TITLE: Find the Future Series: Chapter Four: Thanksgiving Day AUTHORS: xphilernj and Fibbie (aka FBIWhistleblower) E-MAILS: xphilernj@aol.com and FBIWhistleblower@aol.com WEBSITES: https://donnilee.xf-redux.com/xphilernj.html and http://members.aol.com/xphilernj/fbiwhistleblower.html DISTRIBUTION: Please ask first! RATING: At least, no one under the age of 13, please, due to some curse words. If rating changes, a 'CONTENT WARNING' will be included. CATEGORIES: S, MSR, H, A KEYWORDS: AU, Mulder/Scully married SPOILERS: All episodes up to Requiem and before Mulder's abduction. Then ventures off into an unknown future. SUMMARY: It's Thanksgiving day and the gangs all here. What could happen? DISCLAIMER I: Fibbie - Sorry CC, we just couldn't help ourselves, but we will return them when we're good and ready. nj - Shhhh, don't tell anyone. We'll sneak them back in before midnight. (Maybe...) DISCLAIMER II: The name "Campbell's Soup" was used without permission and no infringement was intended. This story has no monetary value, only a sentimental one. * * * * * * * Chapter Four 1/2 * * * * * * * "Thanksgiving Day" * * * Past Tuesday November 20, 2001 Maggie Scully's Residence Maggie wiped her hands on the kitchen towel as she hurried out of the kitchen. She opened the front door to a sight she hadn't expected to see. There stood Fox Mulder, hands in his pockets. She felt a twinge of alarm as she greeted her son-in-law. "Fox, hello." "Hi, Mag ... Mom," Mulder stuttered with a shy smile gracing his handsome features. He was still getting used to calling his wife's mother "Mom," at her constant insistence. "What's the matter? Is Dana all right? Come in, come in," Maggie gushed, grabbing Mulder's arm and pulling him inside the entryway. "Are you okay? Is the baby okay?" "We're all fine. Dana's at home resting," Mulder placed his hand on her shoulder to quell her worried tone. "She's doing all right. The baby was pretty active last night. She swears it's my fault," Mulder laughed. "She says he has my sleeping habits." "He?" Maggie grinned and clasped her hands to her chest. "Well, we're not sure. We had to call it something. Calling the baby "It" just didn't set well with her." Mulder shrugged and chuckled. "She still wants it to be a surprise, I suppose. But, it would make my job much easier if I knew which it was going to be." Maggie said with a sigh. "I've been working on a layette since I found out she was pregnant. Wasn't sure what color to make it. Come on in the kitchen, Fox. Would you like some iced tea?" "Yes, thank you. Maggie, she'll love it, no matter what color." "I know, but it would be nice to know," she said with a smile. Mulder sat at the table watching Maggie bustle around the kitchen. "Maggie? I need your help." "Sure, Fox, what do you need?" Maggie asked as she placed the glasses of tea on the table and then sat across from Mulder. "Well ..." He started hesitantly. "We'll be here Thursday, but I wanted to do something special for Scul ... Dana. This is our first Thanksgiving as a family and I thought ... that maybe ... I could cook a special dinner for her, Friday. She's been so tired lately that I didn't want her to have to do anything. But .... I'm not sure what to do. That's why I need your help," Mulder finished with a hopeful look. Maggie reached across and patted his arm. "Of course I'll help. Let me get a pen and pad and we'll get a list started so you'll know what to shop for." With pen and paper, Mulder and Maggie sketched out a simple and uncomplicated meal that even he couldn't screw up. They finished their tea with comfortable conversation, riddled with past holiday stories and laughter. Maggie sent Mulder off with a list in hand, a smile on his face and, she sensed, another reason to make her daughter happy. * * * * * * * November 23, 2001 Fox and Dana Mulder's Apartment Friday following Thanksgiving Day "Wife! Dinner's ready!" Mulder yelled from the kitchen. Scully heard Mulder's call and slowly made her way from the bedroom prepared to chastise her husband, once again. She couldn't believe her eyes or nose when she rounded the corner. Mulder had outdone himself and with what she had come to understand had been a little help from her mother. Before her was a beautifully decorated table. It was adorned with a lace tablecloth and linen napkins, two china plates and polished silverware, crystal goblets and a fall floral centerpiece flanked by two candles. A bowl of dilled green beans, garden salad and a small roasted turkey breast surrounded by small red potatoes, completed the festive table. "Mulder, it's beautiful and smells wonderful." "Thanks," was his only reply as he pulled a chair out for Scully. "I didn't know you could cook anything other than warming up Campbell's Soup or scrambled eggs. However, did you do this? What restaurant did you call, Mulder?" Scully asked with a smirk. "Ha ha, Scully. I'll have you know, I shopped and made dinner all by myself," he replied with a playful, indignant tone. "I'm impressed, Mulder. But you shouldn't have gone to so much trouble for just the two of us." Mulder knelt beside her, placing his hand on her well-rounded belly. He kissed her cheek and looked into her sparkling blue eyes. "It wasn't any trouble. You've been so tired lately with Junior keeping you awake at all hours." Mulder rubbed her belly and continued. "Because of you, I have so much to be thankful for. I just wanted to do something special for you. I wanted to thank you for everything that you have done for me over the years. I wanted to show you how much I appreciate you. Happy Thanksgiving, Scully. I love you." "Oh, Mulder. I love you, too. Thank you," she whispered and kissed him gently on the lips. * * * * * * * Present Day November 24, 2005 Thanksgiving Morning Mulder Residence As the sunlight shone through the double windows in the breakfast room, Dana Mulder's reminiscing of past memories was disturbed by the pounding of feet on the stairs. She smiled and continued to sip her coffee. On the island counter was a spread deemed worthy of the two male figures that shadowed the kitchen entry. Both Mulder and William scratched their stomachs and yawned, totally in sync with each other but unaware of each other's actions. Mulder then picked William up so his son could see the feast his Moma had prepared. Scully laughed at her two favorite men as they ogled the breakfast she had prepared especially for them. "Wow!" Mulder and William exclaimed as they drooled over the bacon, link sausage, toast and eggs that were spread out before them. "Moma, that for me and Daddy?" William asked, running to Scully after Mulder had put him down and climbed into her lap. "Yes, baby. It's all for you and Daddy. Are you hungry?" Scully asked her son and with his eager nod, she sat him in a chair and went to fix his plate. Scully popped Mulder's butt just as he snitched a slice of bacon. She pointed to the table and laughed at the pout on his face and then smiled at the kiss he planted on her cheek. Mulder took his place next to his son and