave you that idea?”
“I just think it’ll be nice, because all mommies and daddies need time to themselves.”
“That’s mighty thoughtful of you, Emily.”
Scully wonders if it’s impolite to crawl inside the pumpkin now. She would like to put her arms around her little girl.
“Tell you what. I’ll call Grandma and see if she wants some company for a few days, and maybe we’ll ask Uncle Charlie and see if he can move his visit up a little, so you can spend some time with them and I get to spend some mommy and daddy time with Mommy? But you’ll have to come out from this pumpkin house and you’ll have to listen to Mommy and me when we ask you to do something.”
“Mmmmm.”
“Do we have a deal?”
“Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes, Mulder.”
“Good girl. Now let’s get outta here before we both start to smell like a big ol’ pumpkin.”
Scully takes this as her cue to poke her head into the pumpkin and helps her giggling child crawl out from the vegetable.
==
Dear Charlie,
Will Fairy Godmother Charlie consider moving up his visit? Princess Emily can’t wait to visit the C-K AutumnFest with you.
Love,
Dana
Charlie cannot stop laughing as he looks at the photographs of his brother-in-law and niece with their heads poking out from a giant pumpkin. It’s the best 900 dollars spent, ever.
-----
thanks for reading. tagging @today-in-fic & @mulderscreek, thanks.
Emily has been carrying that little plastic rabbit with her ever since she got it as a welcoming gift from the new grocer around the block. One Rabbit with Any Purchase, says the banner that is still hanging off the roof; Scully feels relieved to know that the grocer had meant a toy rabbit, not…an actual rabbit.
A toy rabbit for Emily beats getting an actual rabbit any day. Emily’s face cracks into a huge grin the moment her mother presents the little trinket to her. Scully just has no idea her little girl would like it so much.
It doesn’t matter that she has a trunk full of toys, made with all different materials, in all the colors of the rainbow and then some, some expensive and handmade, and all given to her with love—Emily loves the little plastic rabbit.
“I don’t think you should bring it to school,” Scully says sensibly. Mulder doesn’t understand how she can remain so calm, as this is the third time they've had this conversation.
“I won’t take it out during class.”
Emily whines, which surprisingly sounds like him, Mulder thinks.
“The school says students cannot bring their toy to school, Emmi,” Scully reasons.
“I won’t take it out of my pocket at all at school.” Emily says diplomatically.
“If that’s the case, why are you bringing it to school at all?” Mulder chimes in.
“This is my Mulder.” Emily takes out the pink-colored rabbit wearing a little yellow vest from her pocket. “Mommy, you take Mulder everywhere you go.”
Scully remains unfazed at the accusation. “I do not bring Mulder with me everywhere I go.”
“So you mean Mulder takes you everywhere he goes?”
Those big eyes dart toward Mulder’s direction.
Mulder looks at Scully, waiting to hear her reply, too.
“No, pumpkin, Mulder does not take me everywhere he goes.”
“But he’s always with you, why can’t Bunny Mulder always be with me?” Emily urges. “I’ll protect him and make sure he’s safe. I can only do that if I take him with me everywhere I go. Even to school. I promise I won’t take him out at school, and never during class. I gotta protect him real well.”
When neither of the grown-ups says anything, Emily presses on: “Isn’t that why Mulder is always with you, to protect you and keep you safe? And you can do the same for him?”
Scully looks at Mulder; her expression invites him to jump in and help.
“Well, Foxi, what are you going to do when you don’t have a pocket to put, um, Bunny Mulder in?”
Scully rolls her eyes at the downturn this conversation has taken.
“I’ll always wear something with pockets.” Emily answers as if it is the most obvious response.
“What if you have a hole in your pocket and Bunny Mulder just slips out?” Mulder inquires with a straight face, and Scully feels like she’s listening to Emily talking to her friend Gordie, who’s seven years old.
“I don’t get holes in my pocket. All my clothes are new.” Emily promises, “I will pay extra, extra, extra attention and be extra, extra, extra careful about making sure Bunny Mulder is safe.”
Mulder glances back at Scully; he’s convinced and has sided with the girl.
With a tiny sigh, Scully tries again. “But Emily, rules are rules. What if your friends find out that you brought Bunny Mulder to school and they want to play with him too?”
Emily looks oddly offended at such a notion. “No way, I can’t risk letting anyone see Bunny Mulder and take him away from me. He’s mine. I don’t plan to share him with anyone.”
Mulder bursts out laughing, and Scully chuckles, too. “This one takes entirely after you, Fox Mulder.”
47.
It isn’t every day that she gets to take her daughter to work, Scully thinks while she and Emily stroll from the parking garage to the basement office. Emily is used to the security checks and has stayed calm in the morning rush of agents getting to their offices, but Scully notices that her daughter is holding on to her hand a little tighter than usual.
Scully knows her daughter is nervous, but Emily’s been coming to her workplace since she was 3 and a half, so she doesn’t understand why her child is fidgeting so much this morning.
“Sweetie,” she looks down and casually asks Emily, “you okay?”
The little girl pauses for a moment before answering. “Yes, Mommy.”
“You look worried.” Scully states the obvious. “How come? You were just here last week with Daddy.”
“Yes, but today is different. This time I’m expected to work.” Emily explains earnestly. “What if I get in the way of you and Daddy while you two chase a bad guy? What if you get called in to do an autopsy?”
Scully reassures Emily that Take Your Daughters and Sons to Work Day doesn’t mean the children are expected to do their parent’s job. They will just observe how Mommy and Daddy and their co-workers work.
The elevator dings behind them; Scully turns and sees a familiar face.
“Good Morning, Agent Scully.” Kimberly greets the pair, “Emily! Hello!”
Skinner’s assistant gives Emily a quick hug. “So, are the rumors true this year?” Kimberly asks.
“Which ones? That Agent Tsai will be taking his 7 kids into his office and driving everyone crazy? I look forward to them singing and playing the electronic keyboard in the break room this year.”
Mulder and Scully did not participate in this event last year since she was on maternity leave. After all, this is only the second time that the Bureau is encouraging its employees to bring their children into the workplace. There are certainly many colorful tales from the previous year that are alive and spreading this year.
“Oh no, Agent Scully,” Kimberly laughs, “the rumor that you and Agent Mulder—”
“Good morning, Kimberly!” Mulder steps out of his office. “Say hi, Wiley.”
The baby babbles and gives a wave.
“Ah, so it is.” Kimberly mutters under her breath. “Good morning, Agent Mulder. I’m here to remind you about the short meeting at the AD’s office at 10. I’ll report back to him to expect only one of you today.”
“Thanks, Kimberly.” Scully replies and watches the assistant hurry into the elevator.
She looks at Mulder with their son strapped in front of his chest. She knows that coming into the building separately was a good idea. They have always been low-key about their personal lives, but Mulder insists on participating in the event as a family this year—God knows why.
She ushers Emily into the office and points to her daughter while whispering to her husband, nervous.
Mulder frowns slightly and touches the little girl on her shoulders.
“Fox Puff,” Mulder uses the nickname only he has the privilege to use in the universe. “I have a whole list of things for you to help me with today.”
“Okay, Mulder.” The child tugs on her red jumper and glances around the room. As if on cue, a smiling face appears by the door.
“As I live and breathe! Little Spooky and Tiny Spooky are in the office with Ma and Pa Spooky! Smile, folks!”
Several very bright flashes come with shuttering sounds.
“I was so glad when I walked into the lobby and someone told me to come take snapshots of you four. What an adorable family!”
Another round of flashes and sounds appears, and Scully still looks shocked. “You should expect me showing up here and there and everywhere today. It beats the hell out of taking crime scene photos. Oops, sorry about the h-e-double hockey sticks.”
“Thanks, Agent Reno.” Mulder gracefully smiles at the older gentleman. “We’ll be around. All day.”
Scully stares at her husband. Who is he, and what has he done with Mulder?
The morning goes by in a flash. Actually, too many flashes as Agent Reno reappears 5 times before 11am. Scully watches a very happy Mulder taking an equally enthusiastic Emily into the break room for donuts and bear claws. Scully shakes her head as Mulder tries to explain to Emily his logic of filing. She is sorry to miss the happenings at the office while attending the meeting with Skinner, and returns to the office with a very jolly Uncle Walter, who borrows William, baby-strapper and all, for a brisk walk.
Mulder pleads to have takeout for lunch and goes to fetch it, leaving her sitting in one of the big chairs with her daughter and her baby boy in her lap. Emily is looking at the walls of the office, her expression serious, almost sullen.
“Mulder says we’ll reorganize the clippings in the afternoon.” Emily tells her mother. “I don’t think we’ll finish it.”
Scully can’t recall if she was this serious about work when she was Emily’s age. With a father in the Navy and a homemaker mother, she’s never participated in the Take Your Daughter to Work Day. Back then, sons were not included in this activity—but Scully doubts that Bill Mulder would have taken Little Fox to work anyway.
Sometimes, she wishes that Emily would be more like Mulder and William would be more like her. A boy can benefit from her no-nonsense approach in life.
“Food’s here,” Mulder announces with a push of the door, and Scully moves to help him unload the bags. Of course, he orders way too much again. She takes out the containers of soups and sandwiches Mulder has procured. “And I got a little present for us all.”
“A present?” Emily asks, her eyes shining.
“After lunch.” He adds.
“Pleeeease, Mulder?”
Mulder is too excited to wait, anyway, so he draws out a white paper sack. Opening the bag in slow motion, Scully acknowledges the matching glee in their eyes.
“Sunglasses!” Emily quips.
“Yep,” Mulder says proudly, “one for you, one for me, one for Mommy, and a baby pair for Wiley Coyote. Here, you wanna help him wear it?”
Mulder hands Emily the smallest pair and she takes it. Very carefully, Emily walks near her mother and places the sunglasses on the baby’s tiny face. The baby laughs and tries to grab it.
“I figured Reno will come down a few more times before the day is over, and I want us to look cool.” He points at his little girl and declares proudly, “See, she rocks it.”
By 4:30, Mulder’s antsy to go home. Together, they have rearranged the filing cabinets, reorganized Mulder’s idea board (where he answers keep to nearly every clipping and photo), and Scully watches with both concern and amusement as her eight-year-old sits on Mulder’s shoulders, going around the office, pulling down every pencil that is stuck in the ceiling.
She wishes Reno were here to snap a photo of that.
When it’s time to go home, Mulder takes Emily’s hand with his left, grasps Scully’s in his right, and struts into the lobby with a one-year-old strapped to his chest as if they were heading to the beach. And as much as it is silly, they’re all donning the sunglasses. Unlike her morning timidness, Emily skips alongside Mulder, and Scully nods her farewells as Mulder bids his goodbyes to their fellow agents, which is followed by a friendly echo from their daughter.
“The Spookys have left the building,” Mulder whispers into Scully’s ear, and she bursts out in laughter.
48.
Scully listens to the sounds coming from the family room as she turns off the lights in the kitchen.
“Can I do it?” One child asks.
“No, I want to do it,” another child urges.
“You did the last one.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“I’m gonna tell Grandma!” Oh no, someone sounds like he’s about to cry.
“She’s my grandma too! She’s all our grandmas. Here.”
Scully hears her daughter’s words and laughs. She recalls saying to Bill and Charlie many decades ago that Mommy’s all our mommies. She feels proud that her little girl—who’s the big sister now—is trying to keep peace like she was when she was young.
Scully walks toward the family room to take a peek, and the smile on her face grows wider. Mulder is standing next to the Christmas tree, with their son Wiley hanging off his right arm, their daughter Emily holding onto his right leg, Bill’s son Matthew on his left leg, and Matthew’s little brother Gordon on his back…
“I thought you guys were putting the new ornaments on the Christmas tree?” Scully tries to keep a straight face.
“Mommy!” Emily greets, “It’s a Mulder treeeeee!”
This is when Scully notices that Mulder’s wearing a wreath like a crown and an ornament on each ear.
‘What are you guys doing?”
“We’re decorating a Mulder Tree!” Matthew answers; he’s big for a 5-year-old.
“Hey! It’s Uncle Mulder for you, Matthew!” Emily corrects her cousin immediately.
“Yes, an Uncle Mulder tree!” Matthew wraps his arms and legs tightly on Mulder’s leg. “Take our picture, Aunt Dana!”
Mulder mouths the word no and Scully shakes her head. Mulder, the King of Kids.
Mulder walks toward her with all four children holding on to him. He bulks up his shoulders and walks like King Kong. Scully decides to meet him halfway.
“Hey, darling,” he mutters when he’s standing next to her. “It’s the Mulder Train; room for one more.”
“Ewwwwww!” Both Emily and Matthew giggle after they pretend to barf from yuckiness.
“Where is the Mulder Train going?” Scully asks.
“It’s, um, going.” Mulder chuckles. “Which one of you is the conductor?”
“Me!”
“I am!”
The two older kids fight over who gets to be the conductor. “We’re going to the kitchen for some snacks!” Matthew suggests.
“No! It’s already too late; we’re going to bed like Grandma said!” Emily insists. “Grandma told us to hurry.”
“That’s right!” A no-nonsense voice comes from the stairs. “Oh, Fox.” Maggie laughs when she sees her son-in-law. “Give me Wiley, and I’ll take the kids up. I think Bill and Tera are already asleep.”
“My parents sleep early.” Matthew tells Emily.
“Maybe they’re just waiting for us to go to bed so they can have a grown-up party.”
“Uncle Mulder, are you guys gonna have a grown-up party later?” Matthew looks up, his eyes earnest and trusting.
“I didn’t get an invitation.” Mulder shrugs his shoulder. “Plus, we got a big day tomorrow, so I think we’re all going to bed early, right, Dana?”
“Yep,” Scully agrees, “the last one in Grandma’s room is a rotten egg!”
The two bigger children hop off Mulder’s legs and run upstairs; Scully helps Gordon down as the three-year-old struggles to keep up with the big kids.
“Thanks, Mom.” She says as Maggie takes the baby boy from Mulder’s arm.
“You two big kids, don’t stay up too late.” Maggie runs up the stairs as the children are already hollering for her.
Mulder puts an arm around his wife. “It’s nice to grow up with siblings,” he comments. “I think Emily’s getting a kick out of being with Matthew and Gordon. Too bad there isn’t another girl for her to play with.”
“She’s fine. She’s having fun.” Scully reassures him.
“I’ve always wanted to have a girl to play with, a particular one.” He lifts her off her feet, and Scully giggles. “Looks like you’re the conductor of the Mulder Train now. Where are we going?”
“I thought you were a tree?” She laughs as she asks him, sensing the train is heading towards their room.
“Scully,” Mulder says with sleepy eyes, “I was the Mulder Tree. I’m now the Mulder Train.”
“And?” She whispers playfully against his ear.
“Soon I’ll be the Mulder Gift.” He says while raining kisses over her face, “And the Mulder Blanket, the Mulder Spoon, the Mulder Mattress—I’m your Mulder Everything.”
Oh, what a way to spend the Christmas holiday.
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thanks for reading. tagging @today-in-fic & @mulderscreek, thanks.
“Penny for your thought, Mulder?” She puts down her medical journal and finally glances at her man, who’s been eyeing her every couple of minutes while pretending to read a novel for the past 12 minutes.
“How many thoughts for a kiss?” He asks, and she leans closer to grant him his wish.
“I’m thinking…” He taps the cover of his book with his fingertips. “How did we get such a… bossy little girl?”
“Bossy? You think Emily is bossy?” Scully laughs. “Our Emily? The little Chiclet that looks like she could fit in your pocket? Bossy?”
Clearly this is news to Scully. She doesn’t right out deny it, but she is demanding him to provide examples and citations to support his argument, it seems.
“Yes. Bossy.” Mulder purposely sinks lower into the couch so his shoulder is touching her shoulder. “While I was on the phone with the Gunmen, she demanded for me to hand over the phone to her—bossy. Then, she told Byers that it is her bedtime, so she needs Mulder to be off the phone and reading in the next three minutes.”
Scully’s lips disappear as she tries hard not to laugh.
“What did Uncle Byers say?”
“Byers told her goodnight and hung up, but Langly called me almost immediately, and Emily won’t let me answer the phone! She said, Young gentleman, do you know what time it is?”
“Did she look like my mother when she said that?” Scully grins.
“Now that you mentioned it, she does!” Mulder emphasizes. “A little part of me had mistaken it for Bill; I guess your mom and Bill do look like a little when they’re not happy with me. And Emily, too. I was wondering when has Bill ever said that to her, because he’s always so busy playing Santa Claus with her. What did he send her last week?”
Scully quickly decides that would not be a conversation to have tonight, as she is certain that Mulder knows Bill had sent Emily another Barbie Dream House, and this time, with a pink convertible.
“So what did you do with Langly’s call?” She diverts the conversation and hopes that it’ll work.
“I had to hit the end button on my cell phone and go to her room, then I read her a story, and she went to bed looking like a little angel. How do I deal with that?”
“Well, you learn to be a parent.” She says matter-of-factly and brings his hand onto her protruding tummy.
“Didn’t she learn that…from a parent?”
“Clearly she didn’t learn it from me.” Scully says convincingly. “Do you think I’m bossy, Mulder?”
“Of course.” He watches as her eyes grow twice their size.
“Mulder!”
“Well, you’re bossy in a really cute way. And I guess Emily does it in a really cute way, too, but that’s because I keep thinking of you when she was telling me to get off the phone like my mother did when I was 15.”
“If anything, she wasn’t imitating me. She was imitating my mother, which, incidentally, sounds like what your mom used to do.” Scully crosses her arms in front of her chest, not sure if she wants to make Mulder sweat about calling her bossy.
“I mean, I don’t mind a woman who can speak her mind and stand up for people like you always do.” He playfully nudges her shoulder, bumping her anger almost completely out of the room. “But I do know other bossy women aren’t as lovely.”
Scully has to smile at that comment. She knows exactly who he’s referring to, and yes, Mulder does seem to attract a certain kind of bossy girls.
“Well, Mulder, if it makes you feel any better, I can tell Emily that she should talk to people nicely and not be so bossy, and that Mulder likes girls who aren’t bossy. She’ll always be that sweetie pie you love so much. Do you want that?”
“No, because that wouldn’t be true. I love her very bossy mother to death.” He finishes with a smile. “I do love your particular brand of bossiness, Scully.”
She stays quiet for a while before elbowing him in a spot that is ultra-ticklish, and he ducks, trying to retaliate.
“A kiss for your thoughts, Scully.” He asks after he’s successfully pinned her under him on the couch.
“My thought is only worth one kiss?” She asks.
Mulder quickly delivers a peck on her lips. “My kisses are always free for you, Scully.” He kisses her again. “Well?”
“Well,” Scully says while brushing a lock of his hair off his forehead, “I was gonna say it’s probably because Emily thinks you boys are such clueless creatures that she’s gotta be bossy to keep you all out of trouble. That’s my speculation, anyhow.”
“Ah, my Einstein,” Mulder says while kissing her left and right, “Yeah, that too. In that case, you can boss me for the rest of my life, Boss.”
They laugh so loud that it’s a wonder their bossy little girl does not wake up to implement a proper bedtime for her parents.
44.
The little first-grader walks into his office: “Mulder, I need to talk to you.”
“Okay, Foxi,” Mulder looks up and smiles. “Am I trouble?”
Emily presses her lips together and beams at him, “No. Can we make a deal?”
Mulder chuckles. “How ‘bout this, you tell me what you want to do, and we can talk about if it’s worth doing?”
He is beginning to wonder about those parental control with their cable settling now.
“Okay. Ms. Cai says in a few days it’ll be Chinese New Year.” Emily sits down in the little chair that Mulder has specifically set up for her. This way, the father-and-daughter pair can read together. Of course, Scully’s seat is across from Mulder; they like to keep the tradition alive.
