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Title: Bliss Summary: A wedding, some more information and a lot of children occupy Mulder and Scully's time. FBI Headquarters "I never understood why you didn't arrest the man in the first place," I say as Skinner passes a picture to Scully. She hands it to me and I stare at the image of the man who brought Samara back to her. The man Skinner threatened at gunpoint to hand over our child. Unfortunately, in this photo, he's very much dead. I'm not even sure why this is coming across his desk or how he even knew to look for this. I only know the man from our various meetings in parking garages and hotel rooms across the countryside. "We've already gone over that. He's got ... he had diplomatic immunity and it would have been virtually useless to arrest him. He's untouchable and I knew it. He wasn't the one who kidnapped the child and technically, he was bringing your daughter back to you. It would have been hell to make any charges stick against this man," Skinner says, but I'm certain he's hiding something. I wish I knew what. Like how in the hell he knew who the man was when facing him down in the dark. "Who is he again?" Scully asks. She doesn't have any interest in looking at the picture once more. I know what she's interested in and that is whether or not that man put the chip in Samara's neck. "Matthias Brunner. He's somehow attached to the German embassy, but they are being very tight lipped about what his function was. Anyway, he grew up and was educated in the States, but maintained his German citizenship. I have no clue how the Fowleys would go from having your baby to Mr. Brunner having her," Skinner says. He's just feeding us -- or rather me, enough information to get an investigation started. I'm surprised Agent Reid wasn't included in this meeting. Maybe I'm reading the whole thing wrong. Maybe he isn't feeding me this so I go off and investigate it. Maybe he just wants us to know. He ought to know me better than that after all these years. "Diana Fowley spent several years in Germany. He could have been someone she was in contact with there. Maybe that's his relationship with that family," Scully says as she sits up straighter in her chair. We've been quietly putting this whole thing behind us for the last several months. We had our family together and no one wanted to disturb the relative peace. Reid and I worked on a few cases and Scully went back to work at Quantico in April. Soprano came back to us after a two month absence and could only tell us that her job is to make sure Kessie is safe. She doesn't know who's in charge of the whole thing. Dylan certainly isn't. Actually, I'm not even sure she remembers it all. "So, we know as little today as we've ever known?" I say, tossing the picture back onto his desk. "It would appear that way," Skinner says as he takes the photo and tucks it back into a file folder. "You might want to check with Senator Erickson's office." He says it as if it's almost an aside. An overly casual reference to someone who tried to fuck our lives up good. I open my mouth but nothing comes out right away. Not a word. "Why would someone from the German embassy be connected to Erickson?" Scully asks, speaking for me. Perhaps this is how Skinner knew who he was. "That isn't clear yet and there's not much of a chance the Senator is going to be easy for either of you to contact ... not after New Mexico," Skinner says, sitting back in his chair. As soon as this meeting is over, Senator Erickson is going to discover he can't use me twice. He can't use his embassy-connected lackeys to do things to my children. He can't push me around further for some personal gain of his. I don't even know what the hell that gain might be. I don't think he knows, either. "He'll just have to get over it," I say, ending this meeting. I can tell how upset Mulder is by the way he keeps clenching his hands into fists as we walk toward the elevator. I'm equally upset and I'd like to get to the bottom of why my little girl was taken as a newborn and returned with an implant in her neck, but I seriously doubt that Senator Erickson has any answers for us. I wouldn't trust his answers anyway. "Are you going back to Quantico?" Mulder asks. He takes a quick glance at his watch as we get on the elevator and pushes the button to the basement before he even hears my answer. "It's already five o'clock. I finished with my classes before I even came here and for the first time in two weeks, there are no autopsies waiting specifically for me. I just want to go home, kick off my shoes and relax for at least five minutes," I say with a heavy, exhausted sigh. It has been a horrible couple of weeks and I swear every dead body this side of the Mississippi has crossed before me. Chris had an ear infection and didn't sleep for nights, Kessie has tennis camp she needs to be at by 7:30 a.m. and I'm convinced Samara will spend her whole life thinking that 4 a.m. is a perfectly good hour to get up. Just like she believes that any time between 9 p.m. and midnight is a good time to go to bed. Luckily, Mulder has been up with her that early the last few weeks. They sit and watch the