both waited patiently to be served. Mulder did get up and retrieve a glass of milk for William, a cup of coffee for himself and a refill for Scully. "Moma, you gonna eat, too? You not hungee?" William innocently asked his Moma. "I had cereal and toast earlier, baby. You and Daddy eat up. We have a big day today," she explained, ruffling William's hair and then sipping her coffee. William grinned and began eating ravenously. Scully shook her head. "Just like your Daddy." Mulder smiled around a mouthful of toast. He then sipped his coffee, leaned back and watched William. With a glance out the window, he sighed. "At least I won't have to rake the backyard again. Doesn't look too bad this morning. Do you need help in the kitchen, Scully?" "Nah, you and Will can go over to your Mom's and mine to see if they need help later. I'm okay here. Just have a few things to finish up." William finished with his meal and leaned back, mirroring his father. He patted his stomach, belched then covered his mouth with both hands and giggled. "'cooz me," William said quickly. Then looking between his Moma and Daddy he said apologetically. "Sowee." "Just like your Daddy," Scully repeated with a shake of her head. Mulder grinned at his wife then looked at his son and ruffled his hair. "It's okay this time, buddy. But, you shouldn't burp when we have company. Some people don't think it's very funny. You understand?" Mulder asked gently. William nodded and climbed up into his Daddy's waiting arms. Mulder hugged him and kissed the top of his head. "How about going up and change your clothes. We'll go see Memaw and Gamma. Okay?" "I don't want to now, Daddy. I want to pay. Moma, do I got to?" Will whined, glancing at his Moma and then back to his Daddy. Scully grinned behind her cup of coffee trying not to let her son know how humorous the situation was. "William," Mulder warned in a soft but firm voice. "Why do I have to keep reminding you about whining?" William bowed his head to Mulder's shoulder and muttered. "I sowee, Daddy." He lifted his head, placed his elbow on Mulder's shoulder and propped his little hand under his chin, thoughtfully looked at his Daddy. "Daddy, you don't like whining, do you?" William sighed when Mulder shook his head. "No, William, I don't like whining. We've had this conversation too many times for you to forget. What do you think we should do about it?" Mulder questioned his son. William looked into his Daddy's eyes, let out a disgusted breath and cocked his head to the side. "I don't know, Daddy. We'll figger it out." With a look of startled surprise from his Daddy, William flung his arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. "Okay, Daddy?" "Okay, Buddy," Mulder replied, looking at Scully's stunned expression, with a grin. "Now, scoot on upstairs and get changed." Mulder set William down on his feet. Scully hugged her son and he was off and running, the sound of his little feet stomping back up the stairs. Moma and Daddy laughed as they continued to enjoy the quiet and sipped the rest of their coffee. * * * * * * * End of Part 1/2 FEEDBACK: Yup! Live for it. Crave it. xphilernj@aol.com and FBIWhistleblower@aol.com * * * * * * * Chapter Four 2/2 * * * * * * * November 24, 2005 Thanksgiving Day Mulder Residence After Maggie Scully offered up a quiet, sincere prayer for their family and friends gathered together, for Charlie and his family, who couldn't attend, and for the Thanksgiving meal, Teena Mulder looked around the table at her extended family and friends. It was, to her, a strange conglomeration of individuals who, on the surface, generally seemed to have little in common. There was, of course, herself, her son, Fox, his wife, Dana, their adorable three year old son, William, Dana's mother, Maggie Scully, Dana's brother Bill Scully, his wife Tara and their 9 year old son, Matthew. Aside from Dana, of course, she'd met Maggie before, and she liked her, but she felt a strange, unexplainabletension between Dana and Fox, and Bill. Also in attendance were Fox and Dana's former FBI supervisor, Mr. Skinner, whom she had also met on some rather difficult occasions through the years, and Fox's friends, Mr. Byers, Mr. Frohike and Mr. Langly, also known as the Lone Gunmen. Of all of them, the latter three were quite possibly the strangest, and Teena didn't quite understand their friendship with her son, but Fox and Dana liked them, William adored them, and that was good enough for her. Throughout her life, especially early on in her marriage, she had learned the need to adapt, and, in this case, while difficult, in the end, she'd been glad she'd followed the course her heart had pointed her by moving to Culpeper. Teena *had,* unintentionally, overheard Fox telling the slightly strange trio, when they arrived, to be on their best behavior, and they had all looked at each other and then nodded in agreement. Then Mr. Byers handed Fox several bottles of the fine wine they were currently enjoying. They all sat at the old, oval antique mahogany table she'd given to her son and daughter-in-law after they moved into the old farm house, and Dana had loved it, the matching chairs and the mirrored sideboard, where the wines, drinks and desserts sat waiting to be served. The accompanying china hutch held antique place settings and glassware which, she came to understand, were a Scully family heirloom. The table was beautifully decorated with a burnished amber tablecloth, covered with a hand-crocheted cover. Pretty bone china plates, patterned with tiny, delicate fall leaves, sat upon matte gold chargers, and sparkling crystal wine and water glasses were at the adults' settings. Two glorious fall flower arrangements with bronze, burgundy, gold and orange mums sat between the three candles in gilded candlesticks on the table. The glow of two more candlesticks on the sideboard, and the slightly dimmed lighting, added an air of fellowship and family to the early evening event. Votives situated around the dining room, kitchen and living room lightly permeated the air with the perfumes of cinnamon, vanilla, nutmeg and allspice. Combined with the heavenly scents of the dinner her daughter- in-law had prepared, it reminded Teena of the relatively early days of her marriage; of a once loving husband, a young son and an even younger daughter, and of a home long gone. She forcibly shoved those thoughts to the back of her mind; this was her family now -- they wanted her here, she had a grandchild and she intended to enjoy every minute given her. Her daughter-in-law, by default and because of her profession, had been the designated "slicer and dicer" of the huge turkey, leaving Fox to dole out portions. Then Dana busied herself seeing to William's and Matthew's plates first, making sure they had what they wanted and needed -- boys being boys, each wanted a turkey leg -- and seeing that their milk glasses were filled. "Moma, ah don't yike pees," William whined as his mother spooned approximately ten of the little round, green vegetables onto his plate, knowing