“Sure, I just never thought I’d have to do this all over again for Wiley.”

“You did it for Emily all those years.” Mulder’s friend reminds him.

“God, you sound just like Scully.”

“What can I say? Great minds think alike.” Frohike’s smile permeates through the phone line.

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Buddy.”

Mulder considers his friend’s words for a long second. Frohike’s right; he has done this for Emily until she turned eight and requested to go trick-or-treating with her friends instead. He chaperoned his daughter and her little friends around the blocks, and felt proud that people trusted him with their children. What Mulder doesn’t know is that his overprotectiveness is legendary within the circle of parents in Emily’s elementary school.

Not many fathers volunteer to be chaperones for school field trips. Then again, not many fathers are like Fox Mulder.

He recalls the years he went with Emily and they wore matching costumes. There’s one year she was a princess and he wore a silly, fluffy-sleeved shirt with a toy sword. Was he a knight or a prince? Mulder still isn’t sure.

One year he was the puppeteer and Emily was the puppet. When Emily was four—their first Halloween together—she went as a parrot to his pirate. Oh, how Scully laughed and laughed and laughed at the sight. Mulder didn’t even complain when the eye patch he wore left a black ring around his eye and Scully had to scrub his face with a damp towel for an hour that night.

It was fun, Mulder admits. But now that his son is 4—the same age Mulder started going trick-or-treating with Emily—he has to be coaxed into dressing up again.

Mulder likes dressing in his t-shirt, jeans, and leather jacket, playing it cool and nodding at whoever opens the door to see him and five or six little ones screaming trick-o-treat! at the top of their lungs.

“Mulder?” Scully’s voice brings him back to the present. “Honey, do you want to open the package?”

He gives her a leering smile, and she returns an equally suggestive grin. She’s got the scissors ready, and the parcel from the Gunmen is waiting for him on the coffee table.

Mulder rips into the cardboard box without the scissors and takes out a pair of futuristic-looking sunglasses. The note that comes with it says: We know you’re doing costumes again with the family. Just thought this would come in handy. X-Men anyone? -L.G.

He scoffs lightly and looks at the pair of sunglasses. “Guess the Boys want us to go as X-Men for Halloween this year.”

“I can be Jean Grey for you, Mulder, all you need to do is ask.” Scully receives his kisses with a chuckle. “Emily can go as Storm or Rogue, or whoever she feels like being this year. Wiley will be so excited that Daddy is dressing up too.”

“Oh yeah, and Uncle Walter can be Professor X.” Mulder runs his fingers through his hair. “I’d go as Professor X but my hair is too beautiful to be messed with.”

“I wanna see you in those glasses, Mulder.” Scully urges. Mulder feels like she knows something he doesn’t, but he complies anyway.

He puts the glasses on. “Frohike wants me to be Cyclops, but I’ve always identified more with Wolverine.” He turns around to look at her, and turns his head to scan the rest of the living room.

Scully watches him take off his glasses and put them on, and take them off again. He turns to face her.

“Do you know what these are?” Mulder asks her while stroking her hair with his fingers. “Wow.”

“I have an idea or two.” She smiles. “Though I love you exactly the way you are.”

They sit quietly for a long while, with Mulder gazing at his partner and wife of many years. He takes off the special eyewear and places it on the coffee table. Scully leans forward to touch his cheek; maybe she should have known that Mulder would prefer things the way he’s known them for all his life.

“Mulder,” she says, and he looks at her somewhat sadly.

“It’s so… Your hair… It’s like…looking at the sun, I can’t look directly at it….” He moves to kiss her on the lips and pulls away again. Grabbing the eyeglasses, he puts them on and studies her face, this face he’s known and loved for years. He pulls the glasses lower, his eyes shifting up and down between the lenses, comparing the two worlds.

“I…I…” That’s all he manages to say.

Scully simply pulls the spectacles off his face, and, with a smile, she gathers him into her arms. “We’ll just get some regular, cool sunglasses if you want to be Cyclops, or…Wolverine is a good choice too.” She kisses his forehead and feels such tenderness toward this man. Scully rocks him slightly as if he were one of her children.

“Which one do you want?” She asks him after a few moments.

