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Title:
Erin Go Bragh Puttin' this separate so the story won't get all clogged.... Yes, that awful pun in the Title means that Erin is back, just in time for everyone's favorite excuse to go out and party. That's right, it's St. Patrick's day, and the joint is jumpin'. Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, and the rest of the Clan belong to Chris Carter. Technically, since Bill Scully's name *should* be Charles, Bill belongs to me; as do Elise, Sean, and Alex. Erin and Mike are mine too, but then you knew that, huh? As always, romance alert ahead. Mulder/Scully romance, and I took a little ego trip and wrote more about Erin than I should when she doesn't exist on the show. I have sinned, but she's so much fun to write about! I deserve any flames I get for it. I accept them unrepentantly, thanks! And thanks to Taylor for coming up with the X-Kids term, and Michelle for the official report (she's nine hours ahead of me, and so rang in the new year a lot earlier than I did)....and especially Peregrine for helping me out with Alex;) Short summary: The Scully Clan invades Mike's Place for a proper St. Patrick's Day celebration, and when our dynamic duo is drinking, wonderful things can happen. Music by The Corrs. Catering by Pizza Roma and Ruffles Potato chips. Now, to the meat of the matter. Recently I've heard mention of people's creation of characters in a somewhat critical light. The person who was writing about them said that they were usually obvious Mary-Jane or Joe-Bob(whatever that means) proxys for the writer, who would really like to interject themselves into this other universe. Basically, that we create our own original characters because we'd like to live in the XF universe. I assume, from the tone of the letter, that they said this disapprovingly. Know what? They're absolutely right. The thing is, this isn't a problem! That's what fanfic is for in the first place! To instill our own ideas, viewpoints, and creativity into our favorite TV show. This isn't something to be ashamed of--it's something to enjoy. Yes, Erin is based on me. Yes, there are differences; she's six months older than I am, she doesn't look much like me, her ability to pull off pranks is much greater than mine. But...she is still very much me. I'm not scared to admit that. I love playing in other universes. I don't see it as a psychological problem so much as a fun way to express myself. And if I work out a little emotion in the process, that's bully for me. I don't require you to read my stuff. So, to all the critics of original characters(You know who you are, and if you're reading this then shame on you), and on behalf of all those who've created them, including authors who write stories based on personal experience(you know who *you* are, and you know you are my mentors), I have one thing to say: Thpbbbbbbbbbb. :P And now, on with the show!
Mike's Place Diner Mike's Place was, as usual, rather busy during the dinner hour; as a popular hangout for not only the local teen crowd but the more dignified Beltway Residents such as senators and house representatives, it hosted a motley and diverse crowd of diners. Most of the time it was at least subdued, because everyone knew you crossed Michael Mulder and you were banned for life, or worse--but this was a holiday, and so rules were lax. Erin regretted this fact as she dealt deftly with one more customer who'd had a little too much to drink and needed a taxi to get home. "St. Patrick's day was invented by Busch, I think." An amused voice said behind her. Two more arms took the man and propped him up long enough for him to stumble into the waiting car. "Kind of like Valentine's Day and Hallmark, huh?" She rested briefly against her cousin, not really ready to go back into the fray just yet. Fox Mulder adjusted the--in his opinion, geeky--tie(not red today, green, Mike insisted). He had to agree, he suspected Mike had imported him this evening not because he was shorthanded but because he was one more hand to help out. Mike's Place did great business on drinking holidays. "If I have to serve anyone one more green beer, I'm going to go chase those snakes back *into* Ireland. Along with anyone wearing a Kiss Me, I'm Irish button," he told his young cousin, who nodded. "Look at it this way, dinner rush is pretty much over, right? It can't get any worse." "That's what you think." Mike called from the alley, where he was dumping empty boxes. "Got a surprise for you two." "Why don't I like the sound of that," they both told each other. Erin smiled at the coincidence and pinched his arm. "Heyyy, what was that for?" He scowled. "You're not wearing green." "Whaddaya call this?" He hooked a thumb under the tie. She studied his face for a minute and finally prounounced, "Puce." "Oh, you'll pay for that...."