“Is she going to have a classroom party?” Mulder asks. He and Scully have both met Ms. Cai at the Open School Night last October. Ms. Cai is warm and funny, possibly the best First-Grade teacher one can ask for, and Little Emily is very taken by her. “Is it going to be a dressed-up party? Did you sign Mommy and me up to help without asking us again?”
“No, I didn’t.” Emily blushes at his mention of her signing Mommy and Daddy up to be Santa and Mrs. Claus. Of course, she herself got to be an Elf, and a pregnant Scully did look ultra-adorable in a white wig and old-lady glasses.
“I was hoping that we can celebrate Chinese New Year.” Emily says bashfully.
A corner of Mulder’s lip perks up amusingly. “But we’re not Chinese.”
“Ms. Cai says it’s okay, and she says that everyone is welcome to celebrate the Chinese New Year. There will be a parade this weekend in Chinatown, and we should all check it out.” The girl puts her palms together. “Pleeease, Mulder?”
She’s perfected the puppy-dog eyes from him, and now the student has surpassed the master.
“Bunny, why don’t you tell me how one celebrates the Chinese New Year?” Mulder inquires.
“For Chinese New Year’s Eve, people have a big feast and play games with their family. All the children must stay up after midnight so that their parents will live for a very long time.”
Realization suddenly kicks in, and Mulder now understands why his little piglet wants to celebrate the Chinese New Year. Emily’s recently found out about Mommy’s cancer in ‘97 as Scully is approaching the five-year mark.
“What do people eat for this big feast?” Mulder decides that it’s easy to grant his daughter this wish. “You’ll help me cook it, right?”
“Ms. Cai says people living in Northern China eat lots of dumplings, and other people just have a big soup with everything in it…” Emily scratches her head. “I’m not really sure what she was talking about, Mulder. What are dumplings?”
“I think we can look it up on the Internet later.” The only dumplings he’s familiar with are the Chicken and Dumplings and Apple Dumplings, and he’s pretty sure those aren’t what Chinese people eat for dinner. “What else do they do?”
“It’s a six-day celebration! On the first day of the New Year, everyone sleeps in, and we cannot cut things, and no one cleans!”
“Really?” Mulder can’t help but sound a little doubtful. “I guess that makes sense if you stay up so late on the previous night. What happens on the second day?”
“We visit Grandma. Everyone visits their mo-, mo-model grandma?”
“Oh, you mean maternal grandma. Like their mommy’s mommy?”
“Yep.” Emily nods excitedly. “So we’ll have to take the day off and go to Maryland.”
“Honey, I don’t think Mommy will be okay with you missing school…” Mulder says softly, “But go on. What do people do on the third day?”
“On the third day, people go to the great outdoors with their family and have fun in the sun!” The child’s smile is so bright that Mulder can’t help but mirror it. “We can go hiking, or we can go to the big park and feed the ducks!”
“Emmie, I think on the fourth day, people stay home and clean, right?” Mulder jokes.
“Why?” Mulder’s suggestion sparks a curiosity in the child’s eyes.
“Well, it sounds like we’re gonna be lazy butts on the first day, and going to Grandma’s on the second day, and out to play on the third… By the fourth day, wouldn’t the kitchen sink be full of dirty dishes?”
Emily giggles. “I’ll have to ask Ms. Cai about it.”
She grabs ahold of her daddy’s arm. “So Mulder, can we celebrate Chinese New Year this year?”
“You just want to stay up past your bedtime, don’t you?” He teases.
“No!” She urgently defends herself, “I want Mommy to live for a very, very long time. And you too, Mulder.”
He pulls the little girl closer to him, “You want me to live a long, long time, or do you want me to stay up with ya?”
“Both. You have to live for so long, like until I’m an old lady too. And I want you to stay up so Mommy will be around to keep you company.” Emily begs, “Please, Mulder?”
“But I’m…” He is about to say that he isn’t Scully’s child, but instead, Mulder says, “I’m sure I can convince Mommy to stay up till midnight for Grandma, too. How’s that, Baby Banana?”
Emily grabs Mulder’s hand and gives it a firm shake. “Deal!”
45.
“I have something for you,” she whispers as if she doesn’t want anyone to know but him. “You can pick one you like.”
Mulder looks down at the child and smiles. He picks her up and places her on his lap. “What do you have, Foxi?”
Emily presents the sheet of stickers proudly. “Mrs. Wall says that I’ve been very good and so I got the whole sheet. She says I can share them with whoever I like.”
“Oh wow, Emmie, that’s great.” Mulder pats her on the arm. “Look at all these puppies and kittens!”
“Now, which one do you like?” The child asks with expectant eyes. When he doesn’t say anything, she quickly adds, “Do you want two, Mulder?”
“Oh, no, baby.” Mulder smiles politely. “I’m really happy that you want to share your sticker with me, but… I think I’m fine.”
“That’s okay, Mulder.” Emily says reassuringly, “Just pick one you like!”
“But…” He tries to let the child down easy, “I don’t have anything to put it on.”
“It’s okay, you can put it on your face!” The child suggests.
Mulder looks at her in wonderment and adoration. “Baby, grown-ups don’t put stickers on their faces.”
“You can put them on your hands, too, but they get wet when you wash them.” She tries hard to convince him. “I already put one on Wiley’s crib! A puppy that looks like It!”
Mulder thinks about this for a few moments. Sure, the guys are coming over later, and he’s sure that Scully’s already found a place to put her sticker. He better make up his mind soon.
“Thank you, Emily.” He studies the sheet of stickers and points at a Scottish Terrier. “May I have this one, please?”
“Of course, Mulder.” Emily carefully peels off the sticker. “Where are you going to put it?”
“How about over here?” He points at the little spot on his right cheek that’s closest to his ear.
Emily nods approvingly. “Here you go.”
She presses the sticker on his face several times, making sure it won't fall off.
“Thanks, Baby Banana.” Mulder lowers his little girl onto the floor, and she skips happily out of the room.
Twenty minutes later, Mulder greets the guys with the Scottie on his cheek. Byers stifles his laughter, Frohike looks confused, and Langly laughs so hard he can’t stand up straight.
“Thanks, guys,” Mulder deadpans. “Emily! Your uncles are here! Scully! I need you to come here, please!”
The child runs to the front door, waving the big sheet of stickers in her hand. Mulder watches Emily offering her precious stickers to Byers, Frohike, and Langly, and photographs each of them as she places stickers on their forehead, chin, and cheek.
Thank you for our wonderful baby, Mulder mutters as he places tiny kisses around the spot where he has put an orange kitten on Scully’s cheek, as the both of them watch Emily giggle in glee with her doting uncles.
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thanks for reading. tagging @today-in-fic & @mulderscreek, thanks.
It really shouldn’t bother her. She doesn’t know why it bothers her. Dammit, why does it bother her? She’s never let what people say bother her. Not her mother, not Bill Jr., not Skinner, and not even Mulder.
But lately, everyone’s raising an eyebrow or two when they hear Emily call Mulder Mulder.
Her mother thought it was impolite.
Bill thought it was ludicrous.
Skinner didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to say anything. That look was enough to communicate his confusion, and that he thought better to let go of the subject. Skinner enjoys being Uncle Walter very much and, from the end of his eyebrow, Scully can tell he’s glad that Emily does not call him Sir like she does.
==
“It’s fine, Scully.” Mulder reassures her. “It’s just a name.”
She can’t help but roll her eyes at him. Here’s the man who always, always cringes at the mention of his first name, the man who’s told her stories after stories of how he was teased relentlessly on playgrounds and in classrooms during elementary school. And now suddenly it’s just a name, Scully.
Mulder knows how to push her buttons. What’s worst is that Mulder has no idea this was a button he’s pushing.
“She can call me anything she wants,” Mulder reasons. “Emily only calls me Mulder because you call me Mulder, and she wants to be just like you.”
“She wants to be just like you, Mulder.” Scully points out. Sure, she’s very glad that her little girl loves Mulder so much, but Emily’s love for Mulder is somewhat of a mystery, something she can never explain.
This fact makes Mulder smug; it makes Mulder believe more in genetics.
Sometimes she isn’t sure why she’s in love with the idiot and having his child.
==
After many considerations, she gets her little baby to talk to her idiot about this matter.
“Now that Mulder and I are married, you can also call him Daddy.” Scully says awkwardly. She’s already explained this whole thing once when they went to court to finalize Mulder’s adoption of Emily. Scully hates repeating herself. She wishes that people could just keep their eyebrows in the proper place and mind their own business. She doesn’t want to call her husband Fox, and if her little girl wants to call her dad by his last name, then so be it.
“You can still call me Mulder, too, Baby Banana.” Mulder chimes in. “You can also call me Fox.”
“Fox?” Scully teases him. “She can call you Fox?”
“She’s my daughter, Scully. She can call me anything she wants.” Mulder says it matter-of-factly, “You can call me Fox, too, darling. You just choose not to.”
Giving up the prime opportunity to roll her eyes at him, Scully pretends not to hear the second part of the sentence. She also thinks it isn’t a proper time to ask Mulder if the baby in her tummy can also call me anything he wants.
“I can really call you anything I want?” Emily pipes up, eyes full of excitement. “Anything?”
“Baby, you can call me anything.” Mulder promises.
“Um…” Emily scrunches her face up to show that she’s thinking hard. “If I’m a princess…”
“Uh-huh?”
“And that’d make Mommy the King. Right?”
Scully decides to see where this is going and how Mulder would handle this conversation. She has faith that he’ll handle it brilliantly.
“Sure.” Mulder agrees.
“Then does that make you a wizard?”
Mulder chuckles. “Why would that make me a wizard?”
“Kings and wizards are best friends.” Emily supplies, “That’s why there’s always a wizard to help the king when the kingdom is in trouble.”
“I think Mommy is more like a wizard than me. They’re usually very smart, and can heal people. They’re very powerful too, and I’ve never met another person as powerful as Mommy.”
Emily giggles; clearly, she agrees. “So Mulder, do you also like wizards?”
“Of course.” Mulder winks at her, “I love wizards. Have you seen the Wizard of Oz? I used to read that to my sister when we were little.”
“Mulder, can you read me The Wizard of Oz?”
“We can even watch the movie. Here, I’ll teach you the munchkin dance. And we’ll make your mommy sing along with us. It goes follow the yellow brick road, follow the yellow brick road, follow, follow, follow, follow, follow the yellow brick road.”
Scully watches as her husband teaches her daughter how to do the munchkin dance.
“Mommy! Mulder’s gonna teach us how to dance!!” Emily calls on her urgently, and as if her little brother also wants to dance, he kicks Mommy softly in the tummy.
“I guess Mulder it is.” Patting her stomach, Scully mumbles under her breath. Mulder, it’s just a name, but it’s so much more.
41.
Scully’s sure that people typically go to their prenatal check-ups with their spouse or their children. The ones that go with their spouse are typically first-time parents. According to Tara, the first one is always so exciting that people raised it by the book. By the time the second child comes around, people raise it as if it were just a wild boar. And the third one? It’s raised by its two older siblings.
What about the fourth, and after? Mulder asks, forgetting that he’s eavesdropping from the kitchen.
Oh, those raise themselves! Tara laughs.
Tara is the happiest pregnant woman Scully’s ever seen. Mulder is inclined to believe Tara, because Tara is the sixth out of eight siblings.
Scully isn’t so convinced, for she’s sure Billy and Missy did not raise her; after all, she had been the most level-headed one of all the Scully children.
Since Bill is at sea so much, Tara has gone to most of her check-ups alone during her first pregnancy; Mattie accompanied her to all her check-ups for the second baby; he even tagged along for Lamaze classes a few times.
Bill has missed every single one of them. Tara says she doesn’t mind, but Scully knows better.
She knows, because Tara keeps telling Mulder that he just has to go.
It is slightly embarrassing to be sitting in the waiting room with both Mulder and Emily. Mulder typically has a low filter, but when he’s with Emily, his filter goes out of the window. While most of the other ladies are reading magazines, Mulder and Emily talk and laugh amongst themselves, asking Scully about woman questions; it’s like having two children with her.
Scully has noticed that men are usually uncomfortable around the OBGYN. The other man who’s also in the waiting room has kept his eyes glued to a cooking magazine as if it were Playboy. Not her Mulder.
She understands why they are both giddy. Emily likes visiting the doctors when she’s not the patient. Mulder is just being Mulder.
Finally, her name is called. The three of them sit in a room with baby blue walls, and one of the ultrasound technicians comes in.
“Hi!” Emily greets. “Are you the tummy photographer?”
The middle-aged lady in scrubs beams at the child. “I sure am! My name’s Shannon. What’s your name, sweetie?”
“I’m Emily the Fox!” Emily wiggles happily on Mulder’s lap. She puts her hand on Scully’s stomach, “and this is my brother Wiley Coyote.”
“Oh!” Shannon exclaims, “A fox and a coyote! Mommy’s gonna have her hands full with the two of you!”
Emily processes the technician’s word as a request for more information. “Three of us, because our daddy’s name is Fox.”
“Fox?” Shannon glances at Scully, her eyes seeking for confirmation. Scully nods. The woman’s glance falls on Mulder for the first time since she’s stepped into the room.
“Ah, and you must be Fox.”
Scully expects Mulder to make his typical response of Mulder, just Mulder.
To her surprise, Mulder extends his hand.
“Guilty. Hi Shannon, I’m Fox. As you can see, we’re all really excited. It’s our first baby.”
Shannon looks at Emily, puzzled. Her eyes shift toward Scully.
“I was a miracle.” Emily interjects.
“Yes, but that’s a secret, Princess.” Mulder stage-whispers to Emily, and the child covers her mouth with both hands. “Which I’m sure Shannon will keep, if we ask nicely.”
“Please, Ms. Shannon!” Emily pleads.
Shannon winks at the child while nodding in agreement. “Oh, I think I can manage to keep a secret or two.”
“Do you want to hear us howl?” Emily suddenly offers. “I just learned it last week!”
Shannon, God bless her, agrees. “That sounds wonderful, Emily the Fox, I’d love to, maybe just a little howl so you won’t scare the nice folks waiting outside?”
“Owoooooo….” Emily begins, “Mulder, you didn’t howl with me! Now, can we do it again?”
“Owooooooo.” Mulder joins in by howling lowly. “Wo wo wo wo wo…”
Scully’s sure that her face is burning now.
“It’s our… first time.” She manages to squeeze out.
“Dana,” Shannon pats her hand soothingly. “It’s wonderful to have your family with you, isn’t it?”
Scully suddenly realizes how she would really have envied herself just a few years ago, to be sitting with her husband and her daughter, waiting to see the ultrasound images of her baby. She decides to allow the butterflies in her stomach lift her spirit.
“Yes, you’re absolutely right.”
42.
The child has been sitting on her bicycle, watching him shoot hoops for a good 10 minutes or so. The training wheels on her bike aren’t off yet, and Emily places her feet firmly on the pedals, but she hasn’t moved an inch. Her eyesight isn’t following the ball; no, she doesn’t care if he makes the basket or not. She’s looking at him.
He wipes the sweat off his forehead and thinks it’s time to wash up for dinner. His little girl is not so little anymore. She’s growing right before his eyes, it seems. Rarely, he and Scully still take on cases out of town, and the last time they traveled, he swears that Emily had grown at least an inch in the five days they’d been away.
“Mulder,” Emily asks. “When I grow up, will I be as tall as you?”
“Do you want to grow as tall as me?”
She doesn’t reply right away. She just smiles at him giddily.
“Typically, girls don’t grow so tall.” Mulder comments. “Some do. But I think you’ll be fine. Maybe you’ll be tall. Maybe not. We don’t know.”
“Mommy isn’t very tall.” Emily points out. “Maybe I’ll be as tall as her.”
“That’ll be fine, too, Banana.” Mulder smiles.
“If I’m tall, then I’ll be more like you.” Emily says bashfully. “Maybe when I grow up, I’ll look more like you, too. You know, like Horton’s baby.”
“Horton’s baby?”
“Yes. There once was a bird named Mayzie, and Mayzie is lazy, and she doesn’t want to sit on her egg, so she asks Horton the Elephant to sit on the egg for her. And all the other animals made fun of him, and bad men took him to the circus for display, but Horton didn’t leave the egg. When the egg hatched, it had ears and a tail and a trunk just like an elephant! The baby bird looks like Horton! So maybe, I’ll grow up and look like you!”
“You want to look like me?” Emily notices Mulder’s voice sounds funny, and he keeps pressing his lips together. He takes a deep breath: “With this big nose? Mommy’s so much prettier.”
“I know. I want to look like Mommy too. Both you and Mommy.”
Sometimes Emily looks in the mirror and studies her face to find traces of Mulder. Sometimes she sees it, sometimes she doesn’t. It comes and goes.
“Oh Emmi,” Mulder touches her pigtails, “your mommy’s the prettiest person in the world, but you’re brave like me. You’re funny like me.”
“I’m nice like you.” Emily grins, “And Mommy. I’m double the nice, from both you and Mommy.”
Mulder lifts Emily off her bike and places her on his shoulder. “Foxi, you’re tall right now.”
“Yes! I’m taller than you!”
Emily hugs his head; her hands dance playfully on his cheeks.
“Mulder,” she says softly. “That’s my favorite story. Horton Hatches the Egg.”
“Oh yeah?” With her on his shoulder, Mulder pulls her bike back into the garage and tosses his basketball onto a rack. “It sounds like a good story.”
“I’m Horton’s baby too.” She holds tightly onto his head, and tugs on his ears, thinking about the elephant.
“Sure you are,” he smiles. “You’re Mulder’s baby too.”
“Yes!” Emily proclaims excitedly. “I’m Mulder and Dana’s baby.”
“Yep.”
Mulder’s voice sounds funny again, Emily thinks. “And you’re my Horton for life.” She adds.
The child wonders what she has said to make Mulder cry.
-----
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The child is coloring vigorously on the dining table with Mulder working on his report, also sitting at the dining table. We do have desks, Scully finds it comical how both Mulder and Emily want to be near each other as they do their work.
“Look, Mulder!” Emily pushes her construction paper towards the man. “I drew you and Mommy!”
“Oh?” He tosses his pen immediately as he abandons his task out the window. “Let’s have a look.”
“This is the fox,” Emily introduces, “and that’s you, Mulder. And Mommy’s the squirrel.”
“Very nice,” he studies the half-finished drawing. “We have human ears and animal ears.”
“Yep!” Emily agrees with pride.
“I especially like the tail.” He comments while pointing at the bushy tail on both animals.
Emily looks at Mulder admiring her drawing. “Mulder, do you want to be a fox more or a squirrel more?”
“I want to be myself more,” he winks, and Emily laughs even though she doesn’t really get why it is funny. “I guess, a squirrel.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve been Fox for as long as I remember, baby doll.”
Emily nods and stands up on her chair. She climbs on top of the dining table so that she is at eye level with Mulder.
“Can a fox and a squirrel have babies?”
“I don’t think so, baby.”
Emily looks sad. She looks at Mulder in the way little children do when they want their mommies or daddies to fix a wrong in their life.
Mulder has never wanted to cheer someone up so much as he does in this moment. Well, sure, there’s her mother, too, but he’s always bending the rules when it comes to Scully.
He nudges the child on her little elbow: “Hey, hey, but you know, there are a lot of things in nature we don’t know about; there are so many things waiting for people to discover...” There might be something that’s like a fox and a squirrel.”
“Maybe something that looks like a squirrel but is as big as a fox?” Emily asks with expectant eyes.
“Or maybe something that looks like a fox, but it’s as small as a squirrel!” Mulder puts his two index fingers together and makes a chipmunk face, which sends Emily into a series of giggles.
“Maybe something that is cute like a fox and cute like a squirrel?”
“Something that plans ahead like a squirrel and is… agile like a fox, maybe?” Mulder encourages the child to explore her imagination.
“Oh?” Emily asks.
“Momma,” Mulder hollers, “what’s an attribute of a fox?”