“You, Dana Scully. All I want is you.” Mulder snuggles closer to her, and Scully wants to see what Mulder sees when he looks at her.

52.

Emily hears them using this term to refer to her baby cousin before lunch. What a bundle of joy. Our darling little bundle of joy.

“Was I a bundle of joy, Mulder?” She asks, her big blue eyes full of curiosity.

Mulder looks at his daughter and smiles. He’s promised himself that he will never lie to her.

“…I wouldn’t put it in those terms.”

Suddenly the mint chocolate chip ice cream doesn’t taste so sweet anymore. Emily continues to lick the green icy treat and looks at the picnic table from their bench.

“So… I was a difficult baby?” She concludes with a frown, and Mulder chuckles.

“Foxi,” Mulder uses the nickname that only he has the privilege of using in this world, a nickname that came from her childhood wish to be him—not to be just like him but to be him. His childhood heroes were the likes of astronauts, yet his daughter’s hero was him—not her mommy, but him, Spooky Mulder.

Oh, how proud he was that day.

“You were not a bundle. You were three years old. You came to us able to speak your mind and you had your preferences. You wanted red, not pink; you wanted mashed potato, not pizza. I didn’t get to brag to my friends about your first word; we have no idea if you could wave bye-bye at one. You knew things like Pom Pom Purin which your mother and I had no idea about.”

Emily smiles at the mention of her favorite Sanrio character. She can’t recall why she would know that, either.

“Pom Pom Purin’s still my favorite.”

“You were much bigger than a bundle when I held you in my arms for the first time. Of course I was experiencing joy, but I also felt panic, and worry, and…a lot of things. In my mind I was calculating the things I was willing to sacrifice to ensure that your mother would have you in her life.”

“Like what?”

“Hum…” Mulder frowns slightly, debating how much he should say. “Pretty much everything, including myself. That’s how much I wanted your mother to keep you. I would have done everything so that she’d get to raise you and, well, be your mother.”

“Why didn’t you and Mom have more kids besides me and Yoty?” Emily gestures to her brother at the picnic table, whom she affectionately calls Yoty, as in William the Wiley Coyote.

“Well, because every time we asked if you wanted a baby brother or a dog, you wanted the dog. Except when you were six, so we had Wiley.” Mulder declares with a serious expression, and Emily can’t be sure if her father is joking.

“Is that why we have so many dogs? Every time we got a new dog was because you and Mom wanted to have a baby?” She sounds horrified.

Mulder recalls the first time he learned about human reproduction in health class and how he wished he was created in a lab instead of in his parents’ bedroom. He’s not sure if his daughter feels the same way. She should, though; all teenagers probably do.

“Foxi, do you remember when Mommy and I got married?”

She tilts her head to the left, and her eyes blink several times. “A little.”

“So you know Mom and I didn’t do things in the order that people usually do. I’ll let you in on a secret.” Mulder purposely lowers his voice. “Your mom and I didn’t even kiss before we took you home.”

“You liar!” Emily laughs with disbelief. “You two kiss all the time!”

“Yeah, but not before.” Mulder explains, “Sure, a peck on her cheek, a kiss on her forehead or her hand—we did that. But that was it.”

The girl stares at her father. She looks like she has a million things to say, but when she opens her mouth, nothing comes out. Emily thinks she doesn’t know anyone else more in love than her parents, and she feels like she’s received two bombshells today: one being that her parents would have had more children if not for her, and the second being that her parents had never kissed before she was three.

“We…held hands. It was a big deal for us, that we held hands.”

Emily snickers. “What’s so special about holding hands? I’ve held hands with people, and I don’t feel anything special about it.”

Mulder shakes his head, pretending to patronize her, “It’s not what you do, but who. Your mother’s hands are magical. They brought me comfort and courage, assurance and love. They still do. I love holding her hand.”

Emily has finished her ice cream, and she clasps her hands together. She watches her father pop the last piece of his waffle cone into his mouth.

“I’m not your Uncle Bill, so I don’t stress that teenage boys only have one thing on their minds. I think we’re different breeds, he and I,” Mulder squints at the picnic table, where Bill is now cutting a watermelon in his Captain Cook apron. “I’m sure he gave you that speech already.”