It was another ten minutes before either of them got what could decently be called a breather. Mike grabbed his nephew and suggested he clear off the big banquet table for a party that had a reservation. After which, Fox promptly dropped into one of the chairs, exhausted, and pulled that damned bow tie off, unbuttoning his collar. "I don't know, it seems to me if the help sits in the dining area, it can't be a very nice place to eat." Someone remarked from behind him. He stood, whirled, and was about to do something he'd probably regret before he realized who was talking. Bill Scully Jr., hands on his hips, confronted him. "Fox, I didn't know you worked here. What, the Government doesn't pay enough?" "No, Mike doesn't pay me enough," he replied just as quickly. "I took the FBI job as a suppliment. What're you doing here?" "Didn't Dana tell you? Got shore leave. Happened to be in town. When Mom called...." "Margaret?" "You didn't hear about that, either?" Mulder's eyes narrowed. He was planning on using his finely honed FBI investigative skills to find out what 'that' was when his jaw dropped. He counted one, two, three....too many people arranged behind Bill. Bill and Elise, Sean, Alex, his partner, her mother. The entire Scully clan. Watching him. "Fox, why are you just--oooooh, so that's what he meant." Erin came up behind him. "Wait, let me guess--half of Ireland came out to celebrate, and picked this as the place to do it." "I wouldn't say *half* of Ireland, dear," Margaret Scully said kindly. "But at least some of it. Not all Irish people have red hair, you know." <No, just the prettiest.> Mulder thought, glancing at his partner. Aloud, he said, "I should have *known*. Mike called you?" Seven heads bobbed in unison. "You're the party I just cleaned this table for?" "Correction-*we* are the party you just cleaned the table for. Sit down, Fox, you look like you could use a break," Bill said. "Reservations were under dual names, Scully *and* Mulder." "Oh good, they're here," Mike yelled from the kitchen. "Take a seat, food's coming. Drinks?" "Naw, Mike, we thought we'd just have ice water. *Yes*, drinks!" Bill yelled back. "It's gonna be a loooong night," Erin murmured to Fox, who nodded, still slightly shocked.
To the rest of the patrons of the eatery, it certainly must have looked like Ireland had invaded. Bill, Alex, and Dana were all redheads, as was Sean, the youngest. Margaret, acting as matriarch, kept the family in what *could* be considered order, if order were defined as organized anarchy. Erin stayed busy serving, but Bill pinioned Fox into the chair between him and Dana and held him there until he was sure the man wouldn't bolt for the nearest escape. Not that the Scully clan frightened him--well, not *usually*--but he wasn't big on family events anyway. And while he managed to keep from downing any of the *green* beer(well, they *said* it was beer) he didn't escape attention totally. Though with the yelling and good-natured argument going around, he was content to sit and listen...and watch his partner fight with her brothers. "Pass the potatoes." "What potatoes?" "Don't look innocent, Bill." "What, Dana?" "You ate them *all*?" "Here's more, don't fight. Jeez..." "Erin, stop for a minute, c'mere--" "No time, Lex, gotta go make sure table three has enough corned beef." "Fox, how about you?" "I ate..." "That's not eating, dear, have some more bread." "Mom, leave him alone." "What, Dana?" Erin grinned as she caught the hissed whisper from Dana to her mom--"Mom, you called him *dear*." "Is that a problem, love?" her mother replied, unruffled. "Can't I be friendly with the man my daughter's going to--" "Don't say it. Bad luck," Erin inserted quickly. "Don't say what?" Fox asked. "Oh, nothing..." Nobody was keeping track, really, but the general consensus was that they were on the third round of beer before Mike managed to hand the grill over to the night manager and join them. Erin had to be grabbed by the ear to be kept from circling the table. Michael handed her a soda(7-Up and green food coloring) and dumped corned beef on her plate. She made a face. "If I see any more 'ethnic' food in my life, I think I'll curl up and die. This is so stereotyped, Da." "Guess you wouldn't want any potatoes, then?" Alex handed her the bowl innocently. Mike grabbed it out of her hand before she could throw it at him. "Erin, calm down. Look over there." He nodded at the other end of the table. Margaret was engaged in earnest conversation with her daughter, while Fox watched. Dana was blushing--well, no prizes for guessing what they were talking about, with him grinning like that and her looking about ready to strangle someone. "I think he's had a few, or he'd be ready to kill along with Dana," Alex whispered. "Check it out, Erin, got a plan?" "Don't I always?" she scoffed. "Have you been watching them?" "She's had three, he's had four." Mike held up a bottle of O'Doul's. "Whatever you're planning, they're probably ripe for it. *But*, as prepayment, you have to do something for me first....."