“A fox?” Scully hollers back. She knows this conversation will eventually find her somehow. “Um, they’re really fast? They’re nocturnal?”
Her listeners nod excitedly.
Scully carries on, “Well, they hear well, but they might not always listen.”
“Hey! I heard that!” Mulder protests.
“Yeah, but are you listening?”
Emily watches her parents banter with a snickering smile on her face.
“Mommy, when I grow up, I want to be a person who discovers new animals.”
Scully walks over to admire her daughter’s drawing. “That sounds fun. I can’t wait for you to discover a new animal or two. Maybe you’ll get to name it.”
“Maybe I’ll find something that is both a fox and a squirrel. Maybe something like… a Labradoodle!” Emily recalls her friend Gordie’s dog fondly.
“Scully,” Mulder mutters under his breath, “I think we need to make sure our little girl doesn’t become a mad scientist that creates new species of animals…”
Scully swats him squarely on the shoulder. Attribute of Fox? An endearing derpiness, that’s more like it.
38.
“Oh, I just can’t be-lieve it!”
Tara says it as if she’s in a TV commercial for a butter substitute; the woman’s hairdo does remind her of Fabio, Dana thinks.
Tara is all smiles, and Dana tries to make nice by matching her smiles. Dana likes her sister-in-law, she does. It’s just that Tara tries so hard to make up for Bill being Bill, and it tires everyone out by the end of the day.
Dana applauds the woman for being her brother’s wife. She’s always wondered what kind of woman Bill would marry, and Tara isn’t anything the Scully siblings had imagined at all.
So far, Tara’s complimented Dana on the new place (oh the neighbors are so friendly, Dana!) Emily’s room (Oh would you look at the unicorn wallpaper! I wish we were having a girl next!) and at breakfast (you've got to give me this recipe! Tomatoes and eggs! Mattie would love to eat this every day!)
Tara’s even praised her for picking such wonderful weather for them to fly out this weekend, and Dana wonders what Tara’ll say when the rain comes rolling in at 2pm according to the weatherman on Channel 9.
Tara has complimented her taste, her car, her dog, and Mulder. Dana thinks her sister-in-law is bound to run out of things to compliment soon.
Tara has also volunteered to take the kids out for a little shopping trip at Target, on the pretense that she has forgotten to pack her very important face lotion (oh, you know me, being pregnant took away so many brain cells! I’m surprised that I still remember my name!)
It does seem like she forgets her name sometimes, and only responses to mommy—Dana thought it was just for laughs until Tara replies sure sweetie to Emily’s Mommy, more juice please.
“... I told the kids that they can each get something they want since I was there to get something I want, and I just can’t believe any little kid would pick a book over sweets or a toy! A book! So, I said, honey, in addition to the book, you can get a toy, too!”
Tara says and claps her hands together. Having generosity for others really brings happiness to all, it seems.
“We went around the toy department, and Mattie’s already got a little pocket racecar and a box of rainbow goldfish, and Emily’s just sitting there, running her fingers on the cover of her book. So I suggested, ‘why not a doll? Something with long hair so you can brush it?’ And, oh Mom, you gotta hear this.”
Now she’s got Maggie’s full attention as well. Maggie is truly fond of her only daughter-in-law, no matter how silly and absentminded Tara seems sometimes.
“Emily said, ‘No thank you, I can brush Mulder’s hair.’ Now, isn’t that the cutest thing you’ve ever heard?”
“Is that why Fox is… in need of a haircut?” Maggie asks with a tinge of surprise. “I thought he was going for a different look.”
When Dana hasn’t responded to satisfy their cravings of knowledge, Maggie urges, “Dana?”
“Well, yes. Mulder likes to let Emily ride on his shoulders, and one time we were standing in line for hot dogs, and she got bored, so she took out her comb and started combing his hair.”
The two other women look at her as if they heard the head cheerleader got a new pin on her jacket.
“There’s nothing to brush, really, because Mulder’s hair was so short…” Dana exhales a tiny puff of air. “He’s thinking about letting it grow a little longer, but I think it makes him look… too shaggy for work. We’ll… see.”
Both her mother and sister-in-law begin to make ridiculous sounds as if they’re in the presence of puppies. Dana chuckles into her hand, thinking of new conversation topics.
“Oh, Dana! That Mulder!” Tara squeals and puts both hands on her tummy. “Bill will never, ever do that, even if this one were a girl!”
Typical Bill, Dana thinks.
“Well…” Dana tries to think of something nice to say. It isn’t healthy to compare, her inner self wants to scream.
“Dana, I got to say, despite you being your father’s favorite, he would not let you sit on his shoulder and comb his hair.”
“Mom! That’s not fair; Daddy’s got no hair!”
Laughter bursts out from the three women in the dining room, which inevitably attracts company. Mulder walks in with one toddler on his shoulders and another one on his back.
“Hey Mommies,” he calls, “we’ve decided that we’re hungry.”
Matthew climbs off Mulder and goes to his mother while Emily tugs on the man’s ear indicating that she wants to come down. The little girl leaps into her mommy’s lap, making Dana yelp in surprise.
“What were you guys talking about?” Mulder walks to stand behind Dana’s chair, his hands resting on her shoulders. “A good joke?”
Mulder’s new hairstyle makes him scruffy; in about a week or so, he’ll have bangs to cover his forehead.
“Oh, honey.” Dana reaches up to pat his face, and he kisses the inside of her hand. She thinks of Tara’s oh, Dana! That Mulder! is the best compliment she’ll ever get from her sister-in-law.
39.
The child has spent her Sunday afternoon preparing for a vocabulary quiz.
“Mulder,” Emily says as if it’s the biggest secret, “Mrs. Palmer says the best way to learn a word you don’t really know is to use it often in daily life.”
“Oh yeah?” Mulder seriously contemplates what he’s been told.
“Do you have a word that you don’t really understand?!” Emily asks with an air of disbelief. She thinks that Mulder knows everything in and out of this world.
“Sure.” He thinks it’s good to let the child know that he isn’t Mighty Mouse. “I don’t understand words like… Hallelujah.”
Emily scrunches up her nose. “What does that mean?”
“Well,” Mulder taps the cover of the dictionary. “Let’s find out.”
Emily grabs the dictionary, and Mulder spells out the word for her. It takes a while, but she locates it. She uses her index finger and glides over the line as she reads the definition: “Hallelujah, Noun. A cry of praise, joy, or gratitude. That doesn’t sound so hard to understand, Mulder.”
He chuckles in agreement, “Yeah, it doesn’t.”
“Wanna try it?” She proposes.
“Try what?” He looks at the child, amused.
“We will say Hallelujah when we want to cry of praise, joy, or gratitude.”
Mulder thinks of a better idea and whispers it to her ear. They both giggle like turkeys.
“Gobble gobble gobble,” Mulder flaps his arms to make the child laugh harder.
That evening, when Scully suggests to have pizza for dinner, and when both of them cry out, "Hallelujah!" Scully becomes quite confused.
Later, when the pizza man delivers their much-anticipated dinner, both man and child cry out again in unison, “Hallelujah!”
“Are you two playing a joke on me?” Scully asks.
“What joke?” Mulder deadpans.
“What joke?” Emily echoes.
The two of them giggle, and Scully is not amused. “Guys, that’s not funny. It’s not nice to keep people out of the loop.”
Mulder cannot stand Scully feeling hurt, even about something so minute and silly. “Scully, we’re just playing. It just means we agree with what Mommy says.”
“Why?”
Ah, Scully, always his reasonable one.
“It doesn’t need a why. It’s just for fun. You can join us.” He nudges her with his elbow. “C’mon, Mom, it’s fun.”
“Is it?” She’s not sold.
“Hallelujah!” They both cry with glee.
“Scully, you try it.” He urges her.
“Well, shouldn’t it be something one of you says and the other one and I agree to?”
The three of them sit on the couch, thinking of something to say. Mulder's two girls lean against him and scan around the living room as if they’re playing I Spy, and he murmurs, “Maybe we aren’t as smart as we think we are, Scully.”
“Hallelujah!” Both mother and daughter cry while laughing, one knowing what he means and the other one being completely lost. They both throw their arms around Mulder, giggling at something that isn’t really all that funny, and Mulder realizes at this present moment that he knows exactly what Hallelujah means now.
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“Wait, this is homework for me?” Mulder looks at her with mild disbelief.
Scully hides her smile behind the medical journal she’s reading. “What I said was it feels more like my homework than her homework. I think it aims to facilitate more quality parent-child time.”
“So, what do I need to do?” He scans the worksheet quickly.
“Emily will come and interview you with the questions on the list, and you’ll have to answer. That’s it.”
Mulder stares at the worksheet titled All My Favorite Things and sees the child’s big and neat handwriting on the top. M-U-L-D-E-R is spelled out correctly, and he feels proud at how smart his little girl is.
“Alright, Miss Scully!” He hollers, “I’m ready for my interview and close-up!”
Emily comes out wearing a blue and orange striped shirt, red overalls, and her hair in pigtails. “We’re really going for the Dennis the Menace look, aren’t we?” he chuckles as Emily climbs onto the dining room chair.
“Please read question number one.” The little buttercup instructs.
“Okay, what is your favorite food?” Mulder reads.
“Mulder, what is your favorite food?” Emily repeats.
Mulder tries hard to banish the idea of having a talk with Emily’s teacher about assigning more quality homework. “I think I’ll have to go with…macaroni and cheese.”
“Really? Me too!” The girl squeals. “I love mac ‘n cheese. Mulder, can you spell it for me?”
“Sure thing, it’s M-A-C space, N space, C-H-E-E-S-E.” He suddenly has a flashback of standing in front of the classroom for a game of spelling bee in the second grade while watching Emily print the letters in all caps on the line provided on the worksheet.
“Next question, please.” She beams.
“Alrighty, what is your favorite color?” Mulder tries again to not roll his eyes.
“Mulder, what is your favorite color?”
“Hum…” He is tempted to explain to little Emily that he is colorblind, and half expects her to say that’s so cool, a phrase she's recently picked up at school, before saying his answer. “Blue, like you and your mommy’s eyes.”
Mulder hears a scoff coming from Scully’s direction and glances at the table to see if there’s a dishtowel he can ball up. He’ll aim for her knee.
“I can spell blue!” She smiles and scribes the word proudly. “I like blue too. It’s pretty. Next!”
“Who is your favorite person?”
“Mulder, who is your favorite person?” The child asks with hopeful eyes.
“But that’s a secret, pumpkin, I can’t tell you, or you’ll tell everyone at school.”
Emily looks troubled. Worksheet or not, now she wants to know the answer even more.
“Do you want me to spell secret for you?” He offers.
“No, Mulder. I want you to tell me the answer.” The little girl presses on. “Who is it?”
She tugs on his sleeve and gives him his signature puppy-dog eyes. So this is what it feels like to be on the receiving end, Mulder realizes.
“Please?” She begs.
“Hum. Fine, you got me. You can spell this one too; it’s Scully.”
“Oh! Oh! I can spell Scully!” She prints happily while making the perfect curves on the letters s, c, and u. “Mulder, is it Mommy Scully or Emily Scully?”
“Sorry, can’t tell you.”
“Please?” She tries with the puppy-dog eyes again.
“Not so easy saying no, is it?” Scully calls from behind the medical journal, and Mulder briefly considers what he should ask when giving her his puppy-dog eyes tonight.
“Nope, my lips are sealed.” He makes a zipping sound and pretends that he has secured his lips with a zipper. “Come on, last question, and we can go bug Mommy.”
“Mulder, please read question 4.” Emily says with poise and grace.
“Question 4: What is your favorite animal?”
“Mulder, what is your favorite animal?” The child looks at him with huge curious eyes. Emily has long associated Uncle Byers as the animal person, and it has never occurred to her that Mulder might know about animals, too.
“Hum….” He pretends to think, using his index finger to tap his lips. “I’ll just spell it for you. Are you ready?”
“Um-huh.” She gets into her position, waiting not so patiently. She wants to tell Mulder that she can spell a lot of animals, like cat and dog and elephant and horse.
“It’s E-M-I-L-Y-S-C-U-L-L-Y” He spells slowly for the little girl to write on the worksheet with her pencil.
She looks at her answer. “Hey!” She giggles. “I’m not an animal!”
“Well, didn’t you say you wanted to be a baby fox last week?” He questioned her.
“Yes. No. I was playing.” Emily insists.
“Too bad, my favorite animal is Emilyscully. It’s got two legs like a turkey.”
“Hey!” The protest comes with no anger.
“It has bunny ears sometimes.” Mulder touches the child’s pigtails. “And it has the softest, prettiest fur I know.”
He picks the child up and walks towards the couch where her mother has been sitting, pretending to be reading but is actually eavesdropping, “and it makes this sound all the time, typically when it’s happy.” He says as he tickles the child, and Emily howls with laughter.
Holding the gleeful Emily, Mulder dives onto the couch and crashes into Scully, who’s been anticipating the ambush by putting away her medical journal and has her arms open to embrace her babies.
She has been ready for this for a long time.
35.
The child is entirely convinced that Mommy doesn’t know how fun it is to be carried around by Mulder because Mommy’s never let Mulder carry her.
Emily’s wrong, of course, but then again, she’s only five. Which is too old to be carried around, according to Mommy.
Now she can only get away with being carried when Mulder gets home from work. Or when she has to see a doctor. Or when Mulder comes to pick her up from school. Or when Mulder calls her Shorty. Or when she puts her arms up and Mommy’s too tired or busy to say otherwise.
Oh, and also when she forgets her shoes. Mommy says it’s not polite to walk barefoot outside.
Emily wants Mommy to experience how wonderful it is to be carried around by Mulder. She stands on the wooden bench in Grandma’s backyard, not really caring about the egg salad sandwich and her iced apple juice.
“Mulder,” She extends her arms out. “Can you carry me?”
“Emily…” Mommy says in her warning voice.
“Mulder, please?” The child pleads.
Mulder stands up swiftly and collects her into his arms. “Yes, Princess Emily, where does your highness want to go?”
“Mulder…” Mommy says in her warning voice again.
“Scully…”
Everyone knows that Mulder can’t say no to such a harmless request.
“Mulder, can you carry Mommy and me at the same time?”
Mommy frowns, and Emily puts her arms around Mulder’s neck. “Are you so strong?”
“Of course I am,” Mulder states. “C’mon, Scully, you heard the princess.”
“If she’s a princess,” Scully says, standing up and moving her arms as if she doesn’t know where they should go, “what am I?”
“You’re the queen.” Mulder places Emily back onto the bench and hoists Scully into his arms, “Like this, Princess?”
“Yes, yes, now me!” Emily waves her little hand. She climbs onto Mulder’s back.
“Now you gotta walk.”
“Am I the pet horse now?” Mulder mutters.
“Not a horse,” Emily giggles, “you’re my hero.”
My hero, Scully mouths, and Mulder winks at her.
Emily has no idea that Mulder carries Mommy around all the time in their room, and Grandma has decided to stay in the kitchen just a little longer; maybe she will take Emily to the movies this afternoon. Yeah, that’s exactly what she’ll do this afternoon.
36.
“Banana, you wanna teach me how to make oatmeal?” He teases the little child.
“Up!” Emily orders, and he obeys the chef right away by placing her on the counter. She is pleased: “Thanks, Mulder.”
“Am I making it, or are you making it?” She asks. “Because you know I can make it.”
“Yes, baby girl, but you’re gonna teach me, right?”
“Right!” The child, with her hair messy from sleep, sits on her hands to ensure that she will let Mulder make the oatmeal. “First you need bowls.”
‘Which bowls?”
“The two big green ones are for you and Mommy, and the fishy one for me.”
“Done. Next, Miss Scully?”
The child giggles at her new name.
“White cups in the drawer, please, the ones with the lines.” She points at the drawer next to the dishwasher.
“The measuring cups?” Mulder asks, and Emily looks puzzled. He digs for the measuring cups to show her.
“Yes, those, with the middle one, it’s two times in the green bowl.” Mulder scoops the oatmeal accordingly. “And one time for the fishy bowl, because that one is for me.”
“Sure.”
“Now, we add water to the oatmeal and mix it like this.” The little child makes a stirring motion. “Just a little.”
“How much water?”
“Hum, I’ll say stop.” She eyes Mulder with the water pitcher, and he isn’t sure which surprises him more: that Scully eyeballs anything or that this four-year-old child knows how much water to add to their morning oatmeal by eyeballing it.
“Now, ding it for 225.” She means to microwave it for 2 minutes and 25 seconds. Mulder wonders how many times little Emily has helped her mother in the kitchen, and whether little Dana did the same with Mrs. Scully.
They wait for the first bowl to cook in the microwave, then the second bowl, and finally the bowl with the blue fishy on the side. Emily sings Mulder a song she’s learned at school, complete with flapping arms and clapping hands for theatrical effects.
“What’s next, Miss Scully?” He takes each of the bowls out with an oven mitt—the little child is very insistent about that.
“Cinnamon, brown sugar, raisins, and coconut flakes for Mommy, chocolate chips for me, and both for Mulder.” She instructs. “Teeny-tiny cinnamon. Only one spoon of brown sugar and as much raisins as you want.”
Mulder watches the excited child wiggling on the kitchen counter. He places the bowls on a tray and carries them into the dining room. Then, he returns to the kitchen to fetch his baby girl.
“Mommy is still sleeping.” She reminds him. “Should we wake her up?”
Mulder contemplates for a brief second. “Why don’t you teach me how to tie your hair, Miss Scully?”
“Sure!” Emily says excitedly and runs to grab her hairbrush and her hair ties.
Mulder brushes her hair very gently and tries his best to put Emily’s very soft hair into one ponytail; he will tackle the pigtails next time, maybe. Then, he carries the child in his arms as they make their way to ambush Scully in her slumber.
“Mulder.” Emily whispers into his ear. “You’re the best Daddy in the universe.”
Grinning with pride, Fox Mulder doesn’t think he’ll ever receive a better compliment.
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“It’s fine, Scully, just let her sleep.” He balances the child’s backpack on one shoulder and shifts so that Emily’s head is resting on the other shoulder.
“She was too excited to sleep last night. I fell asleep before she did.” She gives him a grateful smile. “She didn’t even have a speaking part.”
“Yeah, but she got the part she wanted.”
“Well, no one fought her for it. All the other little girls wanted the animal roles. No one wanted to be the alien. She didn’t waver even after some kid teased her about her costume.”
‘That’s my girl.” He says proudly to Scully. “Though if you didn’t say anything, I would think that she was a frog.”
Scully just laughs and looks at the sleeping child in her fiancé’s arms, dressed in a large-sized, forest green onesie with a hoodie. “My alien little girl.”
They walk to the car parked in the vacant lot. Many of the parents have opted to walk home, but Mulder and Scully had driven here directly from their office to avoid being late and being denied entry into the school auditorium. It’s a beautiful night to be walking, as the weather is breezy and the moon is silver and full.
“Hey Scully, sit with me on the hood?”
She glances at her watch, then at the sleeping child, and nods her head. Mulder places Emily’s backpack onto the roof of the car, holds out his hand to steady his partner who’s climbing onto the hood of the car, and swiftly yet carefully hops onto the hood after her. He reclines onto the windshield and places Emily on his left side so Scully can nestle on his other shoulder.
They sit there quietly for a few minutes, looking at the stars and the huge moon, breathing in and out the crisp evening air. Mulder wonders about the several times in his life where he became an instant something by nothing of his doing. At age 3, he became an instant big brother. At age 12, he became an instant only child. At age 32, he became an instant partner to one Dana Scully, an instant half of a whole. At age 36, he became an instant parent. He has faced all those changes and taken on those roles, some he fought kicking and screaming, and some he just accepted while counting his good fortune.
“They had a special speaker at school a few days ago,” Scully begins in a low voice. “She came in to talk about all the different kinds of family. Emily told me she raised her hand and said she has one Mommy and one Mulder.”