she had absolutely no hopes of getting any more of the vegetables into his mouth. "William," Mulder warned softly. "You know what we've talked about, Son." "Yes, Daddy," William pouted, "I not s'pos ta whine." "That's right, Will," Scully told him and patted his arm. "There are just a few. Please eat your peas for Moma. They'll make you grow big and strong and tall ... and handsome ... just like your Daddy." William looked up at his Daddy. "'ou eat peas, too, Daddy?" Mulder nearly choked. He actually hated green peas as much as his son, and looked to his wife who was standing behind William, and was grinning, he would swear, almost evilly. "Yes, Will ... Daddy will eat his peas, too." To prove his mettle, he picked up a forkful of peas and ate them, chewing as little as necessary and swallowing quickly, making rather unconvincing "yummy" noises while he did so. "Come on, Will," Matthew chimed in. "I'll show you how to eat 'em right." William turned to his cousin, who was sitting next to him and watched in fascination. "First, you take your mashed potatoes 'n gravy on your spoon, then you stick that into the peas and the peas stick to the mashed potatoes and you eat 'em." He leaned over and whispered conspiratorally to his younger cousin. "You almost can't taste 'em in the potatoes 'n gravy!" William nodded seriously and used his spoon to do the same thing Matthew had done with his fork. After he chewed and swallowed the spoonful of potatoes, gravy and peas, he looked at his cousin, a look of disgust on his face. "Yuk." The adults tried very hard not to laugh, and Mulder sympathized completely with his son's plight. "It's okay, Will," Mr. Skinner told him. "I'm eating my peas, too. See?" To prove his point, he ate a big forkful of peas. "Mmmm..." William screwed up his face, "Yuk, Unka Water." They couldn't help it at that point; all the adults at the table laughed at William's reaction ... except for, of course, Bill Scully. Teena could tell that Fox was more than aware of his brother-in-law's reactions which consisted, mostly, of muttering under his breath between bites of food. The man sat sullenly, eating and not looking up at anyone and ignoring everybody. It was abundantly clear that he did *not* want to be here and it made for a rather uncomfortable situation. That Bill Scully didn't like her son was obvious; the reasons for it were not. After everyone was served their desired portions of turkey, Scully asked, "Before I sit down, does anyone need anything else?" "No, dear, I'm fine," Teena had picked up her knife and fork and was in the process of cutting her meat. "Dana," Tara told her, "Please sit down and eat before the food gets cold. We're all perfectly capable of helping ourselves, and you've already worked yourself to death putting together this wonderful meal." Scully smiled at her. "C'mon, Scully," Fox patted the chair seat next to him. "Please sit down and eat." Across the table, Bill snorted and muttered something. All she could hear was the name "Scully," and then Tara elbowed him in the side. Bill glared at his wife. Teena took a delicate bite of the wonderfully seasoned cornbread stuffing and glanced, from under her eyelashes at her son and noticed that the muscle in his jaw was jumping. It was something that he'd unconsciously done since he was a little boy, and she recognized it as a sign of stress or unhappiness. The table was quiet for a moment and she noticed Mr. Byers, Mr. Langly and Mr. Frohike exchange glances, with the latter nodding at the bearded man. "Scully," Mr. Byers spoke up and Dana looked up from her plate. "This is *so* good. I haven't had a meal this good since ... well, last year." "Hey!" Mr. Frohike cut in before Scully could say anything. "What about the huevos rancheros this morning?" "We have those *every* morning," the blond man, Mr. Langly, chimed in. "We don't get a full turkey dinner every day!" "Yeah, well," the smaller man said with a hint of a sneer, "maybe if you'd get up out of bed and cook something yourself you wouldn't have to eat huevos rancheros every morning. And if it's *that* awful, why do you ask for thirds?" Langly opened his mouth to answer, but Teena herself interrupted. "I believe Dana did a wonderful job on everything," she wiped her mouth daintily with her linen napkin. "This is a most delicious and enjoyable meal." Dana Mulder beamed under the praise. "Mom taught me everything I know about cooking." "And *I*, for one, am glad she did, or I'd be eating Fruit Loops for Thanksgiving dinner," Fox remarked, pride for his wife beaming on his face. "Fruit Loops is right," Bill grumbled under his breath. "Bill!" Maggie's abrupt, sharp tone brought her son's head up from his slumped posture. "May I see you in the kitchen, please? I need your help with something." Teena watched, as did everyone else, like a tennis match, heads bobbing from Bill Scully's visage to Maggie's. The only ones truly oblivious were William and Matthew. Bill sighed, stood up, threw his napkin on his chair and stormed into the kitchen with his mother in tow. Dana looked around somewhat nervously, an obviously embarrassed flush rising on her face, tears forming in her eyes. It was very obvious she was trying hard *not* to let them fall. Teena continued eating, hearing muted voices coming from the kitchen and saw, out of the corner of her eye, her son reach over and put his hand over Dana's, squeezing it lightly. Dana looked up into his eyes and aimed a wobbly smile at him. Fox leaned over, whispered something, then kissed her lightly on the lips. "Yuk! Oh YUK!!!" William complained loudly at his parents' spontaneous display of affection, immediately covering his green eyes with one hand, unintentionally smearing potatoes and gravy on his nose. All the adults still at the table looked from Fox and Dana to William, there was a moment of silence and then everyone broke up laughing. "I know *just* how you feel, Buddy," Mr. Frohike told him, an overdone, highly theatrically sad look on his face. "I feel the *exact* same way every time I see your Daddy kissing your Moma." "Melvin," Dana warned with a blush and Teena noticed her son grinning wickedly at his wife. "Mulder," Dana told him, "Don't encourage Melvin. You know how he is." "Yes, I do." Fox glanced from Dana to Mr. Frohike. "I'm just very lucky I met you first, or I'd have never had a chance with 'Melvin' around." However young William was, like his father, he was quick on the uptake and asked in all innocence, "'ou meen if Moma worked wif Unka Ickee afore Daddy, Unka Ickee would be my Daddy?" Teena couldn't help but laugh herself when Fox and Dana, who had both been taking sips of their wine, choked and spluttered and barely avoided spewing their drinks. Fox recovered more quickly. "Um, no, Will. I met Moma first. Unka Ickee will always be Unka Ickee." Fox glared menacingly at Mr. Frohike making William and Matthew laugh and "Unka Ickee" slump low in his chair. Mr. Langly had opened his mouth to say something else, but whatever it was died on his tongue as Bill