old cartoons together until PBS comes on with a variety of children's programming that always seems to includes puppets and the alphabet repeated at least 26 times in an hour. Not that she cares what's on the TV, but at least it keeps her quiet until it's a normal hour for Chris and Kessie to wake up. Then at exactly 7 a.m., she falls back to sleep. Many times over her short life, I've found her sleeping on Mulder's chest right when the rest of us have to be up and ready to go. I'm almost certain she's going to be a troublemaker her whole life. Just like her daddy. "Is there anything else you'd like to do at home?" Mulder asks as the doors slide open and we are greeted with the familiar view of the underbelly of the Hoover building. I look at him and he's actually pouting with his bottom lip sticking out. He looks like a child. I recognize that it's been a few weeks, or maybe a month, but isn't he as tired as I am? "Yes, I have to call my mother about the cake and if we don't help pick out some music soon, we will be listening to something by Celine Dion or someone named Shania Twain. That's what the DJ suggested," I say and he moans at the latest bit of wedding planning I present him. "No Celine Dion. Never. What's wrong with 'Love Me Tender' or something traditional like that?" Mulder asks as he unlocks the office door. Agent Reid must have gone home for the day. Considering Mulder told me Reid just moved in with his young girlfriend, I guess one can hardly blame the man for not wanting to stick around and hear what stories the Spooky family have to tell this time. "Elvis is traditional wedding music?" I ask, sitting down and putting my feet up on the chair next to me. I really wish I was home already. I could use a hot bath. A few minutes alone. Some silence. I'm not sure I want what that pout is begging me to do. Maybe after the bath, I'll feel better. "You can never go wrong with Elvis," Mulder says, only half paying attention to the conversation at this point. He's digging through his desk for something though I don't know what. "What's wrong?" I ask him. His pout is gone and he's back to work. He sits down, puts on his reading glasses and begins to go through a file he found buried under a few months worth of paperwork. Apparently, Agent Reid is no better at filing it all than Mulder. "I still want to know how Skinner knew that man," he says, going through the police report from the incident again. The entire incident was never entirely resolved. No one can determine how Lorraine Fowley managed to get out of the hospital with a newborn, let alone exchange another one for Samara. No one knows how Kestrel ended up with Soprano and why she wasn't killed with the rest of the family. Mulder assumes the only reason is because they still need her for something. Now he just has to determine what that something is. "Maybe this time, Erickson will be more helpful," I say, closing my eyes and remembering our last fiasco when we became involved with that man. "Or else we'll end up dead in some ravine in a desert outside of T and C, New Mexico," Mulder says glibly as he flips through paper after paper pertaining to that ...our case. "Speaking of the southwest, guess who was killed in a prison riot?" "Ronald Mulch?" I answer and he gives me a nod. "Over 50 inmates were involved and he was the only one who came out dead. Coincidence?" he asks. He puts down the folder and takes off his glasses again, rubbing his eyes. "Is she ever going to sleep until it is daylight out?" "Yes. Someday, Samara will be a teenager and she will want to sleep until noon. She will also want to stay out until 2 a.m., thinking that is a perfectly acceptable time for a 14 year old to come home," I say and he smiles. "I will at least have had plenty of practice raising a teenage girl by then," he says. He reaches out and moves the picture on his desk of the five of us together. I know which one it is and it was taken at Kessie's birthday part last January. Samara was hardly the ferocious infant she is now. She still appreciated at least two hour blocks of sleep back then and they usually lasted past 4 a.m. Now that she can almost sit up on her own, she's grown very independent. "I think both of your girls are very different. Samara is going to be a hard one to handle," I say, remembering certain rebellious moments in my youth. "Kessie, on the other hand, lives in a book." "It's all she knew, Scully. At least she's out playing tennis and occasionally talking about boys," he says, the apprehension behind that rising in his voice. "I'm going to go home. I forgot that I have that dress fitting at 8 p.m. tonight. I'll never be able to stay awake," I say, slumping further in my chair instead of actually getting up and going out the door. "I'm sure you'll be just beautiful," Mulder says, with a half smile. And a slight pout. Scully-Mulder Household "What did you find out?" Scully asks from the doorway, her voice barely above a whisper but enough to startle me into being completely awake. I was sleeping sitting up on the couch, Samara lying next to me, my hand on her making sure she doesn't roll off the edge. We've grown to accept the fact that this child