Mulder bends his head to kiss Scully’s forehead.
“Then she told me the moon gave her to me. She knows I didn’t give birth to her, and of course she remembers the Sims. Maybe she got a little mixed up with her character from the play and real life.”
“Is that so bad, though? For her to think that?” He questions.
“I guess not? Maybe she’ll ask more questions when she’s older.”
“Maybe she won’t. If things make sense in her mind, she won’t.” Mulder reassures her. “I think some things in life are not meant to be asked but enjoyed, and you and Emily have taught me that.”
She flashes him a go on expression.
“Like how you were returned to me.”
“To you,” she repeats his words in a teasing tone, which he chooses to ignore.
“Like how your cancer went into remission. Like how you discovered Emily while visiting San Diego. Like how I got to have a child in my life two months before even kissing her mother.”
“It was less than 7 weeks, Mulder.” She corrects him.
“Math geek.” He teases her. “Good thing I like math geeks.”
“Well,” she wiggles her eyebrows. “I love math, and I love geeks.”
“Only you can call me a geek and get away with it, Scully.” He laughs lightly. “But you know, I thought seeing all those dads with a camcorder was what led me to my epiphany, but that wasn’t it.”
“What was it?” She stretches her legs from under her body and stares at the moon.
“It was seeing her dressed up as an alien and hearing that she actually fought for the part, and stuck with it no matter what people said to her. I don’t care what anyone says, this one is ours.”
He gathers Scully closer in his arm. “And her mommy’s mine, too.”
“Oh yeah, you’re our Mulder.”
The two of them neck like youngsters in love, on the hood of the car and under the silvery moon. Forgetting for a moment about the global conspiracies, alien abductions, or that tonight is a school night and they have a child dressed as an alien sleeping in the cool, late September air.
32.
Scully looks at the big cardboard box and wonders how to handle this matter as delicately as possible.
“Mommy, are we keeping him?” Emily pleads with puppy eyes exactly like those ones looking at Scully from the box.
“Emily, having a dog is a huge responsibility.” Scully explains slowly. She knows this isn’t the real reason behind her hesitation. Adopting Emily was the greatest responsibility she’s ever taken up, but she never hesitated for even a minute. Years ago, she also took Queequeg home despite Mulder’s protests, too.
Scully loves dogs, and Emily loves animals; she adores Mulder’s Mollys and loves playing with the neighbor’s cats.
“I think we need to think about it.” Scully pets the mutt’s head and Emily copies her by putting her hand on the dog’s back. “I need to call Uncle Charlie.”
While Scully calls her brother on her cell phone, Emily walks to the home phone and dials Mulder’s number. He picks up after two rings.
“Mulder?” Emily greets. “Where are you?”
“Hi Banana, I’m about five minutes away. Did Mommy need something from the store?”
“No, I just want to know where you are. Bye!”
Emily hangs up the phone before Mulder can say his farewell. The child’s come a long way from being reluctant to answer the phone to making a phone call to Mulder without giving a second thought.
Also finished with her phone call, Scully has taken the dog out of the box. The mutt is sniffing around the world around him.
“Are we keeping it?” Emily asks again.
“I think… We need to also ask Mulder about it.”
“Why?”
“Because…” Scully sighs; she hates saying this. “Because I’m not sure if Mulder likes dogs. I think he’s a cat person.”
“Oh.” Emily sounds disappointed. “What’s a cat person?”
Scully grabs the dog and holds it in her lap. She understands why Charlie asks his friend to bring the dog to her as a surprise, hoping she’d keep it. This little one looks just like one of their childhood dogs, Basil, from its fur to the pointy ears and the bright, dark eyes.
“A cat person likes cats. A dog person likes dogs. I think Mulder’s more of a cat person.” Scully comments, “Maybe he’s a fish person.”
Emily pets the dog softly. She’s never had one before, and this feels very different than petting her stuffed animals. She doesn’t really understand why.
“Mommy, are you a dog person?”
“I guess.” Scully reaches over to pet Emily’s head.
The two of them, well, three including the dog, all look at the door as Mulder inserts his key into the keyhole.
“Mulder!” Emily hops off the sofa and runs to the man, who picks her up immediately and kisses her cheek.
Scully remains seated on the sofa. If this pup didn’t look so much like Basil, it would make the decision so much easier.
Oh, who is she kidding? Even if this dog doesn’t look at Basil at all, or any of her previous dogs, Scully is still very inclined to keep it.
She sees Mulder coming towards her, eyes big like saucers. Scully stands with the dog in her arms.
“Mulder, are you a cat person?” Emily questions suddenly.
“Hum…” His gaze doesn’t leave Scully’s face.
“Mommy says she’s a dog person, but we have to see if you like it. Do you like it?”
Mulder puts Emily down on the sofa, and the dog also jumps off from Scully’s embrace. It goes to Emily and licks her little face, causing the child to yelp and giggle.
“Scully?” His voice is heavy with hesitation.
“Charlie’s friend found a dog, and this dog looks just like our old dog Basil, so Charlie tells the friend to bring the dog to me, hoping I’d keep it.”
“And?”
“And I told Emily that I want to see how you feel about it.”
Mulder forces a smile. “Why do I get to make the tough decision?”
“Because…this is a family decision.” Scully says earnestly.
He bites his lips. Yes, Scully and Emily are his family; he knows that. But why do his knees want to buckle? Does he want another member in his family? One that needs feeding and training and giving baths to and taking to the park, daily?
“Is that a decision we need to make right now?” He asks with matching sincerity.
“I guess not, but it’ll just get harder and harder as we spend more time with it.”
The two Scully girls spend the afternoon giving the dog a bath. Scully’s been calling it It because she knows she’ll get attached if she names it.
“I think it thinks its name is It.” Mulder comments as he watches the dog and the girl share one cushion on the sofa. It certainly is on his best behavior this afternoon. Mulder goes to sit next to the two, stroking the hair of the child and patting the neck of the dog.
When Emily wakes up from her nap, she sees that Mulder is napping with It. She goes to her mother and climbs into her lap. “Mommy, can we keep them?”
“Them?” Scully echoes.
“Yeah, Mulder and It. They’re nice together.” Emily places her cheek on her mommy’s chest.
“I know, I like them too.” She cradles the child in her arms and snuggles her closer. “Wanna help me with dinner? You can set the table.”
Emily nods, and the two of them go to the kitchen.
Scully is removing the dinner rolls off the baking sheet when Mulder walks into the kitchen. He wraps his arms around her and kisses her ear. “Hi, Baby.”
“Dinner will be ready in 15.”
“I have an announcement to make.” He says to Scully. “Emily?” He calls loudly, and the child comes into the kitchen, followed by the pup.
“Scully, can we keep It?”
With eyes full of happiness and gratitude, Scully squats down immediately, “Come here, Sweetie.” She calls the dog and It runs to its new mommy, licking her chin shyly.
Mulder grins as he takes a wide stride to pick up Emily in his arms. “You have a doggie brother now, young lady.”
“Mulder,” Emily leans against him, “are you still a cat person? Or are you a dog person now?”
“Baby Banana, I’m a Scully person.” He says lovingly as he watches his woman kiss the nose of the luckiest mutt in the world.
33.
“Mulder, I need to talk to you.” Scully says from the dining table, where pictures and envelopes surround her. She is mailing Bill and Charlie some photos of her and Emily, taken by Mulder with his new camera.
“Sorry, can’t move.” Mulder whispers loudly and Scully purses her lips in dismay.
“Why?”
“Baby Banana is sleeping on my lap. Don’t wanna wake her.” Scully tries hard to make out what he is saying with all the airy whispering.
“She’s fine; Emily’s always a good sleeper. Just move her off your lap or carry her into her room; I need to talk to you.”
“But…” He protests.
Fine, Scully thinks. We’ll do it your way. She leaves the current task at hand and goes to the living room. “I can come here.”
Mulder’s frown sets off his panic face. “But she’s sleeping!” He points at the lovely face drooling on his jeans.
“Well?” It’s clear that Scully won’t budge, so Mulder reluctantly carries the child into her room. It’s another 10 minutes when he reemerges into the living room.
“Are you trying to get out of having a conversation with me, Mulder?” Scully asks with an arched eyebrow.
“No, it just takes that long to tuck in a child.” Mulder explains. “What are we talking about?”
“You. You can’t keep on carrying Emily around. She’ll be 5 soon, and she loves to be carried around, but—”
“But what, Scully? I can’t carry my—” He stops dead in his tracks. “I can’t carry my little girl around? She can see better that way.”
“Mulder, you carry her everywhere! Mrs. Soto tells me that once Emily saw that you were the one picking her up, she tossed you her backpack and her water bottle and demanded to be carried.”
“It’s only to the car! That’s like 50 yards.” Mulder argues, not happy at the teacher for snitching.
“Mulder, Emily can walk; you don’t need to be carrying her around. She’s a big girl.” Scully explains softly.
“But…” He knows this is a losing battle, but he’s not backing down. “I missed out on three years of carrying her around. And once she’s a little older, she might start thinking boys are yucky and have cooties and don’t want to have anything to do with me.”
“That won’t happen.” Scully promises.
Mulder persists. “Why can’t I stop carrying her when she tells me that she’s too old to be carried around? Why must we follow…convention? If other men want to carry their daughters until they turn 5, fine, I don’t care, but I don’t understand why I can’t keep on carrying mine.”
Scully’s mouth hangs open for a bit. She forgets how to close it up.
“I’d carry you around too if you’d let me.” He mutters under his breath after a few seconds.
Scully can’t help but laugh. “Oh, Mulder.” She says, covering her mouth with her palm.
“I promise you, Scully, all little girls get to a specific point in their life when they no longer want anything to do with their dads. I can’t take my chances with that.”
“Mulder, have you seen how Emily dotes on you? I swear, if you weren’t…you, I’d be jealous of how much she likes you.”
“Girls are fickle,” Mulder comments flatly.
She contemplates for a few seconds. “Mulder.” She nudges his knee with hers. “You wanna carry me around?”
Before Scully finishes her sentence, Mulder hurries to scoop her up in his arms, mouth smiling, eyes full of glee, “Of course I do!”
Mulder wishes he lived in a universe where he could carry both his big and little Scullys everywhere he goes, and no one would bat an eye.
-----
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“Mulder, I’ve waited for this,” she looks up at him with smiling eyes, “for all my life.”
“And what’s that?” He asks.
“Going camping with you and Mommy.” Emily answers.
Mulder tries hard to suppress his laughter. “Banana, you’re five years old. You’ve only known me and Mommy for what, less than 2 years? How can you have waited for this all your life?”
“Mmm,” the child tilts her head slightly to the left and ponders for a second or two. “It feels like all my life.”
“So are you really, really excited to be here?” Mulder looks at her endearingly, “Excited for tonight? Do you know what’s gonna happen later?”
“Yes!” She cracks a toothy grin. “Mommy says after we get enough stick for the fire, we’ll be making dinner, and when it’s nighttime, the Indian Guy is going to tell us stories about the stars.”
“Not the Indian Guy, baby,” Mulder bends down to pick up another stick. He thinks they have gathered enough for now. “It’s the Indian Guide.” He places emphasis on the word so that his child can hear the difference.
“Do you know who’s this mystery Indian Guide?” He teases.
“It’s you!” Emily exclaims exuberantly.
“Yep, and the Indian Guide says that we’ve got enough sticks for now. Let’s head back.”
“O-kay.”
The walk back to their campsite is long, as Emily gets distracted several times by the wildflowers and the trees. She’s hoping to see an animal or at least animal tracks, but they haven’t gone very deep into the forest.
“Foxi,” Mulder calls lightheartedly, “why have you been waiting to go camping with Mommy and me? What do you know about camping?”
Samantha hated the notion of camping, he thinks. She dreaded the bugs and was scared about not being able to shower.
“We’ll build a fire and roast hot dogs and marshmallows. We can eat saucy beans from a can with a spoon, with no bowls. Nom nom nom.” Emily playfully makes her piggy sounds.
“Nom nom nom.” Mulder copies her, and the child’s giggles soar amongst the trees. “And?”
“And…no bedtime.” She smiles. “And I’ll sleep between you and Mommy in the tent.”
He wants to wave at her, but his arms are full with sticks and twigs.
“How was the walk?” She gathers the twigs from her daughter’s arms and puts them in the fire ring she’s built. “You two were gone longer than I thought. Let me get the fire going so we can make dinner.”
As Scully works to start the fire, Mulder goes and picks Emily up in his arms. The man and the child watch Scully with an almost sacred reverence.
“What’s Mommy doing?” Emily whispers. She doesn’t want to bother her mommy with her question.
“Mommy’s building a fire.” He whispers back.
“How come you’re not building the fire?” The child questions.
“Because I don’t like fire.” Mulder admits to an awe-stricken Emily. “I think it’s a little scary, so I’ll sit a little far away from it, and I’ll take your mommy to all my camping trips so she can build fires for us.”
“Oh.” Emily reaches out her chubby hand and touches his hair ever so softly. “That’s okay. It’s okay to be afraid.”
She says as her other hand pats his back.
“Fire is very dangerous, so I want you to be extra careful around it too, Baby Banana. I don’t want you to be a burnt banana.”
“Burnt banana,” she giggles. “Sure, Mulder, I’ll be 200% careful.”
“Good girl.” He sees that Scully has successfully got the fire going. “Good job, Mommy.” He praised; if he wasn’t holding Emily, Mulder would have clapped.
“Alright, now which one of you will help me with cooking, and which one of you will go fill up some water in the bucket?”
“Me!” Emily raises her hand and wiggles to indicate that she wants to get down.
Mulder watches a smiling Scully walking to the picnic table, followed by a smiling mini-Scully. He grins, realizing that this is his first camping trip with his family.
I’ve waited for this all my life, too, Mulder thinks as he heads toward the water fountain.
29.
If there is anything she can change about this moment, it’s where they are sitting, but aside from that, everything is nearly perfect.
Emily has taken to heart that her hero Mulder is afraid of fire. “I’ll keep you safe, Mulder,” she promises as she forces him to move his camp chair a good two feet away from the flames. “And I’ll keep you company, too!“ Emily declares when she drags her little junior camping chair next to his, making the two of them sit several footsteps away from the campfire.
Which means Scully has to do all the cooking as the only person who is allowed to sit next to the fire.
“Mommy, be careful!” Emily warns every five minutes or so, stretching her neck to see if Scully is indeed keeping a friendly distance from the red fiend.
“Maybe we’ll just have potato salad and a cheese platter next time.” Scully evaluates as she watches Mulder holding the hot can of baked beans with a towel and Emily scooping out the beans, taking turns feeding the three of them.
“I packed enough spoons.” She reminds them, but neither the man nor the child seems to mind this little unhygienic activity.
“Maybe a gas stove next time?” Mulder suggests, his mouth full of baked beans, “Or those meals that you pull on the strings and they heat themselves?”
“That’s not camping!” The Camping Police complains loudly.
Emily is so excited for this trip that she couldn’t sleep the night before, so, after two hot dogs, she looks pretty tuckered out. But the child has the stubbornness of her mother and Mulder combined, and she is not willing to go to sleep until the grand event that Mulder has promised her.
“Mulder,” Scully nudges him on the elbow as the three of them watch the flame from two feet away. “Bedtime,” she mouths.
“So, are you ready for the grand event, Emily?” He asks.
“Yes!” The child's eyes grow wide and excited. “What is it?”
“Hun, I think the itinerary calls it Scary Story time with the Indian Guide.” Mulder grins proudly, “followed by counting the stars until we all fall asleep.”
Emily climbs off her little chair and goes to sit on her mother's lap, and Scully holds her daughter snugly.
“So, scary story. Before we met you, your mommy and I went to the forest, and we didn’t have a tent, so we had to sleep sitting up. I even made your mommy sing me a song.”
“Did you two go camping too? But not prepared?” Emily questions, for she doesn’t believe her mother would go anywhere without being prepared.
“Well, we had a little accident.”
“Little accident?” Emily’s eyes grow even wider. “Did you bring pants?”
“Oh no,” Mulder laughs, “not that kind of accident. I got hurt.”
“Did you fall?” The child looks worried.
“No, I got bitten.” Mulder points at his left chest, “right here.”
“By what? A tiger?”
Scully senses a tensed-up Emily in her arms, but she is already too late: “I got bitten by an ancient person who can become invisible in the forest, like he could see us but we couldn’t see him.”
“Mommy.” Emily turns to hide her face in her mother’s chest. “I’m scared.”
Scully doesn’t know if she wants to kick Mulder for telling this story to a five-year-old, or kick herself for not stopping him before it gets too scary for a five-year-old.
“It’s alright, baby.” Scully stands up from her camp chair and glares at Mulder, who is wearing his oops face. “Why don’t we go to bed now?”
“But you said no bedtime at camping!” The child’s crying now.
“Alright, we’ll just lie on the blanket and look at the stars; how’s that?” Scully coos.
“With me in the middle between you and Mulder?” She says through hiccups.
“Yes, sweetie.”
Mulder redeems himself by already getting the thick blankets out on the grass and placing the lanterns and the folded-up sweatshirts as pillows. He lies down on the blanket, and Scully lies down next to him. Emily pulls the two adults closer to her with her hands, and the three of them cuddle closely as if they were seeking for warmth on a cold night without a heater.
“Look at the moon, Foxi.” Mulder places his big hand on top of Scully’s smaller one, which is resting on the child’s tummy.
“Mommy and Mulder will be here with you the whole time, and when we get sleepy, we’ll go into the tent, and tomorrow there’ll be fried eggs and toast with strawberry jam waiting for you.”
“You keep me safe.” Emily says and places her hands on top of the hands that belonged to the two people she loves the most in the world.
30.
“Good morning.” He says into her ear. It’s a rather chilly morning in the forest, and he loves seeing his Scully swallowed up in a big puffy vest. “You look lumberjacky.”
“In case you hadn’t noticed, Mulder, the shirt I’m wearing is yours.” She smiles shyly as she spreads strawberry jam onto a piece of French toast.
“Why are we whispering?” He asks while kissing her earlobe.
“Because if Emily sees you standing so close to the fire, she’ll have a fit.” Scully gathers a dollop of Nutella with her index finger and smears it on his lips playfully, moving too quickly for him to catch her finger.
“I’ll just tell her that her mommy protects me from everything.” He savors the cocoa hazelnut spread, “from beast women to liver-eating mutants to alien viruses to crazy mind-controllers to…my loneliness and insanity.”
“When you put it that way,” she looks at him dreamily, “I don’t get paid enough for doing my job, do I?”
“Scuh-lee!” His whispery whine brings a giddy smile to her face.
She turns to face him, moving the both of them further away from the campfire. “Mulder, I want to thank you for coming camping with Emily and me. It really means a lot to her and… to me, too. I grew up going camping every year. I don’t think it’d be nearly half as fun without you here with us.”
“You know her birthday wishes and water-fountain wishes had been going camping with Mommy and Mulder, and that’s why we’re doing this, aren’t we?” His hands rub her elbows in a soothing manner. Even though he is aware that this camping trip is Emily’s wish, Mulder knows that it’s Scully’s wish that her daughter is happy—and he’ll do everything he can so that Scully gets what she wants.
“About that…” Scully looks up at Mulder’s hazel eyes. “Do you think she’ll think that we’re getting married because that’s her birthday wish last year?”
“Wait, you mean it isn’t?” He plays dumb and gets smacked square in the chest for it.
“Of course not, you crackpot.” She laughs into his chest as he pulls her closer to him.
“So, why is someone so brilliant and beautiful like you marrying a crackpot like me?”
“You’ll have to figure that one out on your own, Buddy.” She flashes him an enigmatic smile.
“Have you told her?” He asks the woman in his arms.
“Yes, I told her there will be a party and we’ll all dress up together and dance. I’m not sure if she understands the concept of marriage. She thinks we’re already married.” Scully shakes her head with a tender smile. “She seems to only care about what kind of cake we’ll be having at the wedding.”