"You know, if I didn't know better I'd say my dad has a crush on your grandma," Erin whispered to Alex, after Mike had explained the plan of action. "Naw, didn't you see the way he was talking with the night manager?" "*Karen*? Really?" Erin broke into a grin. "Well, either way, devious is what I do best. I just hope we don't give Maggie a heart attack." "Grandma's tougher than you think," Alex replied. He looked across at Mike, who nodded approvingly. At least someone had noticed; he supposed it was a good sign that Erin's own father was helping him out. Though he was having trouble concentrating with Erin's face so near to his. "Da, would you switch places with Bill? I wanna talk to him for a sec," Erin finally pronounced. "Go on over next to Margaret, Bill, c'mere." Mike stood and gestured helplessly at Bill Jr. He looked confused, but set his napkin down and made the switch. "Care to tell me what THAT is all about?" Bill didn't know the Mulders very well; this was only the second time he'd met Erin and that guy who Dana had the hots for, but from the first time he could tell something was up. "We're just doing a little shuffling. My da wanted to exchange a few words with your mom," Erin finally replied, not sure what to expect. He threw his head back and laughed, the last thing she was expecting. Bill joined in, not knowing why he was laughing and not really caring. After the fourth drink, he had affected an awful brogue to tease Elise with, and he turned it on Erin. "Aye, lass, d'ye think ye could...." And he began to laugh again. Erin silently wished she'd brought a video camera. The blackmail footage she could have gotten from this.... Michael, perfectly sober, smiled at Margaret. "A young man of your brood, dear Maggie, has designs on my daughter." "Oh?" Margaret studied Alex for a minute. "That's fine. Your kin has designs on mine, 'dear Mike', so we're even, wouldn't you say?" Michael checked his nephew swiftly and noted that his pupils were dilated before turning back to her. "I'd say so, by the way they're holding hands." "Shhh, you." Dana looked over at him. "Don't start, Michael." "Start what?" He shrugged innocently. "I haven't started anything. I just speed it along. Now, Dana, don't you think you should control your partner?" "What's he doing...?" She turned to face Fox, then looked down at her hand as if it didn't belong to her anymore. "Miiiike...." "I didn't do anything," Mike repeated. "I think I'll go check on the kitchen." "S'okay, Da, I'll go." Erin volunteered. "Looks like the corner needs some service anyway, and I can restock the mugs." "Erin, what are you plotting?" Margaret asked, suspicious. "Nothing, cross my heart." The teen replied, and left, a happy grin spreading across her face. "Scully...." Fox murmured, leaning over. "D'you know something?" "What's that?" "I don't believe her." "Me either. And I think you're drunk." She smiled. "Not nearly enough." He gave her a goofy grin back. "And you're not exactly sober yourself." "Nope. It's a drinking holiday, nobody's sober." "Well, Bill certainly isn't...." He caught her arm as she leaned out of the chair. "Watch yourself." "Good advice," she mumbled, and turned to answer some question from Margaret. Sean had been busily sculpting something out of the leftover potatoes in the corner, and now Bill was clumisly assisting him. From their viewpoint, it looked a little like a rather short, fat snowman. He chuckled. Bill, next to him, was pretty much asleep on the table, next to a bowl of peas. Sean had tucked a few in his hair, and it was going to be fun seeing when he'd notice. In his half-dreamlike state, Fox Mulder had a sudden revelation. This was his family. Brothers and sisters and little kids and crazy teenagers running around and Mike and Maggie sitting there like watchful parents keeping track of everyone and his partner. Alex looking lost and Erin hiding out somewhere in the kitchen and this lovely woman next to him. Bill playing with his nephew and Bill asleep and Dana. Dana quelled the meaningless question from her mother with a half-slurred answer and turned to face her partner again. Something flashed between them that half-scared her, though she couldn't think why. He was like a brother, that was what she had to keep telling herself, or she'd never survive, but when he looked at her like that she would seriously consider rethinking that stance. Especially when she was feeling fuzzy and not quite normal anyway, not like the X-Files were like any other branch, why *should* normal rules apply, after all she was in love.... She was in love? She was. His hand, still holding hers, tightened slightly, just for a moment, before he stood and wandered over to Mike to ask him something.