prefers sleeping on the couch over her own crib. Actually, we've grown to accept anything that makes her sleep. Once she's out, she's good for a few hours, and it doesn't matter what goes on around her. "I didn't find out much," I say, referring to my visit with our favorite senator today. "He lied through our entire meeting. Told me he never heard of or saw Matthias Brunner in his life. But he's deeply sorry for what we had to go through with our baby." "I'm sure he is," Scully says. She stands above us, looking down at the sleeping baby, the corners of her mouth curling up into a slight smile. "How'd it go tonight?" I ask and she sighs, her smile disappearing immediately. "The music is settled. The cake is all wrong and everyone is in an uproar about the maid of honor wearing pink because she's apparently too old, even though it matches the junior bridesmaid's dress. I'm giving up," she says, rubbing the bridge of her nose as if just this little discussion has given her a massive headache. "It will be fine. Everybody will look great," I say, looking down at Samara. "You want to put her in bed so we can discuss Senator Erickson further?" Scully looks at me warily but gently picks Samara up from her favorite spot on the couch. "Is that the only reason you want to get her in bed?" she asks, rocking our baby in her arms. "Of course not, but it's a start," I say. I watch as she deftly opens the gate at the bottom of the stairs and ascends them quietly. She's back in a few minutes with Christopher's spill-proof juice cup in one hand and a baby bottle in the other. She disappears into the kitchen before coming back to the couch and sitting down beside me. I take her left hand in mine, looking at the spot where a ring used to be. She took it off when she was pregnant and swollen but hasn't put it back on yet. I'm not sure if she even knows where it is anymore. "Ever going to put it back on?" I ask, not necessarily upset that she's not wearing it. It isn't the like the last time she didn't want to put it on. I know now she's just too busy to really think about it. Three kids and a full time job are enough to wear anybody down, even Scully. "I will," she says, sounding even more tense than she did a few minutes ago. "Before the wedding, I'll have to find it." "Are you sure you can?" I ask. I know exactly where it is but I'm not going to help her on this one. "As a trained investigator who has found the answer to some of the more perplexing questions of our time, I'm sure one little diamond ring is not going to evade me for long," she says. She sinks back further against the couch, getting way too comfortable for someone who lost an engagement ring that cost a small fortune. "Little?" I ask. I never thought of it as little. I thought of it as just perfect for her. "What else around here do you consider little when it is actually a fairly decent size?" She laughs and leans into me, resting her head upon my shoulder. "Certainly not your ego. No one can consider that little," she banters back. Everything has been so right for the last few months. I find it hard to remember back to the time I didn't want the house in the 'burbs, the 2.5 kids and the family car. I guess with the right person, anything is possible. Well, that and a few underworld figures sticking their fingers into the mess and making it possible. We have yet to figure out what occurred that allowed us to have the first child together let alone the second and I doubt it has anything to do with the healing properties of my sperm considering my right hand is still aging. I know Scully still hopes that no one did anything to us in the creation of Samara, but I'm beginning to doubt that more every day. Especially when the person who got us involved in the whole New Mexico mess is back in the picture again. "So, what did the senator have to say this time?" Scully asks, getting us back to what I promised to discuss. "It wasn't so much the senator as it was the man who met me in the parking lot following the meeting ..." "Another one?" she asks, sounding genuinely surprised by that bit of news. "Another one ... the same one. Who can tell? They all look alike. I'm certain this is the man who was on that hillside in the Sandia Mountains. Then again, I could be wrong. He assured me he wasn't Matthias Brunner but had information for us. Something that would prove invaluable in the near future. Here, hold on ..." I say, shifting her slightly so I can dig in my pockets for the slip of paper I've been carrying all evening. She stares at it briefly before handing it back to me. "Obviously, it's a location. Latitude and longitude for somewhere. Do you know where yet?" she asks. I look at the paper again. 