“Ooo,” Mulder says with his nose buried in his fiancée’s hair, “what kind of cake are we having?”
Scully cannot help but laugh, never minding the possibility of waking up her little girl: “Remind me again why I am marrying you?”
“Because I love you.” He finishes his sentence with his lips on hers, and he can feel her grinning from his lips. He knows he’s grinning, too.
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Emily looks at him with huge teardrops on her eyelashes. She shakes her head while giving Mulder his signature puppy-dog eyes.
“One more bite and you can have some juice.” He brings the spoon closer to the child’s lips, but she presses them tight and shakes her head again.
He sighs. “Alright, Sweetie, want your apple juice now?”
“Yes, please.” Her voice is smaller than the sound of the flapping wings of a hummingbird.
“I got you a special straw.” Mulder adds, “Look at the Mickey ears.”
“Mickey ears.” Emily replies softly and tries her best to smile.
He places the plastic cup on the coffee table. “Do you want to take a nap, baby?”
Emily shakes her head no. She isn’t happy about missing school; she misses her friends, and she isn’t happy that Mommy has to go to work. She made Grandma sad when she kicked and screamed, saying she wanted to go home, and then Mulder came to pick her up and took her home.
She is happy that Mulder is here, but she also wants Mommy to be here, too. She also doesn’t want to go see Mister Doctor again.
“Here,” Mulder picks her up from the sofa, and Emily wraps her arms around his neck. He takes one of the thick and soft bath towels and drapes it over her little body. He is thinking about singing a song, but the only lullaby in his head right now is that ballad they play so much on the radio. The one that mentions Dennis Hopper, Bob Seeger, and Sonny and Cher.
Rock-a-bye.
His little girl is never going to be a girl like the one sung about in that song, Mulder is sure.
“Mulder?” Emily whispers.
“Yes, Emmie?” He pats the child’s back. He’s still donning his dress shirt and slacks; he might have used his tie for a handkerchief on the girl’s face earlier. He had worn such ugly ties so they’re disposable, granted that Scully buys his ties now; old habits die hard, and he still thinks of his ties as disposable.
“I want Mommy.” She cries; her hiccups break his heart.
Scully knows this is just chickenpox. Emily’s preschool teacher has been sending home notes regarding recent chickenpox cases in the community.
It was difficult obtaining the medical records for Emily; they had to employ the Gunmen’s help, and there were still missing pieces of the puzzle. Scully has completely forgotten about the threat of chickenpox, something so normal and…… itchy. She recalls getting chickenpox in kindergarten; she was separated from Charlie and Missy for a whole week. The memory is fresh in her head because Mom just walked down that particular memory lane with her on the phone.
Her mother, God bless her, has just spent a good 15 minutes giving her tip after tip on dealing with the disease.
People forget that she’s a medical doctor sometimes, she muses.
“Mommy’s home!” Scully opens the front door and calls into the house. “Mulder? Emily?”
She takes off her jacket and kicks off her shoes, hanging up her keys and removing her cell phone from her pocket. It feels like the house is empty.
A few seconds go by, and a defeated-looking Mulder comes out of the living room. “Scully!” He says happily and draws her into his arm.
“Hey,” she says, standing on her tippy toes and kissing him. “Thanks for taking care of my baby. How is she?”
“I don’t know how you do this, Scully.” He presses his nose into her neck. “I don’t know how you do it. She’s finally sleeping, after requesting me to sing the same song 8 or 9 times, and I only know the chorus.”
Mulder’s not letting go of her and holds her tighter than usual.
“What’s wrong, darling?” She moves backward a little so she can look at his face.
“I don’t feel so well. I might have Sympathy Pox.”
“Hum, you do feel a little warm.” She looks at him, still dressed in his work clothes, with his sleeves rolled up and collar loose.
“She wants Mommy.” Mulder’s giving her the puppy-dog eyes, though Scully isn’t sure what he wants. “I want Mommy too.”
“Oh, poor thing,” she extends her hand to touch his jawline. “Mommy’s here.” She babies her big baby. “Mommy’s here.”
26.
It’s a big deal for him, coming back to this house.
It’s a bigger deal for him to bring Scully and Emily with him.
And it’s the biggest, hugest—in Emily’s words, monster-ous—deal for him to fix and re-secure the swing in the backyard.
Mulder does not know the art that is swing installing. A frustrating hour later, he also pleasantly finds out that they now have people for that.
He used to think it was funny how his mother had people to run her house for her. Mother has people to wash her car and mow her lawn and fix her roof and shop for her children’s winter coats from New York…
He and Scully have been making fun of that—his mother and her people. And today, he is Mr. Mulder, who has people to install the biggest and the best and the baddest globe swing one can find in the state of Massachusetts.
“What happened to the swing on the tree, Fox?” His mother asks.
Scully looks at him with an impish smirk, and Mulder has some ideas of what he’ll do to get back at her for that later tonight, but he says very nonchalantly, “An upgrade.”
Of course he lets Emily be the first one on it. He waits for her to wake up from her nap, and sweeps her up into his arms. Who cares that Scully keeps saying Emily’s too big to be carried around? He lost the first three years to carry her, and he’s trying to make up for that time. He’d carry Scully around, too, but that’ll have to be later tonight…
“Ta-da!” Mulder sings under the golden sun in the afternoon. “Wanna try it?”
“Is there a safety belt for this?” The child grabs onto his neck.
“Foxi, you’ve been on these before, haven’t you?” Mulder asks, surprised.
The little girl shakes her head no, then nods, then shakes her head no again. “Not by myself,” she whispers. “Mulder, will you go on it with me?”
“’Course I will.” Mulder replies, hoping he wouldn’t get… nauseated from this.
He places Emily on one side and steps onto the other side.
“No, Mulder!” Emily waves. “Sit next to me!”
Surely, he can’t say no to that.
“Do you want it fast, Princess?” He holds on to the bar, wondering how fast he can take it. Emily doesn’t even throw up on the teacups, which is his number one nemesis at the amusement park.
“Not so fast.” She snuggles closer to him.
“Alrighty.”
The mechanism picks up soon, and they swing in the breeze. This is kinda nice, Mulder thinks.
“Mulder,” Emily asks, “what did you study at school?”
Mulder wonders what his mother has been saying to the child. “Psychology. It’s the study of the mind and behavior.”
“What did Mommy study?”
“Mommy studied a lot of things.” Mulder smiles. Clearly this is their favorite topic of all time. “First, she studied physics. That’s like energy and motion, like why this swing swings. It’s also about electricity, and the waves at the ocean, and sound…”
He hopes that he’s doing justice with this simple explanation. The child nods, “the science of how things move.”
“You’re exactly right.” He praises. “She also studied how to be a doctor, so when you and I get hurt, she can take care of us.”
“Yep!” Emily nods enthusiastically, and her excitement makes the swing go a little faster.
“Of course, she also studied about…” Mulder’s voice goes into a whisper, “How to cut up dead people to know why they died.”
“Ekk!” Emily puts up her hands to cover her ears, and Mulder protectively tightens his arm around her. The child has recently experienced the unfortunate event of opening her mother’s work folder on the dining table. In the end, Scully learns to never leave her work unattended at home, Emily learns to never touch her mother’s work things unless being asked, and Mulder learns how to calm big and little Scully down with enough cooing and sweetie it’s okay.
“Mommy does that to help people.” Mulder adds. “She’s very important to the FBI.”
Emily agrees with a nod. “Why…” She pauses for a second or two. “Why is that Mommy studied three things and you studied one?”
Mulder gives a light puff of air. The last time he was on a swing in this backyard, Samantha was so worried that he would break it. And being nearly twelve years old, he really hoped he wouldn’t break it. He didn’t, but she would never find out. The swing broke itself due to not having any more children giggling on it.
“But I have, Baby Banana,” Mulder explains. “For the past many years, I have been study… Sculliology.”
“Sculliology?” The child repeats.
“Yes, that’s the study of Scully. It’s a very interesting and important field of knowledge. And I’ve been the leading and the only researcher. There’s no one else but me who’s studying Sculliology.”
The child pretends to frown at him. “I’m gonna ask Mommy if that’s true.”
“Well, Emily, just ask yourself. The study of Scully keeps expanding, and now I have new subjects to observe. I gotta learn and record so many things, like what the young one likes to eat, and what makes her go yuck at the dinner table.”
Emily giggles. She pulls her arms up to grab the bars and copies Mulder’s earlier movement to make the swing go faster.
“Onion makes me go yuck!” She announces, “And I like broccoli and noodles, and we both like you and your mommy and your house, Mulder.”
“Do you really?” Mulder says with a dreamy smile.
“Yep! And what else do you want to know? Just ask me!” Emily squeals, eager to help.
Mulder pulls up his arms to make the swing go higher, which makes the child laugh, which makes him laugh, and he thinks about getting Scully to join in on the fun. This backyard will never again be a source of pain for him, Mulder vows; it’ll be filled with laughter and giggles and summers and picnics and counting stars and telling stories…
Mulder muses while loving every moment of his field study of Sculliology.
27.
When Mulder got the call, he felt like someone had drained all his blood from a cut in his heart. He felt like vomiting. He felt dizzy and sick. He did not even put the phone properly back onto its cradle. The phone was screaming like his mind was when he grabbed his coat to rush out of their basement office.
He would not argue if anyone said he’s wearing his panic face. Scully wouldn’t be finished with the court for another two hours, he estimated. They rarely got to press charges with the kind of cases they pursued, yet they both dreaded the long process when they did. He couldn’t even call her to tell her the bad news.
And it was indeed the panic face that met the tall and dark-skinned doctor at the emergency room.
“I just got a call. I’m here for Emily Scully.” Mulder barked.
“Are you the father?” The doctor asked.
Am I the father? Mulder’s eyes grew huge. He looked around, trying to spot a little girl with sandy-blonde pigtails, the child he’d grown to hold so dear in his heart. Am I the father?
“Y-yes, I am.”
“Alright, Mr. Scully. I know every parent hates to get a call like you did…..”
The doctor proceeded to explain the little girl’s injury. Emily had fallen from the slide with another child. She had suffered a fracture on her left arm, and the other child received three stitches on the head. Dr. Katoatau explained to Mulder about the medication he’d prescribed and that the cast would probably need to stay on for 4-6 weeks.
“Emily is a good little patient. She was very calm and asked for her mommy only once.” Dr. Katoatau patted Mulder’s shoulder. “My daughters are mommy’s girls, too.”
He led Mulder into the room where Emily was sitting on the bed dangling her feet. “Emily, your daddy’s here!” The kind doctor commented.
“Daddy?” Emily squealed, her voice full of confusion.
“Hey, Bunny.” Mulder said lowly. He hated it when he had to lie in front of Emily. He never wanted to lie to Emily. After the adoption was final, Scully explained to her daughter many times that Mulder is Mulder and not Daddy. Emily nodded every time, and it wasn’t like Mulder minded being called Daddy. After all, that was his role, wasn’t it?
“Mulder!” She screamed and reached up with one of her little arms. “Mulder!”
Emily began sobbing, and Mulder rushed over to her immediately. Picking her up and holding her tight, he murmured, “It’s okay, I’m here. I’m right here.”
The child cried as if she had to express all the pain and sorrow she felt in the last three hours after falling off the slide with Sherry on top of her. Sherry had bled, and all the little kids were crying too, but Emily felt like she needed to be brave. She had not cried until she saw Mulder.
“Mr. Scully?” Dr. Katoatau hesitated for a brief moment. His gaze fell on his little patient and the tall man with tears on his face. He had awarded Emily three lollipops for not crying just 20 minutes ago, and now, he’s witnessing two people sobbing like the world is ending right in front of him. The doctor leaned against the wall and watched the man take out his handkerchief from his pocket to dry the tears on the face of his little girl.
“Come on, Foxi, let’s go home.” The child nodded.
“Let’s say thank you to Dr. Katoatau.”
“Thank you, Dr. Katoatau.” The girl waved at the doctor while clinging onto her father like a koala.
“Bye-bye, Emily.” The doctor waved back. “Bye, Mr. Scully.”
He saw the man dressed in a suit carrying his daughter with one arm and her Pooh Bear backpack with the other. The child hid her face in her daddy’s neck, and the man smiled so sweetly at her. Dr. Katoatau felt like he’d thought wrong earlier; little Emily is not a mommy’s girl, after all.
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“But Scully,” he whines with those puppy eyes of his, “that’s what duty-free shops are for! Why else are they everywhere in airports? They could’ve just rented the spaces to museums and pubs and coffee shops.”
Scully tries her best not to roll her eyes. This is not the first time that she and Mulder take on a case out of state after she’s adopted Emily, but this is the first time that the case took over a week, and she can’t wait to go home to see her baby girl. By the time they get back to Baltimore, it’d be too late to pick Emily up from Grandma’s. Here’s another night without the little one with the puppy-dog eyes, who’s been calling her and Mulder every night, asking when they’ll be back.
Emily is excited because they accidentally slipped that Mulder will be moving in at the end of the month. Of course, this was before they spent a whole week in San Mateo investigating close to a dozen tourists disappearing from a famous beach, only to reappear back inside their hotel rooms with thousands of dollars' worth of charges from local mom-and-pop shops. But she knows that Mulder would rather lose his pinky toe than break a promise he made to Emily.
Scully sighs as she envisions spending the upcoming weekend helping Mulder box, move, and reorganize.
“They have these shops for a reason, Scully.” He is still trying to get her to see his point: “When you travel without children, you’re supposed to bring them a gift. It’s a traditional practice that dates back to the Middle Ages. I think I’ve read it somewhere….”
“Mulder, that’s the premise of Beauty and the Beast. Belle asks for a rose, and her father…”
He cuts her off mid-sentence, “Are you sure it isn’t from Cinderella? Didn’t the father get a dog and horse for his daughter? All I got for our baby was a teddy bear; should I get some chocolate, too?”
Scully chuckles, and he grins at the sound of her mirth. “What?”
“I was gonna say that it also happened in Wuthering Heights, where the father brings home Heathcliff instead of the whip and fiddle he’d promised.” She stares at him. “Mulder, I hope you didn’t do anything of that sort with Emily before we flew out here.”
“Nope; it’s a surprise.” He eyes the thick blue plastic sack. “I think she’ll love it. And we travel so much; everyone needs a teddy bear, Scully.”
“Yes, but the bear you’ve just purchased was 48 dollars!” She also eyes the bag, her expression close to disbelief. “Is there a computer chip in it? Does it do math? How can it be so expensive?”
“And it was duty-free, too.” He grins as if he has never made a better purchase in his life. “Look, what a nice color; it’s called deep space sparkle.”
Mulder pulls open the bag and picks out the bear, which confirms once again that he is indeed colorblind. “I’ve always wanted one just like it when I was little. I gave my teddy bear to Samantha when I turned six. Every little girl deserves a teddy bear, Scully.”
Scully looks at the grayish blue and silly-looking bear that Mulder clutches in his arm. She thinks of her own teddy bear, Mr. Apples, and the corners of her mouth turn up.
“Do you want one too, Little Dana?” He says between a leer and a tease. “Something to keep you company at night? Something warm, soft, and snuggly?”
“Well…” She grabs Mulder’s arm and clutches it like the way he’s holding the bear. “I think I’m good.”
He kisses her forehead sweetly, glad that she can see his reasoning behind the gift. “I just want to show Emily that she’s on our minds even when we’re on the other side of the country fighting… fraudulent credit card purchases with a paranormal flair.”
“Okay, Mulder,” Scully reaches over to pat the bear on its head. “Just know that with the amount of traveling we do, Emily will probably need an individual room for all the gifts her doting Mulder brings home, and she’ll proceed to move into our bedroom and end up sleeping in our bed every night.”
“Nope.” Mulder feigns a frown. “Sparkle here is it. I promise.”
From the way he is clutching onto her, Scully thinks that he’d rather lose his entire foot than break this promise.
23.
People make fun of him.
But he doesn’t care. After all, he is named Fox Mulder, and growing up with that name has shielded him from that particular type of harm.
“Is that what you got from your babysitting job, Mulder?” Langly laughs.
Mulder shoots him a dirty look. “Jealousy and envy, Virgin Boy?” He flaunts with an air of pride, “And it’s not babysitting when it’s your kid.”
Mulder pretends he doesn’t see the grins that appear on his friends’ faces. “And if you three play nice, I bet you’ll get one too.”
He’s talking about the bracelet, not the kid. Emily’s recently gotten the Beady Bunch 2000 at a carnival raffle, and she’s been busy making bracelets for all her favorite people. The first one Emily made says Scully and it’s for Mommy. The second bracelet is for Mulder, but it also says Scully in neon green letters, with two stars.
“Emmi, do you need help spelling my name?” Mulder whispers. He doesn’t know Emily already knows how to spell M-U-L-D-E-R; she learned it months ago.
“No,” the child answers loudly, her little fingers sorting the beads into a big plastic box with compartments. “I can spell Mulder, Mulder.”
“Then why does my bracelet say Scully?”
“Don’t you like it?”
Emily responds mischievously, reminding Mulder of something Sam did so long ago: his little sister in two braids singing in glee...
...and fox sittin’ in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!
“Sure I like it,” he quickly replies. “If I got Scully, how come Mommy didn’t get Mulder?”
“Mommy doesn’t need to get Mulder.”
Mulder contemplates too much and too seriously on the child’s response.
He soon discovers that he loves to have a Scully bracelet; it wouldn’t be the same if he had gotten a Mulder bracelet. It would be silly to wear a Mulder bracelet on his wrist. He feels so proud wearing a Scully bracelet. It’s a seal of approval. It’s his medal of honor. He wears it the moment Emily presents it to him, he studies the difference between his bracelet and Scully’s, he even wears it to bed that night, and Scully makes fun of him until he distracts her with his kisses.
He wears it to the market on the following day, wears it to the Gunmen to discuss important issues while eating pizza, and wears it to work when the weekend’s over.
“Are you sure…” Scully begins, and he shoots her a glance that meant end of discussion.
Mulder wears his bracelet to two budget meetings, and Scully has to bite the inside of her cheek when Skinner’s eyebrows shoot up as his sight lingers on Mulder’s wrist. She quickly reaches over and tucks the bracelet into his sleeve. After all, it does say Scully on it.
Emily is more than thrilled to see Mulder wearing the bracelet she gave him, but after a little talk with Mommy, she approaches the tall man after dinner.
“Mulder, I’m glad you like my bracelet.” Emily says diplomatically.
“Oh yeah, Baby Banana. I love it.” He smiles at the child. “Are you upset that Mommy doesn’t wear her bracelet?”
“No, Mommy’s is for her keys. She’s not supposed to wear hers. When I was making it, Mommy said she used to make friendship bracelets when she was little. So I decided to make one for you. But I think I’ll make you another one so your friends won’t make fun of you.”
“Honey, I don’t care if people make fun of me.” Mulder picks Emily up and puts her on his lap. “People can make fun of a lot of things.”
“Do you cry after?” She asks in her little voice.
“No.” Mulder displays the skill he’s mastered at the age of 8. “I don’t cry about silly things like that.”
“Mulder,” Emily touches his bracelet, “I’ll make you a new one from this one; I’ll make it extra better.”
“Thanks, Foxi.” He drops a kiss on top of the child’s head, and off she goes.
The next morning, Mulder gets one that says Mulder, and Emily hooks it onto his keys. He misses the Scully one, but he knows it’s probably for the best.
Three days later, he discovers that his little girl has finally gotten around to making one for herself. It says MOMMY + MULDER in banana yellow letters.
And Mulder tells himself that he doesn’t cry about silly things like that.
24.
“So,” Mulder says to the child in his arm, “when I kick open the door, what’s your line?”
“Fox Mulder, FBI!” The little girl answers with a giggle.
