Summary: A curious young Scully meets Mulder for the first time at one of Samantha's birthday parties, where even then she helps him out of trouble.

Note: I know, I know, this couldn't have happened, but they say that everything is possible in an infinite universe. Or something. All characters, as usual, don't belong to me (I wish), but to Chris Carter and the Fox Network. Please don't sue me, I was just indulging my capacity for innocent enjoyment.

You know, I find I write the best when I'm supposed to be revising. Yes, I'm afraid this is my best. Hey, I'm only seventeen.

Grateful acknowledgements to the person who first wrote an X-Files Early Years story, about Father Christmas, my copy of which I can't find, but who originally made me want to write one. This is not, however, a continuation of that, although it could possibly be a prequel. Also thanks to the recent story with M + S as kids - which I can't find either - which I thought was very sweet, and which prompted me.

And, by the way, You Know you're A Creative Phile When... you stay in school after youve had your last ever lesson there, just to write an X-F story. Nothing else could have kept me.

Forgive me if I get minute details wrong, but I haven't seen the second season yet. Pity me.

Now here's the story...

Dana Scully gasped involuntarily, and her mouth widened into a circle of delight, as she watched the soft coloured balls magically appear from behind the conjurors red handkerchief. This was the best birthday party this year, it was mush better than the silly clown she'd had for her eighth. She looked across at her schoolfriend Samantha Mulder with slight envy, then her attention was drawn back to the miraculous things the magician was doing with a length of string and two balloons.

Fox Mulder watched his sister's party from out of his window.

He longed to be out there in the garden with them, but was too old at age twelve to admit such a thing, and anyway, he couldn't: he was in his room after the 'disgraceful' way he had pulled his sister's hair at breakfast that morning. After all, she had been asking for it, it was all her stupid fault. She shouldnt have taken his book without asking for it.

He watched the appearance of a model elephant with the gloomiest expression he could muster. He felt a pang of jealousy as Sam was called out to have a quarter taken from behind her ear. They always took Sam's side. He hated having a sister. He wished desperately that he had been an only child.

Dana clapped with the rest when the magician finished in an explosion of silvery bits, although there were quite a few moans that it was over. No one interrupted her as she wandered through the milling children to the drinks table, and picked up an orange squash.

Pausing occasionally to sip it, she indulged her curiosity, and wandered into the house to look around. This was the first time she had been there - Samantha was not really a close friend, just a classmate, and Dana had only recently come to the school when they moved from their old house. She was beginning to like the new neighbourhood, but still found it unfamiliar. She hadn't made any close friends yet in school, and she remembered Nikki and Laura with a pang of regret, and slight guilt that she hadn't written to either of them yet. She made a mental resolution to get her best paper and her new pen and write as soon as she got home.

Fox watched as the group around the magician broke up, and saw the man being led off by one of the bolder children to get a piece of birthday cake. Then he looked carefully around the garden for his parents: neither of them were there. Sam was playing chase with a gang of her friends, and as he watched she ran around the corner of the house, leading to the front yard, in pursuit of another little girl.

It had been her fault that he was stuck up here, he reasoned, sliding off the window seat and crossing to the door. And it was the only opportunity he would get to talk to the magician, as he tried the handle, which hadn't been locked. And anyway, he wasn't really taking

part in the party, as he crept down the stairs, peering cautiously ahead over the curve of the banister. And he had had enough punishment that day. And he wouldn't even have any of the birthday cake, he decided virtuously, feeling the thrill of escaping without permission.

It was exciting, it felt like being on an adventure, and maybe the magician would teach him how to - he almost leapt a foot into the air as a face appeared around the end of the banister and inquired, "What are you doing?"

Recovering, he saw it was a girl he didn't recognise, but of Sam's age. "I'm going to see the magician," he said imperiously. "What're you doing in the house?"

"I was just looking," she said, shrinking back, a worried frown appearing on her forehead.

"Well, go out and play with Sam," he commanded.

"I can't. she's playing with her group. The little girl looked truly apprehensive now, and Fox felt a little guilty about treating her so brusquely. Anyway, she didn't appear to be a crony of Sam's, and today that made her a friend in his eyes.

"D'you want to come see the magician with me?" he asked casually. Her eyes widened, and he was pleased with the effect he had created.

"Can I?"

"Of course. But don't be a nuisance," he warned.

"Oh, I won't," she assured him firmly.

"Come on, then." Fox led the way through to the garden, and looked across to the cake table, but the magician had gone. "What's your name?" he asked as he threaded purposefully to where the man had last been seen.

"I'm Dana Katherine Scully," she said meticulously. "Are you Samantha's brother?"

"Yes."

"What's your name?" she prompted.

"Fox." His voice almost dared her to make fun of it, but when she spoke there was nothing but admiration in her voice.