“Four times this trip.” Emily rolls her eyes. “Poor Mattie. I wonder what's his version?”

“But you know, I do believe in waiting for the right person.” Mulder points at the woman he loves, who’s chatting while reapplying sunblock on Wiley’s arms, “and mine is right over there. She was worth waiting.”

He stands up and extends his arm to pull his daughter up to her feet. “Let’s join the party. We don’t want to be Daddy Wallflower and Baby Wallflower.”

Emily holds onto her father’s hand. “Mulder,” she calls, “I think it’s our turn to make dinner tonight.”

“Yes, I can’t wait to debut my Captain Crunch apron.”

Back at the picnic table, Dana grins and waves as her two foxes walk hand-in-hand towards her.

53.

Mulder pads into the bedroom in his cushiony slippers, the remaining pair that hasn’t been confiscated by their family dogs, and free falls onto their bed.

“Wiley’s out like a light.” He murmurs, “I swear, I’ve never seen a 4-year-old who’s not afraid of the dark, not afraid of the Boogeyman, doesn’t think there can be monsters in the closet… I missed how when Emily was small and she always tried to find the best excuse to sleep in our bed with us. I thought my boy was gonna be the same.”

Scully squirts some lotion onto her hands and gestures for her husband to come near. She starts with his knees and Mulder becomes a puddle of melted mess on top of the comforter.

“Yeah, remember last year when the power was out, so all four of us slept on this bed?” She reminds him, “And didn’t you complain like an old man about how the storm messed up your plans that night?”

“Yes, but if I didn’t complain…” He leers, and she smears lotion onto the tip of his nose. “It was nice. And now my little girl is in the fifth grade, and my son’s too cool for his age. I should’ve known that’s what I’d get with uber-Scullys.”

“Uber-Scullys.” She echoes with a grin.

“So,” he begins, “gonna tell me why our little girl was upset? Did she get a bad grade or something?”

“This will tickle you, Mulder.” Scully moves on to his other leg with another dollop of body lotion in hand. “She wrote a play for class, but the teacher suggested some changes. The little playwright refused, the class ended up taking a vote, and majority rules. Emmi was so angry that she cried on the way home.”

“Oh no!” Mulder frowns. “Did she tell you what was changed? Maybe I can talk to her about it.”

“I’m not entirely sure you should, Papa.” Scully pays extra attention to Mulder’s dry ankle. “The class wanted a fairy tale with the typical elements of a wizard and a princess and a knight. But instead of ending the story where the narrator says the knight and the princess lived happily ever after, Emily has the narrator say the two best friends lived happily ever after.”

Mulder’s face breaks into a huge grin.

“Yeah, so while all the little girls cried about the princess not being married to the knight, all the boys complained about the knight being best friends with a girl.”

Mulder shakes his head in disbelief.

“And you know what Emily said to me in the car? She said, I’d rather marry my best friend like you did.”

Mulder’s eyes shine with pride. “She said that?”

“Yep. She thinks we’re best friends.” Scully nods with a serious expression on her face. “Wonder what gave her that idea?”

With the speed of light, Mulder grabs his wife and hauls her into his lap. “Scully,” he declares, “our daughter’s right, you know; you are my best friend.”

She pushes him down on the bed and jibs him in the stomach, and they both laugh like a couple of eight-year-old best friends.

Two best friends living happily ever after; this is how all fairy tales should end.

——-

“When we did it in class yesterday, it only took an hour, plus refrigerator time.” Emily answers.

“That means we’ll have to keep Mulder out of the kitchen and the refrigerator.” Scully feigns a frown. “Not gonna be easy; maybe we’ll need to get some help.”

“Do you think Uncle Melvie will help?” Emily asks while standing on the shopping cart, doing something Scully forbids her to do but Mulder encourages her to do.

“We’ll have to ask him.” Scully knows Frohike won’t say no to her or her daughter, but she cannot let Emily know that yet. “What else do we need to get, baby?”

Emily hops off the cart to get her picture shopping list out of her pocket. She looks at the sheet and counts off the items they need to make chocolate.

“Chocolate chips, Mommy, we need chocolate chips.”