Alex finally gave up waiting and sent in search of the younger Mulder, wondering if she hadn't perhaps run and hid or something. He wanted to talk to her, more importantly wanted to explain a few things and get a few explanations of his own. He peeked through the doors of the kitchen, hearing deep breaths, and frowned, worried. "Erin, you in here?" Another deep breath. "Lex? Come on in..." Erin was sitting next to the now-cold grill, giggling uncontrollably. "I never thought....I'd see the day....Dana Scully would....get drunk...." She gasped. "Or the day Fox Mulder would act like a schoolboy about her...." Alex began to laugh, too. He couldn't help it, she was right. And his dad was worse, and his uncle Bill. "God, I wanna be just like them when I grow up." She smiled. "*If* you grow up." "As if. Come on, don't tell me you don't look up to your dad." "Oh, I do, but right now I'm looking down on him, 'cause he's dead on the table." "Your mom?" "Right next to him, or actually, I guess she's kinda on top of him." The way he said it set her off again. "And my dad acting all parental...." "Grownups." Alex shook his head in mock-disapproval. "Shameful," she agreed. "Hey, you hear that?" He listened carefully. "Yeah, it's the in-room radio, right? Been on all night." "No, the song." Alex tilted his head. "Can't say I recognize it." "Old song, you probably wouldn't." Erin listened for another few seconds. "Hey Lex." "Yeah?" "Dance with me." "You're kidding." "No, come on." She grabbed his hand and pulled him off the floor. "I wanna dance." Before he could protest, she'd grabbed both his hands firmly and pulled him into a slow dance in time with the music, her head on his shoulder. If he didn't die of shock he was going to die of happiness, he firmly decided. The song was actually faster than it should have been for slow dancing, but there was an underlying melody that seemed to fit the bill, and Erin began to hum along against his shoulder. "I have run away....I have run away, with you...hmmm hm hmmm...." For a second, he actually listened to the music, wondering why she would want to dance to *this* song, particularly. Close the door "Hey Erin." "Yeah?" "Those are kind of explicit lyrics, don't you think?" he asked, managing not to crack his voice. "I don't know, I think it's romantic. Suggestive, maybe, but it's better than some," she replied sleepily. "Know what?" he asked. "No, whazzat?" "I kinda like you, Erin." "Well, that's good." She giggled. " 'Cause if you kinda hated me I'd be kinda upset." She straightened up for a second, and met his green eyes with her grey, surprised when he kissed her. "Oh...*that* kinda like," she murmured to herself.
Mike's Place diner "Daddy. *Daddy*. DADDY!!" Sean leaned over his father and yelled into his ear. Elise, slumped against her husband, moved just enough to brush Sean off and groan lightly. "Daddy, wake *up*, I wanna go home," Sean whined. "Sean, c'mere," Mike called, grabbing the young boy around the waist. "You daddy's had a long night, let's let him...uh...sleep." "Oh. When do we go home?" Sean asked. "What, you don't like it here?" "I'm tired....I wanna nap." "There's a first," Maggie remarked dryly. "A six-year-old *asking* to take a nap?" "I think that would be a good idea for all of us," Mike said, lifting Sean onto his lap. "Where did the X-Kids go?" "Kitchen. So, how do we get them home?" "We don't. We take them back to my place." "Michael, dear, we're *at* Mike's Place." "My apartment, Maggie. Fox, are you sober?" Michael asked his nephew, who'd been absently staring off into space. "Completely." He whipped around, the sudden motion throwing him out of his chair and onto the floor. "Of course, what was I thinking?" Michael asked Margaret as he watched Fox pick himself up. "Can you walk?" "Hmm...yeah, once the world stops spinning....." "Good, take ahold of Bill. Dana...?" "I'm better than he is. I'll handle Elise." "Which leaves us with Bill and Sean. Tell you what, Sean, you go get your brother and your auntie Erin for us, all right?" "Okay." Sean jumped off his lap. "I gotta question." "Oh really. What is it?" Mike asked warily. <please, let it not be *the* question...not right now...I'm gonna tell him it's the stork...