52° 51' N X 118° 2 W is scrawled in a messy hand as if someone did it as quickly as they could to catch me. "Somewhere near Jasper, Alberta," I say and Scully wrinkles up her face. "I know. I wasn't exactly overwhelmed with joy to hear that myself. The boys are looking into what might be there, at that exact spot. They have to 'borrow' some of the government's satellite capabilities but it isn't the first time." "Just don't go looking by yourself, please?" she asks quietly. "We've got too much to do in next few days." "I won't. Besides, it's probably nothing," I say, knowing that nobody would go through all this trouble for nothing. Perhaps it is just a ruse to get me up there. To get me out of the safety of this quiet we've been enveloped in. "Bill will be here tomorrow," Scully says and my whole body tenses. Just what I need right now. Big brother Bill finally coming around to meet the family. His wife is six months pregnant, so maybe he'll leave me the hell alone and take care of his own little flock. "That's good," I say, obviously lying. We've put this off for so long and now we have to come face to face. "You'll have to go get your tuxedos together," Scully says, driving a knife straight into my heart and twisting it sharply. "Without me coming along." "And if he kills me?" I ask, my voice rising in pitch as the knife slips in deeper. "Bill won't kill you," she says, reassuringly. She snuggles against me, her hand running slowly over my chest, playing with the fabric of my t-shirt. Touching a slightly damp spot that would be regurgitated formula. Brushing off another spot that would probably be ... melted cheese? "Are you sure?" I ask, watching as her hand moves lower. Could she possibly be interested? "He'll probably just maim you. But if you take your weapon, you should be okay," she says playfully, knowing just which buttons to push with me. She also knows what buttons to push with her hand as she slips it up and under my shirt, stroking it softly across my chest. "So I have to hope my tuxedo accommodates a holster?" I ask as she slinks closer to me. Close enough for her to run her tongue slowly down my jawline and then over to my mouth. She parts my lips with her tongue and we kiss. A long and deep kiss and to be honest, I've missed this. A lot. Scully breaks from my mouth and straddles my hips, looking down at me. Her eyes are bright and she looks happy. Tired, but happy. "I'll protect you from Bill," she says, making a promise I'm not sure she can keep. "And Charlie likes you a lot, so I'm sure he won't let Bill hurt you too much." "That makes me feel a whole lot better," I say, as she begins to grind down on my lap, teasing me. "The fact that I won't let my brother kill you or that I'm on your lap?" she asks before nibbling on my lower lip, making it impossible for me to answer just yet. "Both," I respond as soon as it is possible to say something. It isn't long before her mouth is over mine again, her tongue delving in, my tongue exploring. After a few minutes of avidly tasting each other, she leans back, allowing me to start playing with the buttons on her suit. "You want to do this down here?" she asks, the tone of her voice making it sound like she really doesn't want to go anywhere fast. "As far as I know, both Chris and Samara can't get the gate open at the top of the stairs and Kessie is spending the night at Soprano's apartment," I say, my fingers struggling with the stiff material. She just went out and bought a whole new wardrobe of summer suits for her return to work, complaining that the old ones no longer fit her post-two baby body. I think she's insane. She looks better now than ever. "You trust her?" Scully asks as she yanks at my t-shirt, pulling it over my head and allowing me to return to my button fight. "Do we have any other choice?" I ask. She brushes my hand away and unfastens the buttons herself. She sheds the jacket behind her and rushes through the tiny buttons on her white shirt. "No ..." she says. Now is not the time to discuss this. We've already discussed Soprano and her involvement in all of this to death and I'm not even sure what to make of it. Whether she's some sort of self-appointed guardian angel or not, who knows. We probably never will. "What about birth control ... everything is upstairs ..." I mumble as she starts to take her bra off. She didn't want to take birth control pills after Samara was born and both of us are scared of anything more permanent just yet. Mostly, I'm the one who's scared. "Should we just chance it ..." "We can't afford a bigger house ..." I say as I move her off my lap. No one knows where the other children came from beyond some miracle but I don't think we are ready for number three of our own and number four total. "I'll be right back." I race up the stairs and back down, carrying a package of condoms and the lubricant she still needs after the baby was born. She hasn't been weaned off the breast that long and Scully complains that everything is still dry. "Did you lock the gate at the top of the stairs?" Scully asks, the look on her face showing that she's more worried about one little toddling person falling down the flight of stairs than she is anyone discovering us. "Yes," I say, tossing our supplies on the couch. Scully lowered the lights while I was gone and now she's leaning back against the leather, bra gone. I love her breasts, still so full and round after giving birth to two of my children. Not that I didn't love them before. I just didn't get a whole hell of a lot of time to appreciate them before she got pregnant with Christopher. Once. We only did it once and our whole lives have now been molded into