“So, tell me again why we’re making chocolate instead of buying chocolate?” Scully asks. She’s actually heard Emily explain this four times already, but the child looks so animated when she does it every time. Sometimes Scully wishes to have Mulder’s photographic memory too.

“Ms. Natsume says that, in Japan, girls make and give chocolate to the boys they like. When we make chocolate, it comes from the heart.”

They are now standing in front of baking supplies, and Scully watches as Emily tosses bag after bag of chocolate chips into their cart.

“Baby, why do we need so many bags of chocolate chips?” Scully quickly calculates the cost and realizes the chocolate chips alone will exceed their cereal bill for a month. “How many boys do you like, Emily?”

“Just one.” She says shyly.

“Then why do we need so much chocolate? May I see your recipe, please?”

The child hands Scully the printout, which details all the steps of making chocolate. “Emily, the chocolate chips in the cart are enough to make four batches of these!” Scully tries to explain to her daughter.

“No, Mommy, we need this many.” The child says firmly. “I’m going to make one for Mulder, and you’re going to make one for Mulder.”

Scully nods, and Emily goes on explaining, “And on March 14th, Ms. Natsume says it’s White Valentine’s day; that’s when boys give chocolate to girls, so Mulder will need to make two batches, one for you and one for me.”

“Aren’t you thoughtful.” Scully says while trying to think if there is any way out of having this many chocolate chips in her pantry. “Shouldn’t we ask if Mulder wants to give us chocolates?”

“Mommy, you’re so silly.” Emily states with an expression that says she has a secret. The child cannot keep a secret to save her life, that’s for sure. “Mulder’s already gotten chocolates for you and me and—”

The child suddenly realizes she’s said too much, and covers her mouth with both her hands.

“Mulder’s already gotten us chocolates?”

Emily looks concerned. “Yes, but it was supposed to be a secret.”

“Maybe we need to think about not making so much chocolate then,” Scully tries to convince her daughter. “If we still have Valentine’s chocolate, then we can’t get any Easter chocolate. No chocolate rabbits and no crème eggs, and you and Mulder will be very disappointed. He loves those crème eggs.”

“But how will Mulder know that we like him if we don’t give him chocolate?”

Scully starts moving the bag of chocolate chips back onto the shelves. “Emily, we’ll both make him a batch of chocolate together, so he’ll know. Is that okay?”

“But…” The child is still concerned. “How will Mulder be able to tell us that he likes us too?”

“Well, didn’t he already get us chocolate for Valentine’s Day?” Scully reasons.

“Yes, and spoons, and a dr—” The child catches herself again before slipping out more secrets. She presses her lips together so tight that they completely disappear.

Scully feels like teasing her little girl. “Emily?”

“Mommy,” The child covers her mouth with both hands, her voice muffled: “I can’t talk to you anymore until Valentine’s Day.”

“How’re you going to teach me how to make chocolate for Mulder?”

“Mommy!” The child whines, clearly flustered.

“Okay, baby, I won’t ask you anymore.” Scully pats the child on her back to comfort her. “Is the dress pretty?”

“Yes, it’s blue and soft and it has—” Emily’s mouth hangs open as she realizes again that she’s given out another detail to Mulder’s secret.

“Mommy!!”

50. 

She ought to kill Charlie for this.

It doesn’t matter that he’s her little brother, his favorite brother, because Charlie Scully knows his niece so well, knows his big sister so well, and somehow he seems to come to know Mulder so well after spending two weekends and a birthday party with him, that he knows his evil plan would work.

Damn Charlie.

And damn Mulder, too. For eating up Charlie’s suggestion like her mother’s blueberry pie.

Charlie’s gift arrived on Saturday. Saturday morning, when she’s still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, when Mulder’s still snoozing in his birthday suit, when Emily hasn’t even gotten up for her weekend cartoons and Apple Cinnamon Cheerios, when Wiley hasn’t started his day as a baby koala. Two delivery men knock on her door, setting off a concert of their dogs, and use a forklift to bring in her parcel while trying their best not to laugh, with her still dressed in her white fluffy bathrobe and furry slippers, wanting to scream Charlie Scully so loud that he could hear her all the way in Illinois.

With the gift in her living room—where the delivery men had left it—Scully perches her behind on the edge of it as she reads her little brother’s chicken scratch handwriting.