> "Are you my new grampa?" The little boy grinned at him. The two older people exchanged amused looks. "No, Sean, but I might be your great uncle if Fox ever gets off the dime. Now go get your big brother." "Come on, Bill, let's walk." Fox hefted the heavier man's arm over his shoulder. "Oohf, next time stop at seconds. Have you got bricks in your pockets?" When the comatose man didn't answer, he shrugged. "Be that way." "Fox, are you sure you can *find* the apartment, dear?" Margaret asked. "I have a photograpicicic memory, thanks." The agent pulled himself up to full height, almost dropping Bill in the process. "I think I can make it four blocks." "Then you'd better turn around, Fox, you're headed the wrong way." Mike turned him towards the other door. "I knew that." With that parting remark, both agents and their respective burdens staggered out the door. Michael grabbed Bill and pulled him out of the chair expertly. At Margaret's questioning look, he grinned. "Remember, I run this place. Lots of experience with drunks." "Grandmagrandmagrandma!" Sean ran towards them. "Lex is biting her!" "*What*?" Margaret gathered the frightened boy into her arms. "IwaslookinginandLexwasthereandhebitherand--" Michael lifted an eyebrow. "Are your grandchildren in the habit of biting people, Margaret?" She shook her head. "I didn't think so. Bill, take a breather." Mike dumped the man back into his seat and strode quickly over to the kitchen doors. Of course. Alexander Scully wasn't *biting* his daughter. He was kissing her. "It's all right, Maggie," he called back. "I found them." Making sure to create lots of noise, he stomped into the kitchen to confront them. He gave them just enough time to break apart, if they were still aware of the world at all.... They stood side by side, shifting nervously. Alex glanced at Mike's face, looked down, glanced up again. He suppressed the urge to laugh at them. "Come on, you two, we've got to get back to the apartment and Fox and Dana could probably use your help." Without looking back, he walked out, past Margaret, who was still reassuring her grandson that no, his older brother was *not* a vampire, and out to the parking lot where his family was waiting.
The walk in the fresh air seemed to have sobered her up, at least a little; the world was still spinning pleasantly, but it had stopped tilting. Elise was heavy, though. They finally made it up the stairs and into the apartment, though Dana had to get Alex to take his mother's other arm and Erin eventually just pulled both her cousin and Bill up the stairs. By the time Mike and Margaret arrived after locking up, Sean was asleep and drooling on his shoulder, and almost everyone was strewn somewhere for the night. "Hey Da." Erin waved from the easy chair. "We shoulda turned the heat on." "Wish I'd thought of it," he replied. "Where's Bill?" "Your bed, with Elise. Wanna dump Bill on my bed with Sean?" "Nah, I'll put them in the den. We need a place to sleep, too." Mike dragged Bill Jr. into the small room and emerged. Erin was smiling at him. "You and Margaret?" "Quiet, you." "Every man for himself." A sleepy tenor emerged from the couch. "Gotta get your own bed, Mike." "Shh, Fox." Erin swatted at the couch. Something under the blanket she was rolled up in moved, and Alex's head emerged. "Don't do that, you're poking me." "Sorry." She apologized tiredly. "M'cold, move over." Margaret watched in amusement as the two teenagers curled up under the blanket to sleep. At least, she hoped they were sleeping. They'd better be sleeping. "Up, Fox, come on." Mike pulled at his cousin. "You're smothering your partner. You two take Erin's bed, Maggie 'n I 'll camp out here." "Awright, awright. Hey, it's midnight. Official report: Monday is cold, dark, and won't stop spinning," Fox mumbled, pulling his partner after him. "Shut the door behind you, I don't wanna hear you snore all night," Erin yelled. Mike sighed, settled down on one end of the couch, and arranged his feet so that he wouldn't kick Maggie. Maybe they could get a few hours sleep, anyway.