this nearly blissful existence. She reaches out and grabs me by the waistband of my jeans, pulling me toward her sharply. I almost stumble and end up on her lap, but she steadies me quickly, her hands keeping me in place. Those same hands then go to my fly and pops each of the buttons open slowly, her hand teasing me to unbearable hardness through the denim before she gets done. Only then does she ease my pants and boxers down and waits for me to step out of them before going further. With a familiarity that comes only from knowing each other so well, everything moves forward without words. With her soft lips, she places a trail of barely there kisses down my abdomen, moving lower and lower while driving me crazy with needing her *there* already. Then her mouth is around me and I remember one of the exactly 29 billion reasons I love her so much. She loves me enough to keep me around and dish up sexual favors even after its been a long day for both of us. I watch her, always amazed even after all this time and after everything we've been through, we can still stand each other. There is no other way. No other person either of us could be with. Her tongue flutters across the head of my cock with every stroke, tasting, touching, loving. But this isn't what I want. Sure, it's nice and all, but I want to be inside of her, to get lost in the body that houses the soul I love so much. "Scully ..." I say, though it comes out as a half-moan, half-plea, and she releases me from her mouth and leans back on the couch. I kneel down before her, tucking myself between her knees as I strip off the rest of her clothes. Now it's my turn to dust little kisses down her stomach and feel all the muscles involuntarily quiver as I do so. The stomach I heard her complain will never be the same after two babies. I don't care. I didn't get to run kisses up and down her abdomen much before we had babies. I'd never trade them to have back one moment of our lives before they arrived. She grabs the condom and carefully opens the foil packaging. Her fingers unroll it over me as I reach for the lubricant, wanting her to be comfortable. I warm it in my hand before touching her, arousing her with my fingers. Touching her clit in a way that makes her squirm closer to me and almost off the couch. We can do it on the floor. We can do it anywhere. I don't mind. Instead, she wraps her legs around my hips and pulls me closer. With practiced ease, I slip into her, feeling her warmth move from her body to mine. Instantly, all thoughts of senators and missing children and implants disappear and the only people on earth are the two of us. I slide in and out of her, her thrust matching each pump of my hips. I reach for her hands, wanting to hold onto her. To be held on to. Her nails dig into my flesh as we move faster and then she finally releases her hold of one of my hands. Instead, she touches herself, her fingers circling on her clit in time to the rest of our fluid movements. "Scully ..." I say again and she nods her head. Soon. She'll be there soon. We both will be. Then with just a few more thrusts, I beat her to it, though not by much. I fall against her, spent, and we just rest there, naked and happy. "You know I did this just as a bribe to get you to go with Bill," she whispers and we both laugh. "If you're nice to him, you might get more." "Keep it up and I'll be so nice to him, I might end up marrying him instead of you," I say and she laughs again. It sounds wonderful. Ballston Common Mall I have Chris hitched up on my hip and Samara is crying in the stroller, unhappy with the now cold bottle I gave her. Kessie keeps rolling her eyes at me and luckily, Matthew had to go with his father, Charlie, Nate, Chip and Mulder to get fitted for their tuxedos. Ellie is sleeping in the back of the dual stroller, taking Christopher's place. All the while, Colleen tries to convince Tara that the dress she's trying on looks good even though she's six months pregnant. "Dana, come here and tell us what you think," Colleen calls and I pass off Christopher to Kessie. She rolls her eyes again. I really want to roll my eyes, too. Both these women have avoided most of the wedding preparations and now want to spend eight hours picking out one dress. Tara 'blossomed' in the last few weeks and didn't fit in the dress she was originally supposed to wear, so now we must endure this torture. I shouldn't complain. I should enjoy being out with other mothers, but I would rather be at home taking a nap right now. The two of them are on vacation and weren't doing an autopsy at 5:30 this morning. I disappear into the dressing room and Tara turns around, showing off her pink dress. She's beautiful and I don't know what all the fuss is about. The cut of the dress is perfect for her present form and I nod my head in appreciation. "Do you like it, Dana?" she asks, her voice begging for approval. "I think it's perfect," I say and before I can get out another compliment, I hear one of the little ones begin to shriek out between the racks of clothes. "Get it so we can get out of here before security throws us out." The women laugh and begin to chatter away again about the dress while I get