"That's a nice name. I wish I had a name like that." He was surprised. She didn't seem like most of the other little girls he had met. "Where are we going?" she asked next.

Fox looked around, spotted the boy who had been leading the conjuror, and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around, and looked nervously up at the much taller and older boy.

"Where'd the magician go?" asked Fox. The boy shrugged.

"I think he went round the front."

"Okay. Come on, Dana." Dana had to move quite quickly to keep up with Fox, who was much taller than her, too, and moved with the confidence of a proprietor through his surroundings.

"He can't have gone through the house," she said as she hurried. "We'd have seen him. We could catch him if we went through the house. It'd be quicker."

"Hmm," said Fox non-committally, but led the way into the house. Dana was pleased not to have her advice dismissed, treatment she was used to from her elder brothers. They hurried in, but Fox checked as he saw a figure appear through a doorway. "Quick!' he hissed at her, and took her hand, pulling her up several stairs. Dana went along in puzzlement, and watched from their perch behind the banisters as Samathas mum passed them without looking up.

"What's up?" she asked Fox, who was watching his mother go out into the back garden.

"I didn't tell you I was in trouble, did I. I'm supposed to be in my room. I pulled Sam's hair this morning, cause she took my book. They took her side."

Dana, used to the injustice of having siblings, nodded sympathetically. "I'll go first," she offered. Fox crept forwards in reply.

"It's okay," was all he said. The moment they reached the bottom of the stairs they broke into a run, and they hurried through the house. Dana helped Fox up as he tripped over an overlapping piece of carpet and pulled him on. They had to go fast, both felt the need for urgency. Fox fumbled with the catch, and they erupted out of the front door just in time to see the taillights of the magicians silver car speed out into the road.

Fox raced crazily after him, knowing the uselessness of it, and seeing his father as he ran past, but still going out into the road in the hopeless hope that maybe, just maybe, the conjuror would see him, would stop. He slowed to a halt a few steps down, and watched as the car, painted with arcane magic symbols, speeded up and disappeared around a bend. Then he jumped out of the road just in time, as a car brushed by, honking at him and swerving. His father grabbed him by the elbow.

"What were you doing, Fox?" he demanded angrily. "You could have been killed! Do you know how stupid that was?"

Fox didn't answer.

Instead he looked at Dana, watching in shock at the quick succession of disasters.

"Maybe next time," he said, and gave hr a half smile. A slight, uncertain smile appeared at the corners of her mouth, and Mr Mulder shook Fox's elbow, holding it tightly. "I should ground you for a month!' he threatened.

Fox looked up at his father in quick alarm, but just then Dana stepped forwards impulsively.

"Mr Mulder," she began bravely, "it was my fault. I got lost, looking for the toilet, and I found Fox, and I wanted to see the magician." She looked up at him, her clear blue eyes steady, and Fox gave her a glance of astonishment. "it's not Fox's fault," she declared.

Mr Mulder looked down at the little girl gazing so truthfully at him, and his grasp on Fox's arm lessened. His mouth relaxed into an almost-smile, but he frowned at her.

"So how did you find Fox, then?" he asked sternly.

"I knocked on a door," she said, unabashed. "I couldn't find the toilet. And now I want to go again, sir." Her voice was appealing, ringing with truth. Mr Mulder examined her face for a moment in silence, and Fox held his breath. Then his father relaxed into a smile, and let go of Fox.

"I'll let you off this time, Fox," he said, "since it seems you were only playing the knight-errant." He patted his son's shoulder. "You'd better show the young lady the way," he said, and smiled at Dana, "in case she gets lost again."

"Yes, sir," said Fox thankfully. "Come one, Dana, it's upstairs."

"All right, Fox," she said obediently, and Mr Mulder allowed the smile to remain on his face as he watched Fox escort the girl into the house, courteously holding the door for her. What a team they made, he thought amusedly to himself.

The End.

So? Flame suit donned with caution, but it's only my first. Be gentle.

Title: Remember Me?
Author: Belafon
Written: June 1995

This is a sequel to Teamwork, my first story posted. Its probably useful to read that one first, although this can stand on its own. This was written as an ending for it, written on request - someone gave me an idea for a sequel in an email about the first - to explain why, if they met when kids, they don't remember each other - even though I did say at the time that it was just an alternative universe idea - yknow, Maybe in a different lifetime....

All characters ain't mine, they're Chris Carters. And Ten-Thirteen Productions. Oh, and the FOX Networks, I presume. Unless I invent some new ones myself, but it's probably too short for that. But you didn't want to know that. In fact, you probably skipped this part, and I don't blame you.

Now on with the story...

"Hey, Fox!" called a cheerful voice, and the boy span around, to see a small red-headed girl waving at him.