It was a rather small bed. Fox Mulder looked at his cousin's bed in dismay. She was a small person, true, but the bed seemed an awfully lot smaller than a normal single person adult sized bed. "I don't think I've had that much to drink since I graduated Quantico." His partner was a small person too, he realized, and she still took up nearly all of it. "Hm....not in a long time, anyway...." He answered. "So, I get the floor, huh...." His feet seemed to have a mind of their own, and he tripped, catching himself by the elbows on the edge of the bed. He glanced up, and her face was a few inches from his. "Don't wanna do that....floor's kinda hard..," she said quietly. He propped himself up on his elbows and nodded. "So..." "Come on, you take that side." She pulled at his lapels, unsuccessfully trying to drag him up next to her. Finally, his feet were under him again and he pushed himself onto the bed. Right on top of her. "Sorry..." he muttered. Actually, he wasn't. She smiled, then. "Liar..." "Mmmhm." He leaned his forehead against hers. "But....if I tell the truth...." She stopped him by shifting her head slightly, and their lips met. Late at night, when tensions are high and people aren't thinking straight is a bad enough time to be in that close of a proximity; when people aren't even *walking* straight after drinking is a much worse time to try to hide anything. And when people don't even want to try, strange things can happen. Her hands came up to tangle in his hair and he propped himself above her, not even trying to fight. This wasn't wrong; this wasn't because of some set up between his family and hers, they weren't being watched and this Dana, his friend and this was right... She reached for his shirt, undoing the buttons, having trouble concentrating because he was kissing her cheek, her temple, her neck--suddenly this wasn't Mulder, her best friend and partner, this was *Fox*, the man she was in love with, and this was right... Her blouse collar was undone, and she could feel his lips on her collarbone, and... Nothing. A soft snore. She slapped her face with a loud <smack> of frustration. He'd passed out. "This is not flattering," she whispered in his ear. He snorted and pulled her tighter to him, half-rolled over, and tangled her in his shirt. She sighed again before resting her head against his chest. She couldn't blame him. It was rather tiring... He stirred in his sleep, smiled, and kissed the top of her head, feeling her breathing steady against him. This was right....
Michael was a man of habit, even when sleep deprived; at eight o'clock he woke, rose, and stretched, catlike, taking in the sleeping bodies spread around the apartment in various positions and locations. His nephew and favorite future-niece (he hoped) were curled up together on Erin's bed; Erin herself was curled up with Alex in the chair; Bill had slipped off the den chair and was snoring away on the floor. Bill and Elise, miraculously, had managed to stay fairly stable atop his own bed. Sean had migrated, though, to a spot in Margaret's lap, on the couch. Satisfied that his extended family was safe and sound, he headed for the kitchen. For a man who loved to cook, the studio kitchen was ridiculously small, crammed with all sorts of foods, from Frosted Flakes to artichoke hearts. The apartment wasn't meant for this many people; two was about it's limit, and before Erin he had used the spare bedroom as a storage closet. As he walked through the doorway, he passed a slightly shorter man standing there. "Hello, Mike." "Hello Bill," he replied civilly, going to the counter to grab a bowl. "And to what do I owe this visit?" "We haven't spoken in a while." His brother answered. He seemed to...shimmer, slightly. Well, Mike reminded himself, he was *dead*, after all. It didn't seem odd to him that his brother show up; he'd been expecting it, though he hasn't thought it would take him this long. "Years." He answered, flatly, not trusting himself to look Bill in the eye. "Since you took her in." "Her name is Erin." "Don't you think I know that?" "You never bothered yourself to see her, I'm surprised you remember her at all." "Too many reminders." The older man suddenly mumbled. "She looks like her mother." "No." Mike turned, a bowl of granola in hand. "She looks like Samantha. And you couldn't stand that. Fox can, I can, and you know damned well I loved Sam as much as you loved her, but you couldn't stand to see my daughter because of what you'd done." He watched his brother for a while. "You spoil her," Bill finally said, picking up the box of Frosted Flakes. "You call her your daughter, you tell her stories. You let her play with Fox all the time. She shouldn't be allowed to call you her father, it's not right." "Children grow up quickly, Bill. Because of your stubbornheadedness, my sister ran off, and I never even knew she *had* a child. Do you know how badly Nika and I wanted a child? I've got three more years to raise her, four if I'm lucky, and you had