Scully came back into the room with a basket of hot rolls in his hand. He slammed the basket onto the table, making everyone jump, then and slammed himself down onto his chair. Maggie followed Bill with the traditional green bean casserole. "Look what we found! I can't believe we forgot this. I know it's one of your favorites, Fox." Teena noticed Maggie went out of her way to serve her son-in-law a heaping portion of the vegetable dish, glaring at her own son over Fox's shoulder. It was clear that heated words had been exchanged between mother and son, but no one wanted to ask any questions. "Bill," Maggie's voice was sharp and her son immediately looked up, "Would you please pass the rolls?" With a grunt, Bill shoved the basket into Tara's hands and Tara elbowed him in the ribs. Hard. Conversation resumed, somewhat stunted at first, until Fox's three friends got into a lively debate about current DVR technology. Given Bill Scully's still sullen expression, Teena suspected that Fox's friends intentionally took the subject somewhere rather aimless. For that, she was thankful, and she found herself liking the three men more and more, recognizing their devotion and deep friendship to her son and her daughter-in-law. "Daddy," William said holding up his glass. "More milk!" "More milk *what,* Son?" Mulder asked somewhat sternly. William smiled, remembering his manners. "More milk peez, Daddy?" "That's very good, Buddy," Fox replied, rose from his place, retrieved his son's glass. He then asked Matthew if he wanted more milk and after his nephew's positive response, with an extra "please" tacked on for good measure, Fox disappeared momentarily into the kitchen to retrieve their drinks. "Fox is a wonderful father," Maggie spoke up proudly, her warm eyes moving from Dana to Teena and it was Teena's turn to smile under the praise. "I'm very proud of my son," Teena replied, "And of Dana. They're both very attentive, responsible parents. They're doing a fine job raising William." The boy in question looked up at the mention of his name, food covering his face. His napkin was tucked in at his collar, underneath his chin, and in his right fist, he held his turkey leg. Teena put a hand to her lips, trying not to laugh. Her grandson was a beautiful little boy and a constant source of delight and joy to her. He reminded her so of Fox, when he was that age -- innocent, happy and uninhibited. She could only hope and pray that he would stay that way. "Excuse me," Teena said and quickly left the table. When she returned a moment later, she had a disposable camera with a flash in her hand. However, she looked at her daughter-in-law. "Dana, do you mind? I realize it's still dinner ..." "No, Teena," Dana replied. "They're only this age once. I'd like copies, if you don't mind. I'll be more than happy to pay for them." "Don't be silly, dear!" Teena told her, aiming her camera at William and Matthew who were intent on their turkey legs, though at Matthew's age, he was able to eat with considerably less mess. "William," Dana called to him. "Matthew! Boys, Gamma wants to take your picture, please!" Just as Fox came back into the room with their glasses of milk, both boys turned to Teena Mulder and smiled. Fox had to put the glasses down on the sideboard and leaned over, grabbing his stomach to keep from laughing out loud. Matthew was the epitome of 9 year old grace, his napkin also tucked into his collar, with a few drips of gravy on the napkin, his turkey leg in hand which had obviously been heavily predated. William, on the other hand, held his turkey leg in a death grip in his right hand, as if afraid someone would wrestle it away from him. Gravy dripped down his chin and his arm. The little boy had mashed potatoes all over his face and in his hair, a partially mashed pea hanging tenuously off his nose and, when "Gamma" told them to smile, another pea was displayed, caught between his front teeth. It was clear that the linen napkin would be sitting in a pan of bleach for hours. The camera's flash went off and both boys blinked, seeing spots and didn't have time to do anything else when the flash went off again. "Okay, Mom," Fox told her with a laugh. "I think that's enough." He reached for his own napkin, went around the table and set about cleaning up his son, as much as was possible. "Daddy!" Teena watched, a smile on her face as William squealed when her son removed the turkey leg from her grandson's hand and tried to clean his fingers. "I not finished!" "But, what about dessert, Buddy?" Fox whispered to him. "Remember? Gamma made pumpkin pie, Memaw made apple pie and Moma made sweet potato pie! And we have your favorite, Buddy: Bluebell Homemade Vanilla Ice Cream!" William's mouth fell open as he stared at his father. Clearly, he'd forgotten about dessert. "If you eat that *whole* turkey leg, you won't have room for your pie and Bluebell!" William thought about it another minute, then, with his mind obviously made up, he reached for the turkey leg. "I 'ant 'urkee!" "Okay," Fox said, "But you can either eat all of that big leg and *not* have room for pie and Bluebell, or we can save your leg for tomorrow and you can have pie and Bluebell *now*!" William looked contemplatively between the turkey leg, his cousin, his Daddy, his Moma and everyone at the table. "Well," Walter Skinner spoke up, pushing his plate away, "I don't know about *Will,* but *I* want some of that sweet potato pie and Bluebell! Maybe I'll have a little of both pumpkin and apple pie *and* Bluebell!" "Sounds good to me! But, I think I'd like some of that sweet potato pie," Mr. Byers said, pushing his plate away, and looking at William. "I think I'd rather have pie and ice cream than another helping of turkey!" "Just apple pie for me," Mr. Langly chimed in. William looked long and hard at his Unka Byes, Unka Angee and Unka Water, then pushed his own plate away, as well as he could, folded his arms over his chest the way he'd seen his Unka Water do so many times and announced, "I 'ont sweet 'tato, Daddy!" Tara and Maggie had helped Fox clear the dinner plates away while Dana went about preparing everyone's desserts. Bill Scully, Teena noticed, still sat sullenly, his arms folded defiantly across his chest. Whatever was going on with him, the rest of the family was obviously ignoring his not-so-subtle temper tantrum. All but Fox, that is. His jaw muscle continued to jump and twitch, but outwardly, he smiled and also ignored his brother-in-law until he absolutely *had* to speak to him. With everyone seated again, except for Dana and Fox, they waited, conversing quietly, until Dana appeared in the kitchen doorway and Fox entered with a large gilt silver tray heavily-laden with luscious-looking desserts and the infamous Bluebell Ice Cream. "Boo-bell!!!" William shrieked happily as Dana first serve Matthew then her own son. William hadn't been able to help himself, despite practicing with his parents previous to this gathering; he lost control of himself and insistently banged his spoon on the table. "William