“No turkey sounds, please. Princess, let’s try again.” Mulder corrects her with a wink.
“Fox Mulder, FBI!” She hollers loud and clear.
“Very good. You all set to go?” He asks.
“Yep.” The answer comes with a very enthusiastic nod.
“Ready?” Mulder kicks a door open, and Emily says her line.
“Fox Mulder, FBI!”
Mulder kicks open another door behind him.
“Fox Mulder, FBI!”
He does not break the door; he hasn’t broken any door per se. The Gunmen has given them special headphones and planted a small device on the door. Whenever the door is touched at a certain spot, the device on the door will send a signal to the headphones, which play the sound as if the door has been kicked open. This is the technology that belongs to a video game for which they’ve recently become consultants.
“Now this door, we’re gonna say put your hands where I can see ‘em, kay?”
“O.K.!” The child grins.
“We’re gonna do it on three, okay? 1-2-3!”
Mulder kicks the double doors wide open, and Emily declares at the top of her lungs, “FOX MULDER, FBI, PUT YOUR HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE ‘EM!”
A wide-eyed Scully sits in the middle of her bed, wearing flannel pajamas and a big question mark on her face. She stares at her two doofuses.
“Mulder…?”
“Hi Mommy!” Emily waves at her.
“Hi, Baby. Why are you kicking my door?” She asks.
“I didn’t. Mulder’s the one doing the kicking.”
She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “Mulder?”
“We’re just…having some fun?” Mulder answers innocently. “Until Mommy says we can go out to play in the snow?”
“Fine,” Scully sighs, “You dress her and make sure she’s warm. If it starts to snow again, I want you two to come back in immediately. And Mulder, be careful.”
Scully is worried because Emily has just recovered from a flu, which has kept the child home for three days, which means she also missed work for three days, which means Mulder was in the office moping for three days. It was a miserable three days for all three of them.
“Yes, Ma’am!” The man runs gleefully with a child singing hooray with two arms in the air.
Scully hops off the bed and goes into the bathroom. She brushes her teeth while deciding what to make for a good snow-day breakfast. Oatmeal with apple slices and cinnamon? Tomatoey soupy sauce with star pasta? Blueberry pancakes? Maybe they can have leftover soup udon from last night as breakfast? That sounds nice.
Suddenly, the bathroom door swings open. “Fox Mulder, FBI!”
Scully takes her toothbrush out of her mouth and says with a mouth full of foam, “What…”
She spits and rinses her mouth, eyeing the tall man in a navy blue snow jacket and her baby in a white puffy coat. Scully’s eyebrows ask the question her mouth is too busy to ask.
“We want Mommy to come out and play in the snow too.” Emily pleads.
Scully looks at the two pairs of hopeful eyes, and she takes a look at the snowy world outside. “Alright, let me put something on really quick.”
She hurries to put on a pair of jeans while watching Emily, who’s sitting comfortably in Mulder’s arm, touch his forehead and nose with her tiny hand. Mulder’s face, relaxed, is full of smiles, but she sees that he’s looking directly at her. Scully, he mouths the word.
Did I adopt a 37-year-old along with the 3-year-old? Scully wonders while grabbing a green sweater.
She doesn’t need a mirror to tell her that the three of them have on matching grins that belong exclusively to fools in love.
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The little child comes running. “Mommy,” she asks sweetly, “Mommy, can you hold me?”
Scully lifts up her blanket and invites the child into her bed. “Can you hold me like a baby?” Emily requests.
“Okay.” Scully moves her daughter so that she’s lying in her lap. A few seconds go by, and Emily wiggles her body. “Mommy, lie down.”
Scully follows Emily’s instructions, and the child snuggles into her arms. Emily tries to fit in the space around her mother and Scully pats her back softly.
The child lies still for only a minute. Then, she climbs on top of her mother.
“Mommy.” She says, her voice heavy with sleep.
“Yes, Baby?”
“Mulder is not home.” Emily files her complaint.
“Yes, he is,” Scully chuckles. “He has to go out of town to see his mommy this weekend, so he is at home.”
“But he’s not home home with us.” Emily insists.
Scully strokes the soft hair on the child’s head. “No, he’s not home home with us.”
Emily tries her best not to pout and Scully wants to praise her for it. She knows how difficult it is for Emily to be a big girl when it comes to the Mulder department.
“I miss Mulder.”
“I know you do, Emily.” Scully soothes. “He’ll be back very soon, and I know he misses us too, he’s said so on the phone.”
Emily moves her head against her mommy’s chest. “Why am I not a Mulder?” She asks.
“Well,” Scully entertains the child. “You don’t want to be a Scully?”
“Yes, I do.”
They lie on the bed in silence for a while, and Scully thinks her child has fallen asleep.
“Mommy.” Nope, still awake.
Sometimes she wonders why Emily has so many traits and quirks that remind her of Mulder. Even the way they snuggle into her is the same, and she knows that it isn’t a learned behavior.
“Yes?”
“Why can’t Mulder be a Scully?” Emily wonders aloud.
“Well…” Scully considers the child’s words before answering. “Because Fox Scully sounds very silly. And if you say it very, very fast, what does it sound like?”
Emily tries it out by chanting Fox Scully as fast as she can. Fox Scully Fox Scully Fox Scully Fox Scully Fox Scully.
“It sounds like… a kind of pasta.” The little girl giggles. “Fusgalli!”
“What kind of pasta is Fus-ga-lli?” Scully laughs at Emily’s attempt to speak with an Italian accent.
“Hum…skinny?”
Scully agrees, “And we don’t want poor Mulder to be teased, do we, Koala?”
“No.”
“He can be Mulder Scully.” Emily suggests.
“Well, no, because there will be two Agent Scullys at the FBI, and Uncle Walter will have a very big headache about that. We don’t want Uncle Walter’s head to hurt, do we?”
Emily seriously considers whether she wants Mulder to be a Scully so badly that it would be okay for Uncle Walter’s head to hurt, and Scully files this under things to tell Mulder ASAP.
“Headache is bad.” Emily concludes compassionately. “But I wish he could be a Scully, too.”
“Come on, Baby, if you keep thinking about Mulder, his ears will burn so much that he won’t be able to sleep. The sooner you go to bed, the sooner you’ll see tomorrow.”
“Okay.” Finally, the child closes her eyes. Just when Scully is about to fall asleep, her phone vibrates softly, and she grabs it.
“Scully.”
“Scully, it’s me.” A pause.
“Mulder, you okay?” She glances at the clock. It’s 11:29 pm.
“Un-huh. I’m just calling to say that… I miss you and Baby Banana.”
“Alright, Skinny Noodles.” She laughs. “Were your ears burning?”
Reacting to a new term of endearment, Mulder’s laughter comes through the receiver. “A little. Why? Was I the hot topic before bed?”
“Maybe.” Scully answers. “It’s late, Mulder; the sooner you go to bed, the sooner you’ll see tomorrow.”
“Right.” He does sound sleepy, too. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Scully hangs up the phone; she figures that some things are better said in person anyways.
20.
“Mulder, you ready?” The child wiggles on his thighs happily.
“Uh-huh.”
“Alright. First page,” she smiles at him a little shyly. “This book be-belongs to…Emily Scully! That’s me.”
“Yep.”
“Mulder, what does ‘belong’ mean?” Curious big eyes are looking at him.
“It means ownership,” Mulder answers almost as a reflex.
“A ship? Like what John Smith rode to the New World to see Pocahontas?” The child’s eyes brighten as she draws a connection to the video she’s recently received from Grandma.
“No, not that kind of ship.” Mulder laughs. “This book belongs to you, so the book is yours. Or when someone is a part of something, like… Uncle Byers belongs to the Lone Gunmen because he is a member.”
“But Mulder doesn’t belong to the Lone Gunmen?” The child asks.
“That’s right, but I feel like I fit in, because your uncles welcome me, so I think both your mommy and I feel like we belong.”
Mulder scans his brain, checking to see if he’s left out any other meaning of the word. Guess it’s time to get a children’s dictionary.
“So, this book is mine, so it belongs to me.” Emily concludes.
“Yes, that’s right.” Mulder nods.
“And Mommy is mine, so Mommy belongs to me.” She goes on.
“Well, yes, but I usually think more like you belong to Mommy.” He chuckles.
“Mulder, do you belong to Mommy?” The child ponders aloud.
He smiles at the child’s question. “I sure am.”
“And Mommy belongs to you, too?”
“I hope so. I think so.”
“Do I belong to you?” Big-eyes here is hoping for a yes.
“Do you, Baby?” He says in a teasing tone.
“Yes!” She gives a very certain nod.
Suddenly, Emily is quiet for a while; her index finger is rubbing the Pooh Bear on the book.
“I’m dressed like Christopher Robin today,” she announces. “Yellow shirt. Blue pants.”
Mulder smirks in amusement. Dennis the Menace, Christopher Robin, he wonders where Scully’s getting these ideas when she shops for her daughter’s outfits.
“Mulder?”
“Yes, Baby Banana?”
“Belong means to be together for a long, long time, does it?”
He is not sure how to answer; he doesn’t know the etymology of the word, but he’s pretty sure Emily’s theory isn’t it. But…
“I like that. To be together for a long time is to belong.” He decides that will be his answer.
“I think I want you and me and Mommy to belong.” The child looks at him, her droopy eyes expectant.
Mulder has never known what this feeling is called, this warm and fuzzy feeling that makes him want to run away and dive right in at the same time.
“Me too,” he agrees.
“Are you ready?”
“Hum, ready for what?” He is lost, all of a sudden.
“To turn the page?”
“Yes, go right ahead, please.” He gathers the child a little closer to him, and she starts reading.
“Winnie-the-Pooh is go-ing to the…”
Are you ready, to belong? A solemn voice comes into Mulder’s mind.
He presses his cheek against the child’s soft hair and nod. Oh yes, I am.
21.
It’s a Kodak moment, that’s for sure.
She pads into the dimmed living room, with the TV off, the dinner dishes all put away, and her two babies zoned out on the couch.
Scully smiles and decides to get ready for bed before waking them up. The agreement has been that she and Mulder will not work on weekends, and if a case goes over into the weekend, they will take an equal number of weekdays off. Yet, it has been a special time, as several agents from the Forensic Lab begged her to step in and help since Agent Mitchell is on maternity leave and Agent Latoya is on his honeymoon…
Scully takes a relaxing shower and gets into her jammies. Rubbing lotion into her palm, she strolls over to the couch, ready to move her babies to bed. Emily first, and Mulder second.
She is glad that she does not need to tell Emily a bedtime story tonight, or worse, entertain her with a lullaby.
Her good luck is gone with the push of the child’s bedroom door and the hinges make a sound, waking the girl. “Mommy!” Emily yelps in delight, “You’re home!”
The little girl showers her with kisses, and Scully squeezes her little mini-me into the tightest embrace.
“Were you a good girl today, Emmi?” She says after giving her daughter a big kiss.
“Yes, Mommy.” The child nods, her head moving up and down excitedly. “I made sure Mulder ate all of his vegetables at dinner, and he only had one slice of pie.”
“Oh yea?” Scully says as she places the child into her bed, “What did you two do today?”
“I looked at the clock to see that Mulder didn’t watch more than 2 hours of TV, and we got some exercise.” The child pumps up her fist as to show her mother how fit she’s been getting. “I also took him to the park.”
“You took him to the park?”
“Yes, Mulder exercised today by becoming my car and I drove him to the park and back.” She grins mischievously. “He couldn’t put me down because I wasn’t wearing shoes.”
“Emily!” Scully mock-scolds her daughter. They have agreed that she will be wearing shoes whenever she is to leave the house.
“I made sure he drank plenty of water when we got home, and he helped me make sandwiches. We ate them with BBQ potatoes chips.”
“Sounds like fun, baby.” Scully smooths Emily’s hair. “Did you brush your teeth?”
Emily smiles, bearing all her pearl-white tiny baby teeth at her mother. “I made sure Mulder brushed for two minutes!”
Emily extends two fingers for emphasis. “We used the timer, too. Mulder is kissable. He said, Minty fresh!”
Emily’s Mulder voice results in both mother and daughter breaking out in a fit of giggles. The child’s imitation of Mulder’s playful expression is also spot-on.
“Well, thank you, honey.” Scully says, “Are you ready for a good night kiss?”
“Yes, Mommy.” The child adds sleepily, “I kept Mulder out of trouble today, Mommy.”
“Sounds like you did, baby.”
Scully kisses her daughter good night and turns off the light. She then walks back to the living room to deal with the sleeping log on the couch. She wishes that she had the strength to pick him up and deliver him to bed, too.
“C’mon, honey,” she coos. “Mulder, I’m home.”
“Hey.” He opens his eyes almost immediately, grinning at her openly, “Scully…”
Suddenly he sits up. “Where’s Emily!?”
“I tucked her in already.” She tugs him by his hand and pulls him up. “She gave me a rundown of your day. Sounds like fun; sorry I missed it.”
Mulder gives her a small peck on the temple. “Oh, you know, we always manage to have a good time when Mommy’s away…”
Mulder winks and begins, “I made sure we didn’t spend the whole afternoon staying in the house. We went to the park and ran a few laps. There were plenty of vegetables at dinner. We’re both clean and fed and very happy.”
He leans forward to put his head right next to hers, resting his chin on her shoulder. “And we both miss Mommy very much, so much that we each had a cherry popsicle from the ice cream truck at the park to ease our sorrow.”
“Emily didn’t tell me that.”
Mulder presses his lips into a thin line. “Oh, she didn’t? Well, it was very cherry and very red, almost like your lips…” He moves closer to kiss her again. “Tastes just as sweet.”
“I’m ready for bed,” she confesses softly.
“Yes, I have been waiting to tuck you in.” Mulder says with a yawn, “since I didn’t get to tuck our baby in tonight.”
She lets him pull her into the bedroom. Mom’s right, Scully thinks, they’re both convinced that they’re babysitting the other person. She’ll just have to keep this little fact to herself for now.
With a smile, Scully lies on the bed, allows herself to be tucked in by Mulder, and closes her eyes.
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They have been stuck in traffic for about 20 minutes. They’re heading to pick Mulder up, she and her daughter, and hopefully they’ll be able to make their reservation at Kee Hwa’s by 6:30pm.
Her daughter is playing with a plastic figurine, and from her animated expressions, Scully suspects that Emily’s imagination is running on high with the tiny rabbit as the heroine in her made-up world.
Her daughter is a bright child. Mulder has said so, but it isn’t like he’s the expert on child development. Her mother has said so, too, but Emily is her first grandchild, and it has been a very long time since her family has had a toddler’s presence. The first time her mother saw Emily, she asked if the child was potty trained. So, Scully doesn’t think her mother really remembers much from her child-rearing days.
Their friend Danny has adopted a boy who’s a year older than Emily, but Scully doesn’t want to compare. Mulder and Danny talk about their children as if they are children themselves; their conversations are filled with silly brags and boasts. Emily can eat a whole bowl of mac and cheese by herself. Emily is learning to ride a bike without training wheels. Emily can ride the teacup without throwing up. Geordie likes bell peppers. Geordie is learning the piano.
Scully wonders when will Mulder say to Danny, my kid is better than your kid.
Mulder recently heard from god-knows-where that a little child got lost at the mall and could recite her mother’s cell phone number, so he’s been nagging about having Emily memorize theirs ASAP.
“Emmie Honey,” Scully calls, her eyes looking at the backseat through the rearview mirror, “What’s Mommy’s phone number?”
“555-3564.” Emily answers in a heartbeat. She knows it.
“And our home number?”
“555-643….1?” Emily doesn’t sound as certain, but she gets it right too.
“And Mulder’s number?”
“555-3574!” Her daughter’s always happy to talk about Mulder, Scully thinks with a smile.
“Very good.” Scully praises, “Grandma told me you wowed her with spelling the other day. You wanna wow me too?”
The little child dangles her feet in her seat happily. “Yes. I can spell Emily. It’s E-M-I-L-Y.”
“Anything else?”
“S-I—no, start over.” She giggles. “S-C-U-L-L-Y. That’s you!”
“That’s us.” Scully corrects.
“Oh. Right.” Emily nods embarrassingly. “Mulder calls you Scully.”
“Yes, baby, but he also calls me Dana.”
“My name has eleven letters.” Emily says. “Mommy, can you teach me how to spell Mulder’s name?”
“Sure.” She looks up in the mirror and sees Emily’s excited face. How can anyone like Mulder this much? Scully wonders. “It’s M-U-L-D-E-R.”
“M-U-L-D-E-R. Mulder, M-U-L-D-E-R. M-U-L-D-E-R.” Those little feet in red sneakers are still kicking and dancing in the air. “And Fox? Can you spell Fox?”
“F-O-X.”
“But Mommy, that’s the animal!” Emily exclaims through giggles.
“Yes, Baby. Mulder’s first name is Fox, like the animal.”
Emily’s eyes grow wide and her grin wider. “Like fox fox?”
“Yep, like fox fox.”
Scully wishes Mulder were in the car to witness this.
“Mommy,” Emily says after a little silence. “Can I sing you a song?”
“Please do.” Scully is happy that Emily can carry a tune better than she can. Emily breaks out in a song happily, and with a matching grin, Scully sings along with her. Being stuck in traffic has never been so fun, Scully thinks. “Emmie, will you sing this song with me for Mulder later?”
“Okay.” The child promises gladly. “Mommy, there he is! Do you see him?”
Emily waves, and continues to wave at him even after Mulder gets into the passenger seat.
“Hey,” Mulder greets and leans closer to Scully for a kiss. “Bad traffic, huh.”
He puts his seat belt on and turns to high-five the little girl. “Baby Banana, you’ve been doing your job keeping your mommy happy in traffic?”
“Yep.”
Scully glances at the rearview mirror again and meets her daughter’s eyes.
“Mulder, Mommy and I want to sing you a song.” Emily proposes.
Mulder’s eyes do not hide his amusement. “Oh? I’m all ears, baby.”
Emily bites her lower lip and flashes her favorite person a toothy grin. “There was a farmer who had a fox and Mulder was his name-o, M-U-L D-E-R, M-U-L D-E-R, M-U-L D-E-R, and Mulder was his name-o.”
“Hey! I know this song!” Mulder exclaims.
The car is filled with giggles and laughs, and the maître d’ at Kee Hwa’s never understands why a family of three can wear such joyous grins on their faces.
17.
“Mulder,” the little child looks up at him, presenting one box of Band-Aids in each hand. “Which one?”
“Oh, bunny, you really don’t need to do that for me.” He smiles and winces at the shooting pain around his lips. “But thank you.”
“No.” Emily is just as stubborn as Scully, and Mulder wants to laugh at that. “Pick.”
“But they’re your favorite. I’ll just wait for Mommy to get the regular Band-Aids from the pharmacy.” He rubs the little girl’s shoulder. “I’ll be fine. Here, wanna watch some TV with me?”
Mulder leans back into the big armchair. He hasn’t gotten as badly banged up for a while. The case they’ve just wrapped up was another one for the books; talking trees, flying cats, and the strange maple syrup scent witnesses kept talking about still haunt him a little. Good thing that Scully wasn’t harmed at all, and when they picked Emily up from Mrs. Scully’s home, Emily screamed upon seeing Mulder’s badly wounded face with the scratches from the tree branches and cat paws, and pleaded with her mother that he must stay with them so they can take care of him.
Mulder knows the little girl likes him. She’s caring and compassionate just like Scully, and he is always comforted seeing his girls happily together.
Scully has to run to the store, leaving the two of them in the living room. His body aches all over, and he just wants to have a quiet evening, watch some TV, have dinner, and sleep with Scully in his arms.
“Mulder,” Emily whines to get his attention. “Please. I don’t share these with anyone, just with you and Mommy.”
