“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.
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.
I haven’t posted a story in a while. I missed it, and so I am very pleased to offer chapter one of a four-chapter piece which has been sitting around unfinished for quite a while. With the help of a native speaker friend (as I am not native) I managed to get it done and ready to share with others. So enjoy and comment if you like.
tagging @today-in-fic
CHAPTER ONE
Mulder has been trying to set up the changing table for the soon-to-be newest addition to their family for some time now and is getting more frustrated by the minute. William promised to help but then, all of a sudden, he remembered an important homework assignment was due tomorrow and retreated into his room. Unsurprisingly, Mulder hears he's more on the phone with his buddies than anything else but decides not to start an argument. The teenager closes off whenever the topic of his new sibling comes up and Mulder just isn't in the mood for yet another demonstration of how the boy is not amused about how their family situation is going to change. The closer the due date is, three more weeks as of today, the more tense Mulder becomes juggling a moody heavily pregnant woman and a moody teenage boy, both on a hormone roller coaster. Emily could have been a balancing factor, but the now twenty-year-old had moved into a dorm when she started college to spare herself the daily commute from their remote house.
"Come on, you can do this," Mulder cheers himself on. "You've solved much more complicated problems than screwing together a few boards." His eyes trained on a strangely shaped tool, his mind wanders to Scully who is in town running errands. The plan is to be done with this thing before she returns, order in whatever food she is craving, and spend a quiet evening on the couch. He can imagine what she will say if she sees he hasn't been able to get the job done, as she had presciently proposed getting it delivered and assembled by someone from the store at a very low additional cost. His insistence on doing it himself is now haunting him. Still marveling about how he could have failed so miserably, he feels his phone buzz in his pocket.
"Ah, thinking of the devil," he says when he sees the caller ID. "Scully?"
"Hi, Mulder."
"When will you be home?" Not too soon, he hopes. Maybe he can get this changing table set up in time after all.
"Uh, listen," Scully starts but then says no more. Mulder waits for her to continue, his phone between his ear and his shoulder, concentrating more on the task at hand than on the phone call, trying to find a clue in the manual for what to do with the strange tool he is holding in his hand.
"I'm listening."
"Promise me not to panic," she says but of course bringing about exactly the opposite. The changing table is of no importance anymore, Mulder's attention is fully on his wife's voice.
"What's going on, Scully? Are you okay?" he asks, rising from his crouch and already looking around for his car keys.
"I am at the hospital. Relax, I'm fine. I told them it was Braxton-Hicks at the grocery store, but they called an ambulance and here I am, in labor. So, ready or not, the baby will be here today. Come here and bring the kids."
"Okay, hang on, we'll be there asap," Mulder says, slipping into his jacket and grabbing the keys he spotted on the sideboard underneath the window.
"There is no need to hurry, Mulder. We still have plenty of time, so I want you to take a deep breath and calm yourself before you get in the car."
"I am calm. Totally calm."
"No, you're not. I know you don't want to miss out this time, and I promise you won't. Just get here in one piece, please. Drive safely, no speeding."
"Okay."
"Promise me."
"I promise."
"I don't want to worry about you. I need to focus."
"You focus, I get the kids. See ya!"
Ending the call, Mulder shouts upstairs for his son, and a mere five minutes later they are both in the car to pick up Emily. Mulder reached his daughter in the library but she promised to be waiting for them at the dorm's parking lot. The ride there is silent, giving Mulder's anxieties free rein. All the complications he worried about throughout the pregnancy were plaguing him, but all the checkups, the ultrasounds, the tests, all had gone so smoothly. It surely cannot be the case now, only three weeks away from the due date, that something could go wrong. When he looks in the rearview mirror, he sees his 14-year-old son staring at his phone seemingly unfazed by what is about to happen. In a way, he admires his laissez-faire attitude, meanwhile, he keeps trying to soothe himself by nibbling sunflower seeds from a bag he keeps stored in the glove compartment.
It usually takes them an hour to drive from their house at Farrs Corner to Emily's college; Mulder makes it in 52 minutes today, not really speeding but pushing every single speed limit on the way. And then there is no Emily in sight when they pull into the parking area. It takes 20 minutes, 20 long minutes Mulder uses to type several texts into his phone ('We're here.' 'Where are you?' 'Still waiting...' ), until her familiar form appears around the corner and she falls into a run towards the car. "Ah, there she is. Finally," Mulder mumbles as he pops another seed in his mouth, the activity doing nothing to calm his nerves.
"What did you expect, dad?" William asks from the backseat. "She's a girl, I bet she's taken her time to get dressed and styled properly for the doctors that might cross her path at the hospital."
"Since when are you an expert on girls and their dressing and styling procedures?" Mulder asks, tossing the question over his right shoulder.
"I'm an expert on my sister. I can't count the dates she kept waiting before she made her appearance when she was still living with us. I bet that hasn't changed."
Mulder and William observe how Emily opens the passenger door and lets herself fall onto the seat. She leans over the middle console to place a kiss on her father's cheek and turns around to nod to her brother. "Hi, guys," she greets them good-naturedly. "Sorry for keeping you waiting."