Fox," Dana warned, "Please behave yourself. Remember what we talked about? We have guests and you know your manners." "Sowee, Moma," Will pouted, and Teena nearly laughed at the familiar Mulder expression. How many times had she seen that expression on her own son when he had been Will's age? Will looked around the table at everyone, an embarrassed blush on his face. "Peez 'scooz me. I fo-get." Then he smiled happily. "But I dint burp, 'coz it not nice ta do!" Once again, the table burst into laughter and William only smiled, not understanding the reason for it. William looked from his small slice of warmed sweet potato pie with a small dip of Bluebell Homemade Vanilla Ice Cream on top. "Can I start, Daddy?" he asked sincerely. "'May' I start, Will," Fox responded. "'es, 'ou may, Daddy," William responded instantly, having heard the response to many times to his own question, and the Gunmen nearly bust a gut each at the expression on Fox's face. Maggie guffawed, then Mr. Skinner, Tara, Dana and Teena. A red-faced Fox Mulder glanced around the table, knowing he'd been unintentionally had and looked back at his young son. "Just go ahead and eat your dessert, Buddy," he sighed and watched as everyone dug into their treats. Groans of approval sounded from around the table as everyone enjoyed their desserts. "Dana," Mr. Skinner said between bites, "this is *the* best sweet potato pie I've ever tasted!" "Thank you, Walter," Dana replied, a slight blush to her cheeks. "But I owe it to Teena. She gave me the recipe." "And Dana did an outstanding job with it," Teena gushed. "It's always been Fox's favorite dessert. I *do* believe that Dana has improved on the recipe, don't you agree, Fox?" Mulder looked up from his pie and glanced from his mother to his wife. He felt certain he was in a no-win situation and pretended his mouth was too full to answer politely. Dana laughed and nudged her husband in the ribs. "It's okay, Mulder," she whispered to him. "Mom," Fox said after he swallowed. "No one can improve on *your* pie. Ever." Then he glanced back to his wife. "But, Scully's is probably a close photo finish." "Well, *that* was diplomatic!" Mr. Frohike mumbled. "Way to go, Mulder." "'ay to go Mudder!" William exclaimed, parrotting his Unka Ickee. Everyone snickered at Will's comment, glancing from son to father who was busily devouring his own large slice of sweet potato pie and ice cream. "Mudder," Teena heard Bill mutter. "How appropriate." Dana glared across the table at her brother and watched as Tara elbowed him in the side again. Teena would bet the big Navy man would have a permanent imprint of his wife's elbow in his ribcage by morning. Whatever was going on, quite frankly, Teena was tired of it and had determined to get to the bottom of the problem, in her own way. However, now was not the appropriate time. With the exception of Bill, of course, everyone chatted amiably over dessert and coffee, or in the case of Matthew and William, more milk. "I finish, Moma!" William exclaimed happily, and before anyone could stop him, he up-ended his ice cream bowl on his head, smiling ecstactically at everyone. "Oh my!" Teena exclaimed, glad she had kept her instant camera on the table. She grabbed it up and took a couple of pictures of her grandson and his cousin Matthew who was staring at the younger boy in confusion, but with a smile at the corners of his mouth. It was clear he was *extremely* tempted to follow his younger cousin's example, if only for the fun of it. "William!" Fox and Dana exclaimed together when they looked up and saw the current condition of their young son. Gamma Maggie burst into laughter as everyone else laughed even harder, and even this time, Matthew joined in with the hilarity, staring with wide-eyed awe at his younger cousin as the dregs of his "eye-keem" dripped down his face. "I'll get it," Maggie proclaimed with a snort and a hand to her daughter's shoulder as she jumped up and headed into the kitchen for paper towels and a damp cloth. "Will," Mr. Skinner reached to the child seated to his left and extracted the bowl, "I thought you'd grown out of that!" He glanced at his former agents' faces. While Dana had her head bowed, her red face covered with her hands, Fox was smiling broadly, enjoying the sight of his son, clearly enjoying himself. "Well, we've tried," Fox responded. "I thought we'd broken him of that particular stunt, however, I *do* believe he's spent entirely too much time with his three 'unkas' lately." Mulder managed to put a rather insincere frown on his face and looked at the Gunmen. "Don't look at me!" Byers exclaimed. "I *warned* them not to encourage him!" "What?! You're blaming us?!" Langly and Frohike cried simultaneously. "I think he's cute," Tara said softly, watching melted ice cream drip down William's face. "You should have seen some of the things Matthew did when he was Will's age." "Mom!" Matthew complained at her, turning beet red himself. Maggie had returned and was trying, without much success, to clean the ice cream from her youngest grandson's face, eyes and hair as she glanced from her daughter to son-in-law. "Will's done this," Dana stated matter-of-factly, "since he was old enough to hold a bowl ... *after* his Daddy taught him, very specifically, *how* to do it!" Dana now glared at Fox. "By example, I might add!" Teena smiled. "Let me tell you, dear," she said conspiriatorially to her daughter-in-law. "Fox did the exact same thing from the time *he* could pick up a bowl until he was six years old." Fox nearly gave himself a whiplash turning to face his mother. "Mom! I did *not*!" "Fox," she stated quietly, a smile on her own face, "I have photographic evidence. If need be, I can fetch it to prove..." "Er, no," her son suddenly backtracked. "That's not necessary." "Teena, I'd *really* like to see those..." But Fox was saved by his mother-in-law. "Dana -- it's obvious that Will needs a bath and a change of clothing. There's entirely too much ice cream in his hair." "No, Memaw!" William cried. "Don't wanta bath! Wanta pay wif Matty!" "Yes you do, Will," Fox exclaimed a little louder than necessary. "And I'll help you! You can play with Matthew after." Fox jolted out of his chair, ran around the table, grabbed his protesting son out of his booster seat, threw him over his shoulder in a make-shift fireman's carry and literally ran up the stairs, feet pounding, and out of sight. There was dead silence at the table for a moment, then Mr. Skinner began chuckling and everyone, including Bill Scully, joined in, laughing at Fox Mulder's distress. "Teena," Dana told her, "I *insist* on seeing those photos! There *are* occasions when blackmail works *very* well with your son!" "I'd pay good money for *copies* of those photos," Mr. Frohike added, waggling his eyebrows at Teena Mulder. Both Mr. Langly and Mr. Byers looked equally interested, mumbling something about an exclusive front page story for "The Magic Bullet." "Too bad I'm no longer his supervisor," Walter retorted. "*I* could've used some of those