A tender feeling creeps into Mulder’s heart as Emily encourages him to choose those Band-Aids she got as a special gift from Grandma Maggie. Mrs. Scully got these collectible tin boxes of Pooh Bear Band-Aids and Snoopy Band-Aids for Emily the first time she slept over at Grandma’s. Emily loves them so much that she refuses to use them, and carries them with her until Scully points out that if she loses them, she’ll never find them again. Even as Maggie announces more than once, I’ll just replace them if they are lost or used up, Scully still doesn’t want Emily to bring them to school, and Emily still doesn’t want to use them on her scraped knees.
Just like you. Mulder mouths the words to Scully and gets a smack on the head whenever Emily refuses to use her special Band-Aids, opting instead to use the ugly grown-up ones with a small pout.
“Emily, sweetie,” Mulder picks her up and places her on his knees. “Mommy already cleaned the wound for me, and she says they’re fine. We can just leave it, really.”
“Mommy says when there’s a cut, you need to cover it so it doesn’t get dirty.” Emily puts forth her best Scully expression: “I can do it for you.”
“Bunny, you’re too short.” Mulder laughs and she frowns.
“Am not!” She gets up from his lap and climbs onto the armrest of the armchair. “I like the Snoopy one for you.”
Emily opens the yellow tin box and quickly selects one of the Band-Aids, a white one with several Woodstocks on it.
“This will not hurt,” she promises, “so don’t move.”
It takes Emily a while, and Mulder steadies her by holding her in place as she stands on the armrest.
“All better.” She declares after kissing the covered cut.
Having finally convinced Mulder, the little girl smiles contentedly and plants herself on his lap with him as a human backrest.
“Thank you, Dr. Scully.” Mulder teases her.
“Uh-huh.” The child acknowledges, “You’re welcome, Mulder.”
18.
The sound of the doorknob turning gets him on his feet almost immediately. He’s been waiting for hours.
The old Fox Mulder would think that he’s pathetic—they’ve only been apart for less than 10 hours, but he is so excited to see Scully at this moment that he doesn’t care what the old Fox Mulder says.
The old Fox Mulder doesn’t know the happiness he knows.
He walks over to stand next to her, watching her take off her coat and smiling as he waits for her kiss.
“I miss you.”
Mulder can count on one hand the times they’ve kissed in the office. He once thought that after Scully adopted Emily, they’d no longer have any leverage left at all. He now knows his priority well, and things just fall into place like they do.
And that mindset brings him to Scully’s apartment every night, where he has dinner and spends quality time with big and little Scully. He hasn’t gone home for two weeks; even Frohike jokes that he should start the paperwork on adopting his Mollys.
Mulder stands by one of the filing cabinets and watches Scully pull out a Tupperware. She hands the container over, eyes twinkling with mirth.
“What’s this?” He tilts his head slightly to the left. “Breakfast?”
“A little present from our girls’ night.” Scully replies.
Mulder opens the Tupperware with a loud pop. “Gingerbread men?” His sounds confused.
“No, they are iced sugar cookies.” She takes one out to show him. “Does his wardrobe remind you of anyone?”
Mulder looks at each of the little men-shaped cookies, donning blue pants and black or gray tops. “Aw, Scully, did you miss me so much?” He teases.
“No, actually, my daughter begged my mother to make some cookies for Mulder because he can’t come to the girls’ night, and they wanted to get these fox cookie cutters. We went to three different mega hobby stores and two small baking supply shops around Baltimore. Emily was crying at the last store, while two very nice old ladies dug out all the cookie cutters they have for us, swearing that they’ve seen one before.”
“No luck, huh?” He looks at her tenderly.
“No, so I finally convinced Emily that we could just make Mulder cookies instead of Fox cookies, and icing them according to your wardrobe really got her mind off her disappointment.” She presses her lips together in a dear smile. “The disappointment of a 4-year-old is more monumental than I thought.”
Scully brings a cookie to his lips, and he takes a bite. Mulder always believes that it’s a pity Mrs. Scully does not own a bakery.
“How was last night?”
“You mean how was going to every hobby shop in town with the Fox Mulder Fan Club and spending my entire evening listening to how great Mulder is while eating broken pieces of sugar cookies for dinner?”
Mulder feels like his heart has swelled up so much that if he didn’t know better, he’d schedule himself for an appointment with a cardiologist.
“I’ll make it up to you, Scully.” He takes her hand and squeezes it. “Now, this Fox Mulder Fan Club you just mentioned, have you considered… becoming a member yourself?”
Scully brings his hand to her lips for a kiss. “You’re speaking to the President here, Mulder.”
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thanks for reading. tagging @today-in-fic & @mulderscreek, thanks.
Summer is over, and so they are all on sale: the kiddie pools and the water guns and the 300-count of tiny but very necessary ammo for a good water-balloon fight. Mulder completely forgets what he was supposed to get at the drugstore.
“Mulder,” Emily, his little princess, his precious baby riding on his shoulder, tugs a little on his right ear, indicating that she wants to go right. “What are those?” She asks.
“Those are pool noodles, Foxi.” He charges over to the colorful display and the markdown price stand. “Or are you asking about the pool shoes?”
“The noodles.” She places her head on top of his. “What do we do with them?”
When Emily’s adoption was finalized last year, it was nearly September, and summer was coming to an end. This year, Mulder and Scully have been making good efforts in taking their little piglet to the beach all summer long. They even have a bag full of beach essentials like baby powder and lots of sunscreen lotion in the trunks of both their cars, just so they can go to the beach at the drop of a hat—and they do—but people don’t take pool noodles to the beach.
“Um, I think people use them to…” To what? Mulder is lost. To fight? To float? To flaunt at the other kids who go to the pool with no pool noodles?
“…to play, I guess. Should we get some?”
“But summer’s over.”
Mulder chuckles. This one is Scully’s daughter, alright.
“Yeah, and if we get them now, we don’t need to get them next year.” He thinks that this makes sense; it makes perfect sense.
“Good idea.” Emily agrees. “A purple one?”
“Purple, okay.” Now which one is purple…? “Emily, why don’t you pick the color you like?”
Mulder leans his shoulders closer to the colorful swimming pool noodles, and the child grabs a bright-colored one.
“This one?” Mulder asks. “Wanna get two?”
“Nope.” She shakes her head. “Just one, in case Mommy gets angry.”
“Mommy’s not gonna get angry.” Mulder promised. Not very much anyways, he hopes.
“Spooky!” A deep voice suddenly calls out, and Mulder turns to see a grinning man no other than the annoying Special Agent Tom Colton. “And who’s this? This is Scully’s little tyke?”
“Hi, Agent Colton.” Mulder greets, hoping Emily will not ask why the man just called him Spooky. “Emily, say hi to Mr. Colton.”
“Hi, Mr. Colton.” Emily greets in a tiny voice and hides her face in Mulder’s hair.
“You’re babysitting?! Or just playing Mr. Mom?” Colton sneers, and Mulder wonders why he’s even wasting his breath with the likes of him.
“Nope, just here to get some pool noodles.”
“You enjoy the slice of domesticity?
Mulder hesitates for a nanosecond, “Of course.”
“Mulder,” Emily tugs on his ears urgently, indicating that she wants to go home now.
Mulder removes the child from his shoulders and holds her in his arms. “Baby, let’s go home.”
“No Daddy, Spooky?” Colton mutters under his breath. Mulder decides to just walk away. Just walk away. Some people will always be a jerk.
He takes two steps before changing his mind. He’s getting his baby girl some pool noodles. To hell with Colton, Mulder thinks.
“Emily, why don’t we get two? A purple one and this one.” Mulder grabs one that looks like a nice color to him. “Have a good afternoon, Colton.”
Mulder gives a slight nod and walks toward the cash register. Without noticing how it had happened, the pool noodle in Emily’s hands swings right into Colton’s head. Colton ducks, but like a bad slapstick comedy scene, he gets swung in the head, twice.
Mulder can’t help but laugh. “Sorry, man.”
He hurries to the register, pays for his purchase, and exits the drugstore with a little girl in his arms, who’s holding two pool noodles horizontally.
“Sorry, Mulder.” Emily giggles.
“It’s fine, Foxi,” he pats the child’s back reassuringly. “We don’t need to get whatever we came here to get; I don’t remember what it was anyway. If Mommy says anything, we’ll just tell her the truth.”
“You mean we’ll tell her that I wasn’t nice and hit your friend from work?” Emily confesses.
“Emily!” Mulder exclaims. “I thought you were apologizing for wanting to go home.”
She shakes her head. “He wasn’t very nice. And I know hitting is not nice, but I don’t think it’ll hurt.”
Mulder thinks for a few seconds and remembers that he is a Daddy now. Oh, yes, he is.
“Baby, we’re going to go in and apologize to Colton.”
Emily nods determinedly, and they hurry back into the store, catching Colton still standing at the end-of-summer sale area.
“Mr. Colton, I’m sorry for hitting you.” Emily holds onto Mulder as if Colton were a T-Rex.
“Don’t worry about it, Kiddo.” Colton seems surprised to see them again, but accepts the apology. “I didn’t feel a thing.”
“So can I hit you again?” Emily asks, and Mulder bursts out laughing.
“C’mon, Foxi, Mommy’s waiting.” He pats the child gently on her back and gives a slight nod to the other man.
“Mulder,” Colton calls, and he turns, being careful so that Emily wouldn’t accidentally hit Colton again. “You make a good daddy, Spooky.”
Mulder and Emily head out of the store again, feeling happy and silly with the pool noodles in their arms.
“Mulder,” Emily says to him softly; she’s all smiles and giggles. “Am I Spooky, too?”
Mulder suddenly recalls her question of asking Colton if she can hit him again, and more happiness fills his heart. He rubs his cheek against her face and nods. Spooky’s daughter and him, yep.
14.
Mulder’s never been to one of these. He’s almost certain that his schools did not call it open house, which, in real estate terms, means something very different from what Emily’s school is trying to accomplish this evening.
The flyer promises choir and dance performances, it promises snacks and beverages, and a chance to meet Emily’s teachers. Even the lunch ladies will be making an appearance tonight—as guests of honor, of course. Some moms from the PTA fought to sign up to serve the refreshment tonight.
Things are definitely very different from what he remembers, back when he was a child.
Mulder looks forward to putting some faces with the names Emily’s been mentioning since she started school in September. He’s excited to meet some of her little friends, too, Michelle and Elaine, Jessy with the Y, and Big Mike.
Just how big a kid would have to be to be called Big Mike in preschool? He wonders.
For the whole afternoon, he’s been thinking about his father. Bill Mulder. Did he ever care to attend one of these things for him and Sam? Or were they just for the ladies back in the day? What does one wear to things like these? Does he bring a gift to the teacher or would that look like a bribe? What’s the need to bribe a preschool teacher?
Those are the questions in Mulder’s mind as he tries on three different outfits. He’s forgotten to ask what Scully would wear. Are they going casual? Are they going chic? Are they going like FBI agents who were so busy that they had no time to go home and change but by God nothing will stop them from being there for their baby girl?
He settles on polo and slacks and tennis shoes, and feels a little like a fish out of water.
“Did you borrow your clothes from Uncle Bill?” Emily comments when she sees him, and Mulder feels like he’s made the right choice. He wants to look like a sensible man tonight.
Thank God Scully is not dressed like Aunt Tara.
Scully clearly looks nervous. She’s holding his hand a little tighter than usual, and somehow, Scully’s nervous energy calms him a bit.
“Don’t worry, honey.” He murmurs softly when they exit the car. “Everyone here is just as clueless as we are, I bet.”
With Emily in his arms—because she has insisted on wearing the princess slippers Grandma had gotten her for Halloween and doesn’t want to dirty them yet—the three of them approach the school’s big red gate.
Scully grabs the door handle and jiggles it. “It’s locked.”
Puzzled, Mulder digs out the flyer from his sports jacket. “It says today.”
“Are we too early?” Emily asks.
“Let me see the flyer, Mulder.” Scully takes the piece of paper from his hand. “The date is tomorrow.”
“Oh.” Oops, “we can still go in.”
His suggestion excites the little Scully but makes the big Scully frown.
“Mulder, I’m not breaking into a school with my daughter.”
“C’mon, Scully. There’s only us.”
“No! We’ll come back tomorrow night.”
Emily rests her head on Mulder’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Mulder. This is just like a dry run.”
“A dry run?” He’s impressed that his child knows such a term.
“Yes. We did some dry runs already, in case some of the kids get too nervous and cry when the stage lights hit them.”
“Let’s go home.” Scully tugs his elbow. “We’ll come back tomorrow.”
Somehow, Mulder feels a little disappointed. He realizes how much he has been looking forward to this. His first of many open houses with his daughter. It makes him feel like… life is normal.
“We can salvage this,” he advocates.
“We’re not breaking in anywhere.” Scully warns, though her expression is soft and open to persuasion.
“Why don’t we be… normal people tonight?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, I got all dressed up like Bill. You’re wearing a dress. Baby Banana’s wearing her princess slippers. We look the part, and we can certainly act the part for one night.”
“I…” It takes Scully a few seconds as she picks the words she wants carefully. “I don’t know what normal people typically... do?”
“Emmie,” he asks, “what did your other mommy and daddy do when you guys went out?”
“For something special?” The child’s eyes grow big.
“Nah, just… What did they usually do? Maybe on a Friday night or something?”
“Mommy takes me to Wendy’s to get dinner and we pick Daddy up from work and we drive somewhere kinda far for a picnic.” Emily smiles sweetly, clearly happy in reliving her memory.
Scully smooths the hair on the back of her daughter’s head. “Did you guys do that every Friday?”
The child shakes her head no. “Only a few times only.”
“Hey Mommy,” Mulder nudges Scully, “you feel like a picnic tonight? 'Cause I know just the place to go. We’ll just get my car washed and we can sit on the hood.”
Scully looks at him and smiles. “Yeah, that sounds like fun, doesn’t it, Emi?”
Clapping, the girl puts her arms around Mulder’s neck and holds him close.
They head back toward the parking lot.
“I don’t feel like Wendy’s. Can we do Plato’s?” Scully proposes. “Mac and cheese, chestnut stuffing, zucchini casserole, grilled mushrooms… broccoli salad?”
“Yes!” Emily approves.
Mulder nods in agreement as he strolls back to the car with his family, catching a glimpse of their reflection from the side of his vehicle. He thinks being one of the regular folks looks good on all three of them.
15.
“Mulder, did you have a nightmare last night?” The little girl asks while leaning against him.
“No, baby, I slept well. What about you? Did you get a nightmare last night?” He touches one of her pigtails. “Mommy did this or Grandma did it?”
“Grandma did.” Emily tilts her head left and right proudly, and Mulder finds it utterly adorable. “I also had a good night.”
It’s another relaxing Saturday morning. Maggie has been offering to have Emily over for Friday nights so her daughter and Mulder can spend some alone time. They’ll have the whole Friday night and Saturday morning to themselves, and typically have lunch or an early dinner at Maggie’s.
This weekend, however, Maggie has offered to have Emily over for the whole weekend rather than just Friday night. So, Grandma comes super early in the morning and plans to take Emily to the zoo. The two Scully women are gathering some things for their baby’s trip. Scully’s been looking for a bottle of sunscreen everywhere, and while the two ladies are in Emily’s room, Mulder chooses to spend some time with his favorite little person.
“Here Em,” Mulder picks Emily up in his arms. “Do you know how to dance?”
The little child giggles as Mulder waltzes her left and right in the air, with one arm holding her waist. “You’re very good at this, young lady.”
“No,” Emily laughs, “Mommy is good at everything.”
“Yes, she is.” Mulder agrees. If there was ever going to be a Dana Scully Fan Club, here are the president and the vice-president dancing in the living room.
“Try this.” He places Emily on his feet, and they dance without music.
“Does Mommy also stand on your feet when you dance with her?” She asks.
Mulder gives a hearty laugh. “Bunny, your mommy is not very tall, but she is not that short.”
He feels silly but he doesn’t care. “So, did you learn anything new at school?”
“The planets.” Emily replies. “The sun, and the moon, and the Earth.”
She points her finger toward her room. “Mommy is the Sun. You’re the Moon, and I’m the Earth.”
“Wait, they taught you that at school?” Mulder is puzzled.
“No. Mommy is the sun because her name is Scully. You’re the moon because your name is Mulder. And I’m Emily, so I’m the Earth.”
“Hum, I think you’re right.” Mulder nods reassuringly. “Your mommy is the center of my universe, and you, my dear,” he says as he kisses the darling little girl on her temple, “pull me to spin around you.”
“Huh?” His words have clearly gone over her head, and he laughs at her cute confused face.
“Never mind, baby.” He picks the child up again, suddenly remembering something: “Why did you ask if I had a nightmare last night?”
“Because I heard you calling Mommy’s name, really loud, and it sounded scary.”
Oh dammit. Mulder closes his eyes briefly, feeling the heat on his cheek.
“It’s okay, Mulder.” The child pats his shoulder as an attempt to comfort him. “I get nightmares sometimes too.”
He squeezes the baby girl tight in his embrace. “Thank you, sweetie.”
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thanks for reading. tagging @today-in-fic & @mulderscreek, thanks.
“Mommy, Mommy! Here!” In Mulder’s arms, Emily waves at her frantically. “Happy Balentines Day! We got you flowers.”
The little girl is eager to present the bounty she has been holding in her lap on the way home from their excursion. The friendly bouquet carries all of Emily’s excitement, and the child feels important as she is the bearer of a gift that she’s helped select and has been protecting for the entire duration of the car ride home.
Today, she gets to gift her mother flowers—from a shop—for the very first time.
Mulder places Emily on the floor, and the little rugrat runs to give her mother a hug. “This is our bresent for you. Mulder got you...”
She forgets the name of the white flower, and Scully helps her, “Calla lilies, baby. These are called Calla lilies.”
Emily presents a small Shasta daisy from her pocket. “I got a flower too.”
“Oh, did Mulder get it for you?”
Emily looks up at her mother, and a gleam of mischievousness flits by in her eyes. "Yes. No. It’s for you. It looks like a fried egg. Sunny-side up!”
“Aren’t I the lucky girl, getting flowers from both my loves.” Scully plants a kiss on Emily’s cherubic face and extends her hand toward the tall man standing by the stairs. “Thank you, Mulder.”
Seeing her mother kissing Mulder, Emily starts to giggle and turns away. However, she is suddenly hit with worries. “Mommy, do you love Mulder?”
The two grown-ups stop kissing, and both take a step back. Concern is written all over Emily’s pretty little face.
“Of course I do, Baby. Why do you ask?”
Emily is at the stage that she likes Mulder so much that she wants everyone in her life to like Mulder too. Seemingly satisfied with her mother’s answer, she looks up to see the grinning man standing near her. A strange feeling rises in her, and she quickly asks again, “Mommy, do you love Mulder more than you love me?”
Unprepared for such a question, Scully opens her mouth, and words come only later: “It’s a different love, Em. Love is not something you compare.”
Mulder bends down to pick Emily up and places her on his shoulders; he knows the little girl loves being taller than everybody else. “Told you that she’d have a different answer.” He mutters to the child.
Scully’s eyes grow wide.
“Did she ask you the same question?” She asks Mulder.
He nods with a sheepish smile. “Banana here wants me to like her mommy, but is afraid that I’d like her mommy more than I like her.”
“I’m not a banana!” The child squeals gleefully as Mulder tickles her calves.
“And how did you answer?” Scully looks up at the two of them, trying her best to keep her amusement in check.
“The truth, Scully.” Mulder stands with his legs apart to kiss his beautiful partner on the lips, “and nothing but the truth.”
“And which truth is that?”
“That I love Mommy the most, and I’m more in love with her every day.” He answers in an honest and low voice, “But baby banana here is catching up; she’s running a close second.”
A smile creeps up Scully’s face. “Well, in that case...” She takes a step back from the two of them. “I guess I better start running!”