"Hey, Dana Katherine Scully!" he called back, a smile lighting his hazel eyes, and crossed the road next to the school quickly, not looking where he was going. When he reached the curb, a breath ahead of a blue sedan, Dana frowned at him.

"You should be more careful!" she scolded. "You might get killed, crossing like that. Stop, look, and listen," she instructed firmly.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied respectfully, but a betraying smile stole across his face. Dana suppressed an answering smile.

"You can't get around me like that, Fox. Youll have only yourself to blame when you get run over by a truck," she threatened direfully.

"Race you to the field?" Fox suggested, and was off. Her warnings were forgotten as, legs pumping at a ferocious rate, she raced to catch up with the taller boy with a lead start.

The race was a draw, in the end. Fox tired himself out by using up all his energy in the first rush, whilst Dana paced herself scientifically, having got used to racing with Fox Mulder. She even out-ran him, sometimes. They collapsed, panting, on the playing field, and lay on the ground for a while, talking in a desultory fashion, and watching the clouds floating in the lazy blue sky above them.

"D'you see that one?" called Fox. "It looks like a flying saucer!"

"They all look like flying saucers," she replied scornfully. "They're all - squashed clouds-"

"Cumulus," he replied.

"Bless you."

"Ha ha." Fox sat up, and squinted into the sun. "D'you want to go sit on the swings?"

"They're probably still full, now. It's only," she glanced proudly at her watch, that her father had just recently given her, "four o'clock."

Fox lay back and looked at the sky, spotted with clouds, feeling dreamy. It was odd, he reflected, how he had made friends with a girl of eight - he was practically a teenager, now he was twelve, but neither of them ever seemed to notice the age difference. It was because he was so childish, was her oft-expressed opinion.

He sat up and leaned on his elbow, and said, "Dana?" He saw that her eyes were drooping.

She murmured vaguely, "Hmmm?"

Fox smiled. "Don't fall asleep, or I'll leave you here to get old like Rip van Winkle."

"Beast." Dana couldn't get her much anger into her voice.

Somehow, she could never stay angry with Fox for long. Except, of course, when he tickled her nose with a piece of grass... she sat up abruptly, and launched herself at Fox, pummelling him with her fists.

Fox dropped the grass and caught her hands, laughing, but couldn't stop her from giving his shins a firm kick.

"Ouch!" Taking advantage of her swift attack, she pinned him to the ground, hands still gripped in his, and sat on his chest until he laughingly begged her to stop crushing the life out of him. She tugged her hands free, and sat back with a victory grin - only to be tumbled to the ground as Fox sat up hurriedly and reached for her hands. She scrambled out of the way and ran fast away from him, laughing into the wind, as he leapt up and raced after her. She turned to laugh, but he had stopped.

Fox stared in horror. The sun was way too bright, too close, it was coming from the wrong direction. "Dana!" he cried in warning, and Dana swung around.

He could see her shield her eyes, framed and made terribly small and vulnerable against the glare that had risen so gently around them. Her dress was whipped about her in the sudden wind that swept over the flat field. He tried to move towards her, to grab her back, but somehow his knees would not work. "Dana!" he cried again, and her voice rang out in the mounting wind, rising into a shriek: " Fox! Help me! Fox! Fox-!"

Fox Mulder woke with a start, a strangled cry in his throat.

For a moment his eyes were filled with the ghost of the little girl, disappearing into the pain of light and wind against his eyes. Slowly his heartbeat began to cease to hammer quite so violently, and slowly his fingers uncurled themselves, leaving small red moons embedded in his palms. He lay tensely back against the couch, and started breathing again, forcing his lungs to fill with air, feeling as if he had just been suffocating.

It was the same dream again, or a variation on a theme, tormenting his nights for some time now since Dana Scully had returned. Ironic, he reflected, regaining some composure, that they should start once she had come back , but then he hadn't really got much sleep whilst she was away. They always started off so gently, so happily - and sometimes, some very few times, he awoke with only the happy times remembered - imagined, he corrected himself. They affected him the most, actually; they were the only ones that got past his defences. He could deal with the fear, he was used to it. He remembered with heart-stopping clarity a dream in which Dana was at Sam's birthday party. He wondered what she would make of them, and managed to smile grimly. Probably she would be amused at being mixed up with Samantha. No, that wasn't like Dana. She would be endlessly sympathetic, as always - and then drag him off to the nearest shrink.

He felt strangely reassured by this, by the fact that she was still there to think he was a few sandwiches short of a picnic. A few aliens short of an invasion. He rested his head on the arm of the couch, and resigned himself to another sleepless night.

The End.

End Note: So? My mum think's it's totally unclear, but she's never watched the damn thing, what does she know. Rather kills any other sequels, yes?

Oh, well. Means I won't be able to typecast myself.