photos to keep him in line at the Bureau." "Yeah, right!" Dana laughed at him. Then she looked around the table. "Does anyone want seconds on pie and ice cream?" A chorus of groans and denials greeted her as the sight of all the men, including Matthew, clutching their stomachs was her answer. "Well, then," Dana stood, "I'll just get started on the dishes..." "You'll do no such thing!" Tara told her. "You've done the majority of the cooking and *I* will do the clean-up." "I'll help you, Tara," Maggie told her. "Bill? Will you help us clear the table?" Bill didn't say a word, knowing any protests would be futile, but sighed as he got to his feet and began helping collect the dishes. "Well, thank you," Dana said. "I think I'll go see what Mulder and Will are up to ... before I find the bathroom flooded." Everyone busied themselves gathering dishes, including Matthew, and helped carry them to the kitchen. "How would you like to help wash the dishes, Matty?" Maggie asked. "At home, Mom lets me dry," was Matthew's answer. "Then dry the dishes you will, young man," his grandmother replied and handed him a dry towel. The boy got busy as his grandmother scraped the scraps into the trash and handed the dishes to Tara. * * * Once finished bringing the dishes from the dining room to the kitchen, Bill slipped, seemingly unnoticed, out of the kitchen and to the den. Once there, he sighed, found the remote, turned on the television and began channel surfing. He ground his teeth noticing that Mulder owned a wide-screen, high definition television -- something that he could not afford, even on a Naval officer's salary. Leave it to Fox Mulder to flaunt his wealth! What the hell? Why the hell not enjoy it? He settled back into the Lazy Boy chair and settled on the Dallas/Denver football game, wishing he had a beer. It was obvious to Bill that he'd already missed over half the game, but the score was tight and it looked as if the rest of the game might be very intense. He'd just managed to get caught up on the stats for the game when he became aware of a presence near him. Fully expecting it to be his blasted brother-in-law, he glanced around in annoyance and then abruptly stood up, out of ingrained habit, when he realized that the person watching him was none other than his brother-in-law's mother. "Mrs. Mulder?" "Mr. Scully," she responded and sat down on the couch near him. "Am In interrupting?" "No, ma'am," he responded and clicked the remote to turn off the game. "And please, call me Bill." "I'd prefer to call you 'Mr. Scully,'" she responded, not unkindly, her steel blue/gray eyes never leaving his face. Bill was thrown for a loop, not knowing what to expect. "Um, what can I do for you, Mrs. Mulder?" He couldn't help it; he squirmed. "I'll be direct, Mr. Scully: I'd like to know what my son has done to you to cause you to treat him with such disrespect." Bill Scully blinked. "Um ... I beg your pardon?" "I couldn't help but notice your comments and remarks toward my son during dinner ... and before," Teena remarked. "I'd like to know the reasons behind them." "Maybe you'd be better off asking your son, Mrs. Mulder," Bill replied. "Perhaps ... but I'm asking *you.*" "Mrs. Mulder," Bill remarked, gathering his thoughts, "My sister has been through a lot since being partnered with your son in the F.B.I." "What business is that of yours?" Mrs. Mulder asked. Bill's temper was rising, yet he was trying very hard not to let it get the better of him, especially with an elderly woman, even if she was Fox Mulder's mother. "It's *my* business, Mrs. Mulder, because he married *my* sister," Bill retorted, a little more sharply than he intended. "I believe *that* is also the business of my son and your sister -- and neither of ours," she pronounced. "Mrs. Mulder," Bill stood, stuffed his hands in his pockets and began to pace back and forth, "I'm betting you don't know what's gone on during their partnership." "I'm betting you know even less than I do, Mr. Scully," Mrs. Mulder responded and *that* stopped Bill in his tracks. "What do you mean?" he couldn't help but ask. "I mean that there are *many* situations of which I am quite certain you have never been fully apprised." "Such as?" "I believe that is for Fox and Dana to tell you, assuming they wish to do so," Teena Mulder responded, not backing down. "I lost a sister because of your son!" Bill barked at her, then lowered his voice. "Were you aware of that?" "I am aware that your sister was murdered in the mistaken belief that it was Dana," Mrs. Mulder responded. "Wh-what?" Bill stammered. "You didn't know?" she asked, clearly aware that he hadn't. "*Dana* was the intended victim. Your sister, Melissa, happened into the situation and was murdered ccidentally. Had it not been Melissa, it would have been Dana. From your reaction, I'm assuming you didn't know these facts." "No ... no, I didn't." Bill staggered for a moment, then regained his equalibrium. "It doesn't change the fact that, either way, your son would have been responsible." "My son was nowhere near Dana's apartment when that event happened. He did *not* pull the trigger." Teena leaned forward where she sat, her hands clasped in her lap. "I know my son, Mr. Scully. He would have gladly traded places with your sister to avoid her death. I would have been devastated having lost his sister so many years before, but, as I said, I know my son." "His sister?" Bill blinked in confusion. "What about his sister?" "I take it you didn't know about that, either," Teena remarked. It was not a question, and she continued. "When Fox was twelve, his sister Samantha was eight years old. Their father and I had gone to the neighbors one evening in November for dinner and a game of cards. We left Fox to look after his little sister. He was very proud he was being trusted with her." Teena stared at the floor for a moment, tears apparent in her eyes and then she looked up at Bill Scully again. "While we were gone, Samantha was abducted. It was *very* rough on Fox. He was only twelve, and his father blamed him for not taking care of his sister. "Our family fell apart after that," she related. "I was not the best mother to him after that, either. His father and I divorced shortly after Samantha disappeared. Fox grew up a lonely, ostracized boy ... and he has felt guilty all his life over the loss of his sister. My son dedicated his life to finding his sister. It's why he joined the F.B.I." "Your ... your daughter," Bill gulped. "Was she ever found?" Teena Mulder's eyes met Bill Scully's. "No, Mr. Scully. She was not. *And,* it was not Fox's fault, either. It was my husband's." "Your husband's? Are you saying that your husband kidnapped..." Mrs. Mulder cut him off impatiently with a wave of her hand. "No, not directly. But he *was* involved. It's a very long story. One I do not care to relive again in depth. Suffice to say, my husband was involved deeply in our 'government,' in, shall we say, clandestine, highly-classified projects with dark intentions toward the American public, if not all of humanity. My daughter, Samantha -- Fox's sister -- was a casualty of my husband's work with these ... questionable factions. "My husband was having second thoughts and Samantha was taken to induce my husband's continued cooperation. He was murdered shortly before your sister, Melissa, was murdered -- because he was about to disclose to Fox the depth of his betrayal to our family, to his country -- to everyone. In fact, the intent was to make it look as if Fox had murdered his own father." Bill stood before her, mouth agape. "Dana never told me any of this. Neither has my Mother." "No," Mrs. Mulder commented, looking at her hands again. "I expect they wouldn't ... because they respect and love Fox, perhaps moreso than even I." "Why are you telling me this?" Bill asked. "Because you have *no* reason to hate my son," she replied. "If you want to hate anyone, hate *me.