to go see what's wrong. I guess it is only natural that they get along so well with each other. They are the sister-in-laws after all, already coming together as outsiders to the Scully family. Already bonding over the fact that they are married to Navy men. Brothers. The person I'm marrying has no siblings. Besides me and his three children, he doesn't have much. A part of me wishes we had big families on both sides. I hear more laughter come out of the dressing room as I rock Samara in my arms, trying to get her to calm down. They keep laughing. Then again, maybe this family is big enough. "I think she wants to go home," Kessie says, nodding her head at Samara and stating the obvious. "And Kit won't leave my hair alone." "We all want to go home, Kessie," I add, wishing the person who had packed the diaper bag had thrown in another bottle for her. I'll have to take it up with him later. Finally, my two sister-in-laws come out of the dressing room and walk towards me and the children. They are all crying now, except for Kessie, but she looks like she might start if we don't get out of here soon. "You better not have anymore, Dana. You look swamped," Colleen says as she rocks her child in my stroller. Then I remember something Mulder told me. That neither of these women should have had babies with my brothers. Not if they want to be 'saved' in the future. It is something I can't ever tell them, for I don't know if it is true. I don't want to scare them. I don't want the wrath of Bill descending upon me or Mulder for suggesting such a thing. But even so, I have to figure out what to do. How to fix the future for them. Gingiss Formal Wear Scully's two brothers are discussing something about Navy policy and I am about to make an escape attempt if they don't stop soon. Charlie tries to include me in their conversations, but Bill keeps steering it away toward something I know nothing about. Like boats. I don't even care about boats. Then they spend ten minutes complaining about having to wear a tuxedo in the first place when they have perfectly good dress white uniforms. Bill finally blames it on me and the fact that I don't have any sort of uniform except a polyester G-man suit. I want to tell him that I don't own a single item of clothing made out of polyester, but decide to pick my battles better than that. I should have come with Everett earlier in the day when he picked up his tuxedo, but I got stuck in Maryland with Reid working on a difficult case. I'm lucky I'm here now and that Reid didn't mind staying behind and talking to the county coroner in the morning. There was a time nothing would have pulled me off a case like that. Until now. Until Scully became my family. Besides, I promised Scully I'd go with Bill, and after the other night, I'd do anything. Their boys are running around like animals, and I hope the fact that he has two girls around him keeps Chris from turning into some sort of wildebeest. Bill is certainly proud that Tara is pregnant with another boy and he doesn't let me forget it. I'm not sure what his point is considering Scully and I are glad to have children at all and aren't that particular about gender issues. We were just glad they were born human and didn't care whether they were male or female. "So, Mulder, why isn't your only boy getting a tuxedo?" Bill asks, once again trying to rub in the boy issue. "Because he's not even two yet and he would probably destroy a white tuxedo in about five seconds," I say, looking over to where their boys are wrestling on the floor. I can't imagine their rented tuxedos surviving the whole ceremony. "Nate! Chip! Let your cousin up!" Charlie shouts as he steps out of the dressing room wearing his tuxedo. They ignore him and keep rolling on the floor, the youngest one trapped under the older boys. "Hey, who's paying for the rehearsal dinner tomorrow? Since it is customary for the groom's parents to pay and they are dead ..." Bill says, looking me up and down. "Scu -- Dana and I are picking it up," I say, looking around, hoping they might not notice if I just disappeared when they get distracted. I'm sure Scully's not having a much better time considering she's got all the kids under the age of four with her. Hopefully, Kessie is being helpful and not just rolling her eyes like she's grown so fond of doing. "If you have someplace better to be ..." Bill says, noticing my eyes wandering to the door. "Actually, yes, I do," I say, remembering something I wanted to check up on before this weekend. "I'm assuming the two of you will be just fine without me?" Bill just smiles, happy that I'll be leaving his presence. "We got along just fine without you until now. I'm sure we'll manage." "See you tomorrow," I say, grabbing my tuxedo bag off a rack and making my hasty departure. Scully-Mulder Household "I didn't think they would ever stop talking," Kessie says as we both wearily make our way through the front door. "Neither did I," I say. Samara is fussing in my arms, and I'm sure she's starving by now. Chris had fallen asleep in his car seat, but he's up and wide awake now. "You want to play with your train, Kit?" Kessie asks, setting her brother down on the floor. He