eighteen to be with Fox, a precious eight with Samantha. Why didn't you? Did your--our--work, get in the way? You can't judge a man's life against that. She needs a father, just like Fox did. And if I was too young to give him the father figure he *deserved*, at least I'm not too young to help her." A sight he didn't see often--his older brother hanging his head, shameful, scared. His older brother, William Mulder, always in control, and now all he could do was talk. William Mulder, who'd controlled and manipulated his wife, son, daughter, brother, his family into doing exactly what he wanted. "I did it out of love." Bill whispered. "I loved him, I loved you, Mike. I did what I thought was best. I thought it was best for you, I really did." "Now let me do what *I* think is best, then." Mike answered. "I promise I won't disappoint you, bro." "How is he?" he asked suddenly, switching topics. "Fox, is he doing well?" "As well as he can. He misses you." "He does?" "You're his father. Of course he does. No, before you can ask, he hasn't *told* me that. But I wasn't a political player for eight years without picking up a little bit of psychology along the way." "I see. His work?" "Intact. He's a bit more cautious about what goes on, but he still steps on a few toes." "Don't let him get too far out, or the same thing they did to you, they'll do to him." Michael stiffened. "Dana Scully is not like Nika, Bill. She's stronger, she's a fighter, just like Fox is." "Dana Scully? Wasn't she the...the spy?" "Oho, you haven't heard." Mike chuckled. "The one sent to watch him? I heard about that. But something went wrong, dear brother." "She agrees with him?" For his brother, who had a stone face most of the time, the surprised look probably meant he'd just had the shock of his....uh....afterlife. "I'd say it's a little more than that. You don't look in on them very often, do you?" "I can't. Not allowed," he mumbled. "And we can't have the great William breaking any rules. Come on." Mike gestured to the ghost or whatever Bill was now and walked back out into the living room. "That's Maggie, Erin's under the blanket, and Dana's nephew is down there somewhere, too." "Maggie?" Bill asked. "And a boy, sleeping with..." "That's all they're doing, don't worry. He's just as honorable as any of them. Maggie is Dana's mum." Mike kept his voice down when the woman stirred. "This way..." He opened Erin's door a crack, but his brother just leaned through the wall. Mike looked in and saw his face on the other side. His nephew lay on his side, arms wrapped around Dana's waist, her face buried in his shoulder. She shifted for a second, sighed, and moved her head, kissing his neck briefly. His arms involuntarily tightened. William had reverted to cold observation, his face showing nothing, but Mike saw something run through his eyes--fatherly pride, maybe, or perhaps worry about them. "I remember you and Nika...sleeping like that, once, on the back porch of our old house," he mused. "You couldn't even have been as old as they are." "They love each other very much." "Is she...she's a nice girl?" Mike smiled. "She is a kind woman, Bill, not a 'nice girl'. She kicks butt, but she won't hurt him." "And he won't hurt her, I hope I'd be able to do at least that while raising him." "No, he won't, not in that way. But they're both stubborn fools sometimes, and it's never going to be a walk in the park." "Hard on you." "Sometimes." "Frustrating?" "Often." "I envy you that." "Wouldn't give it up for the world." "I thought not." "Now you see, Bill. There is no greater thing than this bond, not work, and not truth, and not science. Your son knows that, I think. I hope. Dana must. Now, the question is, can you accept that?" "That's not the question, Michael." Will withdrew, and Mike shut the door. "I don't count anymore, not to or for them. The *real* question is, will they realize it before it's too late?" "I have confidence in them. I did; you did; let Fox take his own path. He may get there a little later than we'd like, but it'll come in time." "I've got to go, Mike." "Perfectly all right, Bill. I'll see you next time we're in church, perhaps?" "I'll try." The old man seemed to crumple in on himself. "I'm sorry, Mike." "Me too, Bill," he whispered. "Me too." "Da?" Mike turned around. Erin's face was peering at him over the edge of the blanket. "Who ya talking to?" "Just...thinking out loud." He grinned, ran a hand through greying auburn hair. "Sleep well?" "Yup. I think I'm sitting on Alex, though." "Somehow, sweetheart, I don't think he minds. Come look at this." Mike opened the door to her room. "Fox and Dana got a little closer last night, I think." "Hm, I bet. I had the strangest dream about them..." Erin watched the two agents sleep. "They're going to be very hung over." "Yup." "Kinda off-guard." "Yup." "Ripe for pranks." "Yup." End.
I'll let y'all figure out what sort of pranks they devise for our poor heroes....
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