* Out of guilt forced upon him by both his father and me, for years Fox pursued clues to Samantha's whereabouts with little success. "Our 'government' has stalled him at every turn and," she continued, looking directly into his eyes, "Dana was assigned, by those same factions, to him those many years ago to distract him and to ruin his work. Dana wasn't aware she was being used, per se, but your sister has too much integrity and ended up becoming not only his ally, but his friend as well. Yes, Dana suffered, but so did my son. He suffered physically, yes, but every time your sister was hurt or any of your family members were hurt by their association with him, he was hurt even worse than anything that could physically be done to him. "Now, after all this time, after all they've been through, thankfully, Dana consented to become his wife and the mother of his son, and, honestly Mr. Scully," Teena took a deep breath, "I haven't seen Fox so happy since before Samantha disappeared. I'm overwhelmingly grateful that they've forgiven me and have invited me to be part of their lives and William's. "So, again, Mr. Scully," Teena told him as she stood, preparing to leave, "if you continue to feel the absolute need to hate anyone, hate me. I'm an old woman; I can take the hatred. Your sister and my son -- and your nephew -- do *not* deserve it. If you continue with your course, and I am speaking from experience here, Mr. Scully, you will lose your sister and your nephew if you force them to choose. I can tell you, from what I see them share, exactly *who* she will choose." With that, Teena Mulder left the room. Bill stared after her for a moment, sat down and again reached for the remote. However, the television screen stayed black. Bill didn't touch the "on" button. He simply sat there and thought about the things Fox Mulder's mother had told him. * * * November 24, 2005 Thanksgiving Evening Tara and Bill's Cottage Tara held the phone close to her ear, smiling while she watched from the front porch as Matthew and William walked up the dirt road to Fox and Dana's house. William's very childish and animated gestures had Matthew laughing as they walked side by side. Little Will had to take double the steps to keep up with his older cousin. "Dana, Matty and Will are on their way back to your place. Are you sure you want *two* hyper young boys tonight?" Tara questioned, obviously enjoying the antics of her nephew and son. "Don't worry, Tara. Mulder is on his way down the drive to meet them and *he* will be keeping the boys occupied until bedtime," Scully said with delighted laughter obvious in her voice. "Mulder will be thrilled to have another male around to play with. He'll definitely be in his element." Tara chuckled. "If you're sure, then okay. I know Matty was looking forward to spending time with Will while we were here; it was all he talked about. He was so excited when he found out we were coming to see his Aunt Dana and Uncle Fox. Needless to say, he was very impressed with this place. Dana, Fox was so good with him this afternoon. Matty was beside himself. I think Fox treating him like a big boy made all the difference." "Tara, Mulder was just being Mulder. He has always had a way with kids." Scully paused for a moment, as if she was not sure she should voice what she was thinking, and then continued. "He was so good with ... Emily ... when she was so sick. I had always suspected that he would be a good father but ... at that moment in time, I knew he would be a *great* father." Tara noted a tinge of melancholy lacing Scully's voice and sympathized with her sister-in-law. When Emily came into the picture, Tara was experiencing such joy with the birth of her son while Dana's heart was being ripped apart by the death of her daughter. "Dana, I know it wasn't the best time for you, but I'm so glad Fox was there for you. I know he was very worried about you. And Dana, I don't know if you knew or if he told you, but he was hurting too." Tara paused, waved when she saw Fox greeting the boys at the fork in the road, then began again. "When we left the chapel, he was just going in and Dana, he looked like he had been crying. When I asked him if he was okay, he just smiled and asked if you were all right. Dana, I felt so bad for the both of you. I'm sorry, I've waited so long to tell you that." "Oh Tara, I've missed having someone other than Mulder and my mother to talk to about these things," Scully had a slight catch in her voice. "Thank you, Tara, for being there for me then ... and now. I'm so glad you and Bill decided to come be with us for Thanksgiving. "I know it wasn't easy for Bill to accept the invitation, even if it has been 4 years. Tara, I just don't know what to do anymore. Mulder is practically walking on eggshells when Bill is around and trying so hard to be civil to him for me. I just don't understand Bill anymore. Why can't he just be happy for me? Because, Tara, I'm the happiest I've ever been, here in Culpepper, with Mulder and our son." Tara was quiet for a moment, trying to figure out how to say what was in her heart. Then she spoke, "I know you're happy, Dana. I can see it just by the smile on your face or the laughter in your voice when you see or talk to Fox and Will. I won't make excuses for Bill anymore. It's gone on too long. I have an idea what might be Bill's problem and I don't really think it's Fox at all. I don't think even Bill realizes the real reason for his anger toward him. Fox just seems to be, at least for Bill, a convenient outlet for his pent-up anger. And, for that, I'm truly sorry because Fox doesn't deserve to be the brunt of Bill's hostility." Tara hesitated for a moment, then continued, "Dana, I have an idea ..." "What are you thinking, Tara? Why is Bill ... oh um, Tara ... the boys just came in, so I'd better let you go for now. We'll talk tomorrow. You and Bill have good evening." Tara smiled, hearing the boys excited voices and Fox Mulder's laughter in the background over the phone line. "Yeah, I think I hear Bill stirring around, so I had better go too. See you tomorrow. Good night." Tara pressed the 'end call' button on her cell and looked out across