goes running off in the general direction of the living room and he's probably going to be up for another two hours. He was just refueling during that nap and I should have never let him go to sleep. Kessie checks on him and then follows me into the kitchen. "Why does Soprano call him Kit?" I try to remember her exact reasoning. That was a whole year ago and sometimes she calls him Chris but reverts back to Kit every once in a while. Mostly when Mulder's around because it flusters him. "Kit is a nickname for Christopher ... and a kit is a baby fox," I say and she nods her head as if she just remembered that. "That's why she does it." "Well, it's kind of cute, but does anybody want to go through life named after an animal? Or a bird?" Kessie asks. She sits at the counter and watches me while I try to get Samara her bottle and hold her at the same time. Finally, I can't take anymore of the fussing going on. "Kess, can you please hold her?" I ask and Kessie shrugs her shoulders in a noncommittal way before taking the baby out of my arms. I get the bottle made and Kessie takes it from me to feed Samara. She's a good kid and sometimes I'm not sure what we would do with two babies around here if she wasn't here. Speaking of babies, I have to go find the other one before he gets into something. Christopher is sitting in the middle of the floor banging away on a toy piano. It is one of those noises where if it wasn't your own child, it would drive you nuts. I can now tune it out when I have to. "Hey, sweetie. You ready for bed?" I ask, and he gives me a bright smile as he keeps banging away on the keyboard. He doesn't look tired at all. "I knew we should have kept you awake in the car." "Speaking of music, did anybody ever decide what Soprano is going to sing at the wedding?" Kessie asks. She's got an almost asleep Samara tucked in her arms as she finishes off the bottle. Mulder and Kessie usually are the only two people who can get that baby to go to sleep. I don't know what it is about them, but she is happiest in their arms. "Yes. Soprano got tired of waiting and picked something she is comfortable singing," I say and on cue, Christopher starts singing some baby song as loud as he can. His little voice squeaks and then he begins to laugh, proud of his musical ability. "Can't wait until he takes up the violin," Kessie says with a big yawn, settling down on Samara's favorite couch. Kessie has begun to relax a lot more around us after the whole incident on the Vineyard. She now believes that we would do anything to find her. That her father would never abandon her like her mother did. I clap my hands and put my arms out toward Christopher and he crawls over and onto my lap, snuggling in close. "Where daddy?" he asks, looking up at me with soft hazel eyes. Both the kids have eyes just like Mulder's and Kessie's are close. No blue-eyed babies around here. "I don't know. He should be home soon to tuck you in bed," I say, rocking him in my arms. He'll be two next month. Where did the time go to? I run my fingers through his auburn hair and his eyes begin to get sleepy again. Both the Mulder girls are sleeping on the couch, nestled up next to each other. I wouldn't give this up for anything. The Office of the Lone Gunmen I knock on the door and listen as someone unlocks all the locks. I swear they add a new one in between every visit I make. "Hey, dude! What are you doing here so late? Don't you have a family to tuck into bed? A wedding to get ready for?" Frohike asks as he finally gets the door open. "I'm sure their mom can handle bedtime without me for one evening. I just wanted to see if you guys found out anything about those coordinates I sent to you," I say, sitting down on one of the stools as Byers and Langly both appear from various parts of the building. "It has been a rather interesting task. We had to figure out the right satellite to catch the images and then enhance everything," Byers says as he finds a pile of photos on a messy desk. "But this is what we got for you." "I'm trying to contact a friend of mine who likes to backpack up there about this time of year just to get away from it all. Maybe he can check it out," Langly says. I look at the satellite images. They have definitely been enlarged and enhanced, and still the little structure in the middle of the print is nothing more than a tiny speck in the middle of miles and miles of ... nothingness. "Looks like an old barn or something," Frohike says, handing me a magnifying glass. I study it carefully, hoping to hell that the meaning or reason behind this place pops into my head. It doesn't. "There is no record of it ever being built and the property around it belongs to the government. It's in the heart of Jasper National Park. There shouldn't be a structure there," Byers says, handing me more records about the land. "All I know is it's just a few miles from where I found Kessie. That must have something to do with it, but beyond that, I'm just as puzzled as you are," I say. All their data shows exactly what they told me. It shouldn't be there. Still, someone must know about it. "You did say that the Canadian government never found the subterranean structure