Dearest Dana,

Thought of you and yours on my way passing Minooka; it’s the home of the largest you-know-what in Illnois. Hopefully Little Em’s ready for some fun at this years’ C-K AutumnFest, which I plan to take her to when I visit for Thanksgiving.

I’m sure Mulder can be the fairy godmother before this real fairy comes to town.

P.S. Don’t worry, I know Mulder’s only got eyes for ya.

Love, Charlie

He didn’t even gift-wrap it.

Charlie has sent them a freaking giant pumpkin.

==

It takes Mulder an incredibly short time to jump on board with Charlie’s silly idea. Well, Scully’s not sure how much of this is Charlie and how much of it is Mulder, and to be honest, she’s taken nearly one whole roll of film on Mulder digging out the insides of the giant pumpkin with a saucepan.

The roasted pumpkin seeds aren’t bad, either.

But what Scully does not anticipate is Emily insisting on the pumpkin being her treehouse and refusing to leave once she crawls inside. Whereas Wiley is so scared of the giant pumpkin that he refuses to even stand next to it for a picture.

Her daughter has taken two meals and a snack sitting inside the pumpkin, while Scully worries about fruit flies and bad smells, Mulder seems to find nothing wrong with the arrangement.

“Emily, sweetie,” Scully bends down to speak to her child, who’s contentedly reading her favorite books inside her new pumpkin house. “Uncle Charlie wanted this to be a carriage for you. It wasn’t meant to be a house, you know.”

“But I’m not Cinderella.” The child replies. “I don’t have an evil stepmother. I don’t have evil stepsisters. I don’t want glass slippers, and I don’t want to marry Prince Charming.”

Well, the child’s logic works, Scully thinks. Maybe she needs to call Charlie, but something in her gut tells her that this might be exactly what Charlie had in mind when he sent his sister and her doofus of a husband a 700-pound giant pumpkin.

Maybe she should try to get the doofus husband’s help on extracting their child out of it. After all, he was the one who carved windows on the pumpkin; it almost took his thumb off.

==

“Baby Banana,” Mulder sticks his head and a quarter of his upper body inside the hollowed-out pumpkin. “Do you wanna come out for supper?”

“I’d like to take my supper in here, Mulder.”

Mulder lifts himself out from the pumpkin and meets Scully’s frown. Without another word, he dives in again.

“Foxi,”

“Yes, Mulder?”

“You have to come out.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because why, Mulder?”

Scully isn’t sure if she wants to listen to this. She crawls onto an armchair and wonders why she has Charlie Scully as a little brother. Sometimes she misses the day when Charlie was traveling the world, being the free spirit he was, while missing out on all the family… fun.

She quickly reprimands herself for having such a thought. She is glad to have Charlie back in her life, and he’s gotten along so well with Mulder.

Mulder.

Scully lets her focus drift back to the giant pumpkin and the love of her life with his legs sticking out, which are slowly and slowly disappearing inside the pumpkin.

Somehow Mulder has managed to crawl into the pumpkin, too. Scully quickly gets up and walks toward the giant vegetable.

“Honey, I think this is a great place.” She hears Mulder say. “But it can’t fit all three of us. And Wiley’s not even coming downstairs now.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty neat, isn’t it?” Emily responds approvingly.

“So now it fits both me and you, but what about Mommy? And Wiley? And It and Elfie and Pompom?”

The pumpkin makes his voice echoy and funny.

“Do you want some time by yourself, Emily? Is that why you decided to live in the pumpkin house?”

A moment of silence goes by before Emily answers, “Yes.”

“Why?”

“So you and Mommy can have some time together, without me.”

Hearing Mulder’s chuckle, Scully feels heat growing on her cheeks.

“Whoever gave you that idea?”

“I just think it’ll be nice, because all mommies and daddies need time to themselves.”

“That’s mighty thoughtful of you, Emily.”

Scully wonders if it’s impolite to crawl inside the pumpkin now. She would like to put her arms around her little girl.