the lake, admiring the beauty and serene atmosphere it provided. She could see several lights burning in the house across the water that she had come to understand as being where Mrs. Mulder lived. Her arms wrapped tightly around her waist. The cardigan she wore was too light weight for the rapidly cooling evening. Turning she noticed lights illuminating her mother-in-laws cottage as well. Smiling, she sent up a prayer of thanks that Fox had the foresight and unfailing paranoia to move Teena and Maggie to his and Dana's little arcadia. It had proved to provide them with comfort, companionship and a refuge from prying eyes and ears of an unforgiving press. Sighing, Tara resigned herself to the inevitable: The Talk. Bill had never been a big believer in expressing his feelings. Tara had known this about her husband since they had met and she had accepted him for who he was. But with each passing year, Bill's antagonism toward Fox had only increased. And she knew if it was not resolved, Bill would wind up alienating everyone he loved, including possibly herself and eventually their own son. Tara looked out across the lake once more, squared her shoulders and headed into the cottage. *Might as well get it over with. Better to be mad with me than with anyone else,* she passively thought. Bill was stretched out on the sofa, remote in hand, watching a movie. He looked up and over his shoulder when Tara entered the room. "Hey, hon. Who was on the phone? Mr. High and Mighty himself? I swear, Tara if he ..." Bill was cut off by his wife's stern but soft voice. "Bill. That was uncalled for. Fox has been very cordial and has gone out of his way to make sure that our Thanksgiving holiday is a pleasant one." Tara shook her head when her husband grunted and sneered at her words, his eyes retreating back to the tv screen. "Bill, you've been hostile toward Fox for too many years." Bill quickly rose from the sofa, clicking the television off and throwing the remote on the couch. He started pacing back and forth, a prominent scowl gracing his face. "And, I suppose *you* and *everyone* else don't think I have reason to hate him? Look what he's done, Tara! Look what he's taken away from us!" Bill's voice gradually rose with each word and Tara was grateful that Matthew was staying with Will that evening. Tara kept her temper in check and continued to softly speak. "No, Bill. I don't think you have good reason to despise Fox, at least, as much as you do. "He has not taken anything or anyone away from your family, Bill. Fox has done nothing to this family. If anything, he has gone out of his way to make sure *your* family is safe. If you have to have someone to blame, condemn the men who killed your sister, Melissa. Curse the men who hounded and tortured your living sister, Dana. Don't put the blame where it doesn't belong, Bill. You and I both know I'm right about this one." Bill still paced about the room, silently fuming, visibly not accepting his wife's narrative of past events. Tara stepped into Bill's line of vision and placed her hand on his chest to stop his insistent pacing. She looked into his cold eyes and shivered. Taking in a cleansing breath she began to speak softly again. "Bill, I'm going to say something to you and I don't want you to speak right away. I want you to think long and hard about what I'm saying you." Tara stopped long enough to make sure she had his complete attention and then began again. "Are you certain that Fox is the problem or could it possibly be someone else? Could it be that you no longer have that one person here to hold accountable? I know, you don't want to hold a grudge or take your frustration out on your remaining family, so in your mind, Fox became the most logical substitue. Think about it, Bill. Who are you really angry with? "You seem to be the one and only person that sees Fox as some kind of monster out to destroy your family. Why is that, Bill? What is it about him that makes you deaf and blind to anything and everything around you? Can you honestly tell me what he's done. Other than love Dana and William, what has Fox done -- really -- that has you so belligerent toward him that you can't see how you're affecting your own family?" Tara reached up and placed her palm against his warm cheek. "Bill, sweetheart, if you don't open your eyes and see, really see, what is right before you, you're going to lose everyone you love." At the sudden stricken look on his face she quickly tried to reassure him. "I love you, Bill, and you won't lose me over this but, you don't earn any brownie points either. "You might lose Dana and William over this though. Dana loves him and Will adores him. Your own son loves him. Think about Matthew, Bill. He loves you so much and looks up to you as his main male role model. We rarely see my parents and his Grandpa Bill is gone. What kind of example are you setting for him? I love you dearly, Bill, but sometimes you can be such an ass." Bill's eyes were large, slightly watery, and, for once, he seemed totally speechless. Rarely did she speak unkindly of or to anyone and hardly ever uttered a curse word. She stroked her husband's cheek to soothe the sting of her words. "Now, I'm going to go to bed. Join me when you're ready?" At the muted nod of his head, she stroked his cheek again, kissed him lightly on the lips, then gave him a gentle smile. She disappeared into the bedroom as quietly as she had entered. Bill's eyes followed her retreat. * * * * * * * Bill watched as his wife left, feeling totally bereft. Her absence, after she had literally raked him over the proverbial coals, had left him feeling cold and aching. He plopped down on the sofa, head in hands and wondered when everything went so wrong. How could they not see Fox Mulder the way he saw him? How could they not feel the same way he did? Bill rubbed his temples. Thinking was not an option, at least, at that moment. His head pounded and his eyes burned. Tomorrow. He would think about it tomorrow. He just couldn't be bothered right now. He slowly stood and entered the small bathroom, rumaging through the cabinet and finding the bottle of pain reliever; he popped two in his mouth. Shivering from the chalky taste, he quickly downed a glass of water and then splashed a handful of water over his face. Glancing in the mirror, he did a double take and was frightened by what he saw. Long gone was the carefree smile that used to grace his lips and the sparkle of laughter in his eyes. He shook his head and closed his eyes. Tomorrow. Already clothed in flannel pants and a thermal pullover, he crawled into bed next to his wife. He carefully spooned up behind her, placing his arm across her waist. He gently kissed her cheek, whispering I love you's as he drifted off to sleep. His last thought? Tomorrow. Somewhere in the back of his mind, as he drifted off to sleep, he thought of Scarlett O'Hara. * * * * * * * End of Part 2/2 What do you think? Will Bill come around or still be a stubborn ...? Feedback: xphilernj@aol.com and FBIWhistleblower@aol.com