where you found your daughter. This could simply be part of that same cover up," Frohike says. "And speaking of your eldest daughter, did you ever continue with that regression therapy?" "No," I say. There is nothing else to say about it. Whatever information she holds in her head isn't important enough to put her through that again. "Her mother is dead. Her mother's family is now dead. I don't want to dredge up any more crap in her life." "Understandable, dude. She's too young," Frohike says, sitting on a stool next to me. "So, how's the lucious nanny doing? I can't believe you took her back in." "Some days, neither can I. Then I think that if she didn't know something, Kessie would be dead. I have to keep her around just for that," I say, looking at my watch. They're probably all in bed now. Or I'll go home and find Kessie and Samara asleep on the couch. "I better get going." "If we find out anything else, we'll let you know," Langly says, collecting the photos and the data before putting them in a file for me to take with. "Thanks, guys. Great work as always." St. John's Church "The kids look nice. For now," Mulder says. He found me on the front steps of the church, watching all the boys fight the urge to run off and ruin their white tuxedos. "Where's Chris and Samara?" I ask, feeling him wrap his arms around my waist. It's a beautiful afternoon. The sun is shining and it's just tempting the boys all the more. As it stands now, they're just going to be hot and sweaty by the time their mothers come out and collect them, but their clothes are still clean. "I think Kessie and the organist's daughter are using our babies as dolls right at the moment. I just checked on them. They're fine. How are you?" he asks, rocking me in his arms. "I'm fine," I say. His hands spread across the silky material covering my almost back to normal waistline. Pink. I'm wearing pink. I look down at the dress and smile. I remember when I would only wear black. Everything is so different now. "You look nice, too," he whispers, pulling me further back into him. "Are you sorry this isn't our wedding?" I sigh and relax my body, enjoying being this close, even if it is on the front steps of my church. "No, not really. Someday it would be nice if we finally had that little piece of paper that declared everything I already know, but for now I'm happy for Mom and Everett. It's her day. I was just thinking about Dad. About how much I still miss him sometimes. How I wish he could have gotten to know you and our children. I know -- a funny thing to think about on the day my mom is getting remarried," I say. I turn around in his arms until we are facing each other. He's all dressed up in a white tuxedo with a black tie and vest, just like all the 'boys' in the family. He just happens to look better than the rest of them. "How about we try for sooner than someday?" he asks, still holding onto me. "Though I guess it doesn't matter. I couldn't love you more even if we were married." "I know," I say, careful not to get too close to him and leave lipstick behind on his collar. "I have a flight to Canada tomorrow," he says as we both turn our heads to watch the mischief going on up and down the steps. "I want to see what those coordinants mean to us. I need to find out what that structure is." "Okay," I say, even though he promised he wouldn't go look into this by himself. I've never been able to stop him before. I can't really expect to now. We can't figure out what it could possibly be besides a structure someone left behind. But why give us the coordinants? It makes no sense. Then again, what in our lives does? He takes my left hand in his and holds it up. "Still haven't found it, have you?" he asks, referring to my engagement ring. I knew he had to notice sooner or later that I didn't have it on. I took it off when I was very pregnant with Samara and haven't been able to find it since. "I'm sorry," I say, looking down at my feet, embarrassed. "I don't know how I did it or what happened to it." "I do," he says, letting go of my hand and pulling something out of his pants pocket. It's a black velvet box that can only hold one thing. "You had it this whole time?" I ask, wanting to swat him for doing that to me. I tore the house apart last night in a last ditch effort to have it on my finger today. "No, actually, the jeweler had it most of the time. Open it up and look," he urges me. I can hear the happiness in his voice. It makes me happy, too. I flip open the lid to find what was my ring, with two more stones added on either side of the center stones. "Wow." It's the first thing that comes to mind when I look at the setting. "A stone for each of us. The big one in the middle represents you, because you are the center of my ... our universe. You're what holds us all together. The little ones represent me, Kessie, Chris and Samara. Me and our babies," he says, his voice barely rising above a whisper. "Thank you," I say, sliding it onto my finger. "It's perfect." "So are you. And someday soon, I hope to add another ring to it, you know," he says, holding my hand again. "I know," I say. "Someday." The End
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