Scully begins running toward her bedroom, and Mulder follows her closely with Emily on his shoulders. Laughing ever so heartily, Scully playfully falls onto the mattress as both Mulder and Emily reach to hug her. Surrounded by pillows and blankets, the three of them hold onto each other like a human snowball.
Oh, Happy Balentine’s Day, indeed.
11.
“So, when can we start?” The little girl asks him.
“Whenever you want me to, Shorty.” Mulder chuckles.
“Now.”
“Now?” His eyes widened.
“Yes, Mulder. Now, pleeease?” Emily has recently learned the special, magical power of saying please, which works especially well on Mulder.
“Alright.”
The little girl grins victoriously, her face all bright and happy. “When will Mommy be ready?”
Mulder decides to pick up the child and walk around the corridor. Granted that Scully’s been telling him Emily has passed the age of needing to be carried everywhere, he just loves carrying her in his arms. When he carries her, she always puts her head on his shoulder and stays so still, and Mulder feels intoxicated.
‘Mul-der.” She speaks next to his ear. “Why are you Mulder?”
“What do you mean, Baby?”
“Why aren’t you Uncle Mulder?” She clarifies. “Uncle Bill says he is Uncle Bill, and I can’t call him Bill like Mommy does.”
“Oh,” Mulder thinks for a second, “that’s because when I met you, your mommy said that I’m Mulder, so I’m Mulder. Had she say I’m Uncle Mulder then I guess I’m Uncle Mulder.”
“Oh.” Emily considers his answer for a moment. “I thought it was because you’re Mommy’s special friend.”
“Am I?” He looks the child in the eyes.
“Yes. Mommy told me that you two are special friends, so you sleep over and have breakfast with us and showers at our home. She says there’s nothing wrong with your bathroom at home.”
“Yes, bunny, there’s nothing wrong with my bathroom at home.” Mulder says through a smile.
“Why do you need to go home? Can’t you just live with us?” The child asks again.
“Well, because of my Mollys. They’ll get really hungry if I never go home.” He has to search high and low for a reasonable excuse; he also wonders why he needs to go home sometimes.
“Mollys are welcome to come live with us, too.”
Mulder recalls that every time Emily’s been to his apartment, her forehead is glued to the glass of his fish tank.
“Thanks for the invite; I’ll really consider it.” He shifts her a little higher and glances at the clock on the wall. Scully should be wrapping up soon.
“So, I can have your name for a whole week?”
He chuckles at her silly request. “Sure. I’ll lend you my name for one week. For free, just because I love you.”
“Okay.” The little girl smiles like she’s won the whole world, and he can’t help but match her smile too. “When Mommy comes, I’ll tell her: Hi, I’m Fox Mulder.”
“You think Mommy will be okay with that?”
“Of course,” the little girl in his arms turns to face the door of the laboratory, anticipating for her mommy to walk out any minute. “Of course she will. She loves Fox Mulder.”
He can’t help but grin at that.
“But what will she do with two Fox Mulders for a week?” He teases.
“She’ll be very, very happy.”
The door opens, and Emily squeals in Mulder’s arms. “Mommy! We’re here!”
Scully hurries over to the two of them and reaches to kiss her daughter. Mulder waits patiently to kiss her.
“Mommy, Mommy,” the child says with her arms still around Mulder’s neck. She knows that her mommy thinks she’s getting too old to be carried around, but Mulder will carry her for the whole day without ever putting her down. She doesn’t even need to put on shoes if she’s spending the day with him.
“Mommy, hi Mommy, I’m Fox Mulder.”
Emily extends a chubby hand for Scully to shake.
“You are?” Scully shakes her hand. Raising one of her eyebrows, she says in an amused tone. “Well, sweetie, if you’re Fox Mulder, who’s this friendly gentleman?”
“He is also Fox Mulder. We’re both Fox Mulder. Foxes Mulder. No, Fox Mulders.” The child answers.
“What’s this about?” Scully asks Mulder in a low voice as they start walking towards the parking lot, and he answers with a shoulder shrug.
“Why are you Mulder, sweetie?” Scully asks her daughter.
“It’s for April 28th. Mr. Causey says that is called getting into character.”
“Oh, that.” A huge grin appears on Scully’s face. “Yes, sure you are, Mr. Fox Mulder.”
The child puckers up her lips and moves her head in front of Scully’s face, searching to kiss her on the lips: “I’ll kiss you like Mulder, too.”
Scully laughs as she accepts the kiss and opens the car door to strap Emily into her booster seat. Mulder stands behind her, waiting to give her the proper hug and kiss he’s been wanting to give her.
Scully turns around and embraces Mulder while whispering in his ear, “April 28th is the day everyone at school will dress up as their favorite superheroes and be him or her for the day.”
She plants a kiss squarely on his lip as he continues to look stunned. “Mulder?”
He squeezes her tightly in his arms and hides his face in her hair. “I...I need a minute, Scully.”
The little Fox-Mulder-wannabe sits in her booster seat, watching the two grown-ups hugging outside, and wonders which one of her stuffed animals is best suited to be her Dana Scully for April 28th.
12.
Fox Mulder has never had a camera. He’s all about putting together a fantastic slideshow for Scully; he once laughed for a good five minutes when Scully suggested that he make a slideshow presentation for Skinner. He’s surprised that she doesn’t know he only makes those slideshows for her.
Mulder toys with the crime scene camera every chance he’s got. He uses it to snap a few pictures of Scully. He buys the photo lab technicians lunch sometimes and they’ll always deliver the photos as well as the negatives to him and not her. It’s their little secret.
Oh, the things Scully never knows.
Mulder gets his first camera in San Diego. An impulse buy, he realizes as he talks to the kid who looks like he can’t even drink legally, at the camera and camcorder section of a Best Buy near Bill Jr.’s house. The kid talks him out of buying a camcorder and suggests a camera close to 250 dollars after the post-Christmas discount. Mulder says yes to the $29.99 warranty. It runs on special batteries that he doesn’t seem to find anywhere but Target. Mulder gets into the habit of grabbing some batteries every time he shops there. The little thing costs 7 or 8 bucks and lasts about two film rolls.
He buys the film in bulk, Kodak Ultramax 400, shelling out 75 bucks at a time, and he doesn’t care about wasting films. He takes snapshots after snapshots of his Dana and his Baby Banana, capturing everyday moments like eating pancakes, going to the park, and brushing their teeth. Mulder documents moments like Emily’s first plane ride and the first time his pretty partner and her little angel sleep together in a big chair with their cheeks pressed together. He takes seven photos while praying the shutter sounds won’t wake them up.
Mulder thinks of the credit card commercial. The camera, 281 dollars and 66 cents. The warranty, 29 dollars and 99 cents. The films, multiples of 75 dollars. The batteries, another multiples of 7 dollars and change. The double prints, 8 dollar and 57 cents each roll….
Looking at Baby Banana working on a school project with an ocean of photos on the dining table, priceless.
There are some things money can’t buy. For everything else there’s Masterc….
Fox Mulder’s also never had this many airline miles before. While he respects Scully—and her financial choices—he also knows that the adoption process has left a gigantic dent in her bank account. So, he buys their flights to San Diego and back, telling her he’s got a super travel agent that always gets those crazy, last-minute deals, and charging them up with his plastic, which soon becomes platinum after the 16 round-trip flights between him and Scully. Since there are no direct flights to San Diego, whether it’s a layover in Charlotte Douglas International, Dallas-Fort Worth International, Chicago O’Hare, Philly, or Phoenix, Mulder tells Johnny the travel agent to book it for me and the lady. One round trip earns him an average of 4,700 miles, so Mulder accumulated over 80,000 rewards miles when the adoption was final. He also receives 50,000 bonus miles for his flight purchases, along with Emily’s car seat, a tricycle, which was soon replaced by a bicycle with training wheels, and finally a big red bike with a matching helmet and a blue basket.
Those sneakers that blink and have Pooh Bear on top are another 30 bucks. Helmet, knee pads, and all the other protective gear Emily always forgets to put on unless Mommy is looking are another 45 dollars. The three bikes knock him back about 280 dollars. The flights averaged about 600 big ones. But being able to tell Johnny to book it for me, the lady, and the little one? Priceless.
There are some things money can’t buy. For everything else there’s Master….
Right?
Fox Mulder’s never had a little girl before. He is sure that all fathers his age spoil their children rotten, especially if they’ve got one as cute as his. Mulder’s positive that fathers everywhere order three or four entrees because baby says I can’t decide. He’s convinced that airports have shops because parents buy children gifts when they’re traveling. Why else would you sell a stuffed seal at Hudson News? Mulder’s also certain that all fathers know their daughters’ favorite color (orange), favorite Disney character (Thumper), favorite “Japanese” mascot (Pom Pom Purin), and favorite bedtime stories (Corduroy) by heart. And of course, it is every father’s duty to buy their piglets a basketball jersey and a baseball cap so they’ll know which teams to root for. (It’s the Knicks and the Yankees for Baby Banana, of course.)
If Scully had never pointed it out to him, Mulder would never have known that he spends close to 300 dollars a month on average on little things for the 4-year-old.
“Mulder, this is not the right way to raise a child.” Scully reasons. “And Emily will be happy to see you, every time, even when you come bearing no gifts. You don’t need no Pom Pom Purin. You got something from Emily that no money in the world can buy.”
Mulder thinks of all the pictures, taken by his mental camera, all the smiles and pouts, with Emily and her mamma, Emily and her grandmama, Emily with her uncles. Her first day of preschool, her first time seeing koalas, her first trip to the beach with her little red swimsuit and cap. Those horrible flights, with cold, stale sandwiches, catching a few winks and serving as Scully’s human pillows. Teaching Emily to ride a bike, her crying Mulder when she fell and sat on the ground wanting him to pick her up. How he carried her bike in one arm and his baby in another, walking home like Ironman.
There are some things money can’t buy…
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thanks for reading. tagging @today-in-fic & @mulderscreek, thanks.
He purposely sits down on the carpet right next to Emily, bumping his arm on her shoulder, and the preschooler giggles.
“Homework.”
“What is it?”
“We’re drawing what we want for Christmas.” Emily works hard on coloring the wheels of her bicycle, her brown crayon down to a stub. Mulder makes a mental note on getting her more art supplies.
“Emily!” Mulder gasps, his eyes grow huge. “Sweetie, who told you that?”
The little girl puts down her crayon and looks at Mulder: “Mommy says Santa doesn’t exist.”
The child cannot contain her secret, and Mulder knows something is up. “And?” He encourages her to keep talking.
“And when I said that to Grandma and Uncle Bill, they asked me that too.” She picks up a pink crayon. “Did Mommy lie?”
“Hum.” Mulder frowns. “Not exactly.”
“Is she in trouble?” She takes a little peek at Mulder; her eyes clearly speak concern for her mother. “Did I get her in trouble?”
“No, Baby.” Mulder reassures her. “Mommy’s not in trouble.”
“Mulder,” she asks, coloring vigorously now, “what do you want for Christmas?”
He looks at the child and shrugs his shoulder. She hands him a piece of paper and pushes her crayons towards him. “You can draw it and put it in my envelope so we can mail it to the North Pole.”
Mulder stares at the paper. “Who’s at the North Pole?”
“I donno, but that’s what my teacher says we should do.”
“Got cha.” Mulder replies. “You wanna tell me what you want for Christmas?”
“Whyyyy?” The child bats her eyes at him.
Mulder doesn’t know what to say. Sometimes he wishes that he had gotten to know Emily since she was an infant, which would have given him all that time to learn. He wonders if his buddy Danny, and his partner Ben, are feeling the same with their recently adopted son. Maybe not, Mulder thinks defeatedly; they probably have role models in their lives and they have each other to bounce back on while learning how to be dads.
Wait a minute… His brain screams. We’re being Dad now?
He panics suddenly. He isn’t so sure what he is really feeling. Yes, he likes being this figure who Emily runs to when he comes home.
Home. There’s another one. This is Scully’s home, not his.
Why the hell not? Another voice emerges out of nowhere.
How the hell do I know why the hell not? He sneers at his internal dialogue.
“Mulder,” The child is focusing on coloring a bear in the corner now. “What did you get last year?”
Almost startled, he breaks the purple crayon in his hand. “Oops, sorry.” He abandons the stick of wax as if it’s a piece of burning coal. “I, um, I got a, um…”
He got gifts; he just doesn’t remember what they were. I got a phone call from your mom and I flew over 10 hours with holiday travelers to be with her. I got a phone call from your mom saying that she needs me. That’s what I got for Christmas last year.
“I, um, … don’t really remember.”
He is not going to pour his heart out to this little girl with two pigtails.
“What did you want for Christmas?” Emily stops her coloring and turns to look at him. “You remember everything, Mulder.”
This compassion has Scully written all over it, he thinks. She even has Scully’s smile spot on.
“I wanted…” he breathes, “I wanted your mommy. I wanted her to be happy. All I wanted for Christmas was her.”
Emily’s face breaks into a smile and she pats Mulder’s knee, probably something Scully does whenever the child needs encouragement, he supposes. “Are you drawing Mommy?”
Mulder follows her glance and finally pays attention to the doodling he’s done earlier. Indeed, he has outlined a figure that is unmistakably his partner.
“I’m not finished.” He says. “Are you finished with yours?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to help me?” He asks Emily. He’s really green at this being-a-father business.
Emily picks up a crayon and pulls the paper closer to her. On his end of the paper, Mulder doodles a smaller figure, one with pigtails. He colors it lightly, afraid to break another green crayon.
He mindlessly lines the crayons by length while glancing at the child’s work. She’s clearly having fun, moving her head left and right happily.
“I’m done.” She announces, “It’s you.”
Mulder realizes what he has on the paper in front of him is a family portrait. Tears sting his eyes as he recalls that he hasn’t had one in 25 years. He scoops the child into his arms. “Emily, I love you and your mother.”
He rests his nose on her soft strawberry-blonde hair, and watches her fold the paper lengthwise.
“Now, we put them in an envelope, so we’ll get what we want for Christmas.” She says it as if he is new at this whole Christmas business.
“You know,” Mulder takes his paper away from her hand. “I think I want to keep my letter.”
Nodding, the child begins to put her crayons away.
“Mulder,” she asks in a small voice, “do you think Mommy is right that there is no Santa?”
“I don’t know, sweetie.” Mulder smiled at the child. “But you know, I did get what I wanted for Christmas last year.”
8.
The child comes over and hops onto the sofa. She bumps his kneecap with her small fist, “knock knock knock.”
Mulder looks up from his book. “Yes, Princess?”
“Why are you named Fox?”
“……”
Mulder is amazed at this child’s ability to render him speechless.
“Because my mommy liked the name and decided that I should be named Fox.”
That’s the exact explanation his mother had given him when he was four years old.
“Why does your mommy like the name?” Emily keeps probing.
“Because it is the last name of her grandmother, and she thought it was cute.”
Yeah, right, Mulder thinks almost bitterly, but it’s still the truth. He used to think about the name among his classmates and felt almost sorry for the girl named Nora Wolf. With this naming logic, Nora’s grandson would be named Wolf.
There are people named Wolfgang, and they often take pride in being named Wolfgang. But Wolfgang is no Fox, is it?
Emily draws closer, the tip of her tiny nose almost touching his nose. “But you don’t look like a Fox at all.” She declares while squinting.
Mulder abandons his book and moves the child on his lap.
“What do I look like?” He humors the girl.
“Um…” Emily tilts her head to the left, and studies Mulder carefully as if he were a Magic Eye poster. “You look like a potato.”
Mulder laughs, and makes the Mr. Potato face again, knowing it will send the girl into a fit of giggles. She does, and Mulder feels equally giddy.
“But Baby Banana, Potato Mulder is worse than Fox Mulder!”
She circles his neck with her arms. “I don’t think Fox is a bad name at all, Mulder.”
“Of course you don’t,” Mulder loves the child for her kindness, and kisses her on the cheek.
“And if you’re a potato, then that makes me a Tater Tot!” Emily returns a sweet kiss on his cheek and bounces off his lap like a ball of energy.
Awe and speechless, Mulder wonders if he’ll ever come out from this spell in this lifetime.
9.
The realization hits her silly. Of course, Scully recognizes, Emily used to live in San Diego!
Her little girl has never seen snow. The child has never seen snow. And now she has her face pressed up against the window, looking longingly and hesitantly.
“Mommy, do we have to go outside?” She asks.
“Mulder’s on his way.” Scully figures she’ll present the carrot first. “He’ll be very disappointed if you don’t come along.”
“Mr. Martin says in the snow people have to drive safely.” Emily whispers. “When will Mulder get here?”
“Bunny, he’s on his way.”
“Can we go outside and wait for him?” Emily pleads.
Scully looks at the clock and at the snowy world outside while calculating Mulder’s time of arrival in this kind of weather. “Sure. We can go welcome him. I think Mulder will like that, but you’re not dressed warm enough. Go pick out a sweater, and we’ll wear that under the puffy jacket Grandma got you.”
The child runs in the direction of her bedroom so fast that if she were a cartoon character, there would be a trail of smoke after her.
Scully smirks to herself; only if she can get Emily to run like that on weekday mornings, too.
She dresses the child and herself so they can brave the cold front, and they stroll out of her apartment building. Emily has on her beanie and her gloves; the beanie is bright orange and almost covers her eyes. They don’t need to wait too long to see Mulder’s silver car turn onto their block; it parks in one of the vacant spaces, and a lanky figure exists, also dressed in a puffy snow jacket.
“Mulder!” Emily lets go of her mother’s hand and starts running toward the tall figure. This is the first time that Emily takes off in this manner, and it takes Scully two seconds to start running after her.
Emily, be careful!
The child falls flat on her face before Scully has a chance to voice her warning. The four-year-old starts crying and won’t get up from the snowy pavement.
“Emmi, you okay?” Scully asks while brushing off the fine snow on the child’s clothes.
“Snow is dangerous.” Emily hiccups and lifts up her arms, wanting to be picked up. “I don’t like it.”
“But Baby Banana, we’re gonna go play in the snow.” Mulder coos while picking her up. “Isn’t that why I drove all the way here?”
Emily hides her face in Mulder’s shoulder, shaking her head stubbornly.
Maybe they won’t get to build a snowman together, Scully thinks disappointingly. Well, there’s always next year, she consoles herself.
Mulder leans down to give her a kiss hello. “I’ll think of something,” he promises with a wink.
They quickly return to her apartment, and Scully checks on Emily. Not a scrape nor a scratch, but the child’s spirit has dampened majorly. Always next year, Scully reminds herself, always next year.
Scully watches as Mulder loads a new roll of film into his camera. She watches as Mulder and Emily whisper back and forth, and wonders how to spend this glorious snow day indoors. Maybe they can bake a batch of chocolate chip cookies. Maybe they can drink hot cocoa and watch A Bug’s Life again. Anything is good as long as she’s spending it with her two loves, right?
“Mommy!” Emily and Mulder’s hollering wakes Scully from her reverie. “We’re ready!”
She turns to look at the two of them and almost bursts out laughing. Mulder has zipped Emily into his snow jacket; how does it even fit? She’ll never know.
“Mommy, I’m Roo!” Emily smiles. Her head is the only thing exposed.
“Yeah, Scully, she’s Roo!” Mulder waves her over. “C’mon, that snowman isn’t going to build himself.”
Scully throws on her snow jacket and grabs the hand of her kangaroo-man. “Do you know who Roo is?” She asks.
“Of course,” Mulder looks at her with mocked offense. “I’m Kanga. Hurry up, Tigger.”
Scully does a double take: “I’m Tigger? If anything, I’m Christopher Robin.”
“Of course you’re Tigger; you both are orange.” Kangaroo-man clasps Scully’s hand and safekeeps it in his pocket. “I knew there was a good reason to get one size up. I just thought it’d be you I’m keeping warm.”
“C’mon, you two!” Emily interjects, “ ‘noman is not gonna built himself!”
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thanks for reading. tagging @today-in-fic & @mulderscreek, thanks.