William only rolls his eyes, but Mulder knows better than to complain about her delay. Scully is waiting for them at the hospital, fighting away the pain of labor. He wants to get there as quickly as possible. The fear of once again being too late to witness his child being born is gnawing at him heavily.
"How is mom?" Emily wants to know.
Mulder is pulling out of the campus parking lot as he says, "she said she was fine when I talked to her."
Emily huffs, "well, mom saying she's fine doesn't necessarily mean she is fine, though, does it?" All three of them know she is right. Mulder pushes the throttle.
"Dad," Emily gently says with a slight smirk around the corner of her mouth, "if we get pulled over by the police, it will take more of our time than respecting the speed limits. Do you want me to drive? You seem a bit on edge."
The idea isn't so bad, but it would mean they lose thirty seconds switching seats and another minute or so for Emily to adjust her sitting position and all the mirrors, which she always does meticulously, so Mulder decides against it. "No, I'm alright," he says, taking the cruise control down 3mph.
Emily can't stop being concerned about her mother and voices those concerns whether or not her father wants to hear them at the moment. "Will we be of any help, Will and I? I mean, what can we do other than sit around in the waiting area kneading our fingers? As curious as I am to meet my baby sister or brother, I wouldn't want to put too much strain on mom. I mean we know her, right? She will worry if we have enough to drink or eat, if we get tired, if we should be doing some homework... Maybe you should have gone alone, dad, without us in tow."
"She told me explicitly to get you, and when she has taken something into her head, she won't be talked out of it. The least by me."
"Also true," the girl agrees.
"She wants all of us with her at this very special moment for our family. You know her, she's a mother hen, she wants all her chicks with her," Mulder adds with a smile. From the corner of his eye, he sees Emily nod in agreement also with a knowing smile on her face. When he looks in the rearview mirror to establish affirmative eye contact with his son, too, all he gets is a sour face. "Everything alright, Will?"
"She didn't care so much about us before, so why now all of a sudden?" the boy mutters, his voice unemotional. He is very obviously not sharing the joyfully excited attitude of the other two people in the car. Emily's head turns around to look at her brother. A shocked Mulder fixates on his son in the rearview mirror. "What's that supposed to mean, Will? She didn't care for you? All she's ever done was care for you. I can't remember a single day since Scully's been a mother that she hasn't cared for her children."
"She cares for this new baby alright, but not for us. Not for Em and me. At least not anymore."
"What are you talking about?" Emily chimes in.
William looks out the window, mumbling a hardly audible, "nothin'."
"Spit it out, little brother. You can't make these allegations and then leave them hanging in the air."
William sighs, and for a moment he doesn't feel like answering, but then the anger which has been accumulating inside of him for a long time gets the better of him. "All she talked about was the baby. The baby this, the baby that. She wasn't interested in what happened in my life at all. She didn't even ask about school anymore, let alone help me study for my biology or chemistry exams." William looks accusingly at his father's reflection, whose eyes are more on his son than on the road where they should be.
"And how does this mean she cares more for the baby than for us?" Emily asks, turning in the passenger seat into a kneeling position to face her brother in the back. "Dealing with the pregnancy took a lot of her time, so what? It's not like you're a kindergartener who needs his mommy 24/7. I bet doing your homework on your own for a change, without mom helping you boost your grades at the very last minute, helped you become a better student."
"When was the last time she prepared our favorite meal, Em? Our Sunday family dinners consisted of Thai takeout these last weeks. No lasagna, no chicken curry, no pies for dessert. Painting the baby's room and washing the onesies was more important than cooking for us."
"It's called nesting, stupid! It's natural for a pregnant woman to prepare as much as possible. It's a hormone thing as far as I know. It doesn't mean the baby is more important than we are. It's nature," Emily explains in a condescending tone. "Instead of whining about it, you could've helped her with the baby stuff or maybe you could've even looked into a cookbook yourself. Preparing a pasta dish is not rocket science, even you could manage."
"Easy for you to say. You live far away on campus, you didn't have to deal with how it was at home. She didn't care for what I wanted or needed at all. She didn't watch my ball games anymore, she didn't take me to the mall to get those sneakers she promised me, she even forgot the last parent-teacher conference. Mr. Hummings asked me in front of the whole class if she was sick and I had to tell him she was pregnant. From then on half my classmates made fun of me for having to deal with a crying baby and stinky diapers. That has been my life lately, sis. You have no idea!"
Emily shakes her head in disbelief. "Honestly, Will, I can't believe how childish you are, craving your mommy's attention so badly." Having vented, she turns around in her seat, not giving another thought to her brother's misgivings.
Mulder knows better than his daughter though. He senses there is more amiss with William than simply a sibling's rivalry for motherly affection. For years, he has complained whenever Scully asked him about school, suggesting she help him with his homework, and now all of a sudden, he complains about her not doing it. He wonders what has been going on in the boy's head lately but now that they are entering the hospital's parking garage, all he wants is to see Scully, coach her through labor like they practiced, and be there right next to her when their child makes its entrance into this world. An earnest conversation with his son will have to wait.
In All Souls when Scully is looking at the picture of Emily and tearing up and Mulder calls her and she has to compose herself before she says hi is heartbreaking. Thank you for coming to my ted talk
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 very 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!”
“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 preschool, 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.