“Tell you what. I’ll call Grandma and see if she wants some company for a few days, and maybe we’ll ask Uncle Charlie and see if he can move his visit up a little, so you can spend some time with them and I get to spend some mommy and daddy time with Mommy? But you’ll have to come out from this pumpkin house and you’ll have to listen to Mommy and me when we ask you to do something.”

“Mmmmm.”

“Do we have a deal?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Mulder.”

“Good girl. Now let’s get outta here before we both start to smell like a big ol’ pumpkin.”

Scully takes this as her cue to poke her head into the pumpkin and helps her giggling child crawl out from the vegetable.

==

Dear Charlie,

Will Fairy Godmother Charlie consider moving up his visit? Princess Emily can’t wait to visit the C-K AutumnFest with you.

Love, Dana

Charlie cannot stop laughing as he looks at the photographs of his brother-in-law and niece with their heads poking out from a giant pumpkin. It’s the best 900 dollars spent, ever.

-----

A toy rabbit for Emily beats getting an actual rabbit any day. Emily’s face cracks into a huge grin the moment her mother presents the little trinket to her. Scully just has no idea her little girl would like it so much.

It doesn’t matter that she has a trunk full of toys, made with all different materials, in all the colors of the rainbow and then some, some expensive and handmade, and all given to her with love—Emily loves the little plastic rabbit.

“I don’t think you should bring it to school,” Scully says sensibly. Mulder doesn’t understand how she can remain so calm, as this is the third time they've had this conversation.

“I won’t take it out during class.”

Emily whines, which surprisingly sounds like him, Mulder thinks.

“The school says students cannot bring their toy to school, Emmi,” Scully reasons.

“I won’t take it out of my pocket at all at school.” Emily says diplomatically.

“If that’s the case, why are you bringing it to school at all?” Mulder chimes in.

“This is my Mulder.” Emily takes out the pink-colored rabbit wearing a little yellow vest from her pocket. “Mommy, you take Mulder everywhere you go.”

Scully remains unfazed at the accusation. “I do not bring Mulder with me everywhere I go.”

“So you mean Mulder takes you everywhere he goes?”

Those big eyes dart toward Mulder’s direction.

Mulder looks at Scully, waiting to hear her reply, too.

“No, pumpkin, Mulder does not take me everywhere he goes.”

“But he’s always with you, why can’t Bunny Mulder always be with me?” Emily urges. “I’ll protect him and make sure he’s safe. I can only do that if I take him with me everywhere I go. Even to school. I promise I won’t take him out at school, and never during class. I gotta protect him real well.”

When neither of the grown-ups says anything, Emily presses on: “Isn’t that why Mulder is always with you, to protect you and keep you safe? And you can do the same for him?”

Scully looks at Mulder; her expression invites him to jump in and help.

“Well, Foxi, what are you going to do when you don’t have a pocket to put, um, Bunny Mulder in?”

Scully rolls her eyes at the downturn this conversation has taken.

“I’ll always wear something with pockets.” Emily answers as if it is the most obvious response.  

“What if you have a hole in your pocket and Bunny Mulder just slips out?” Mulder inquires with a straight face, and Scully feels like she’s listening to Emily talking to her friend Gordie, who’s seven years old.

“I don’t get holes in my pocket. All my clothes are new.” Emily promises, “I will pay extra, extra, extra attention and be extra, extra, extra careful about making sure Bunny Mulder is safe.”

Mulder glances back at Scully; he’s convinced and has sided with the girl.

With a tiny sigh, Scully tries again. “But Emily, rules are rules. What if your friends find out that you brought Bunny Mulder to school and they want to play with him too?”

Emily looks oddly offended at such a notion. “No way, I can’t risk letting anyone see Bunny Mulder and take him away from me. He’s mine. I don’t plan to share him with anyone.”

Mulder bursts out laughing, and Scully chuckles, too. “This one takes entirely after you, Fox Mulder.”

47.

It isn’t every day that she gets to take her daughter to work, Scully thinks while she and Emily stroll from the parking garage to the basement office. Emily is used to the security checks and has stayed calm in the morning rush of agents getting to their offices, but Scully notices that her daughter is holding on to her hand a little tighter than usual.

Scully knows her daughter is nervous, but Emily’s been coming to her workplace since she was 3 and a half, so she doesn’t understand why her child is fidgeting so much this morning.

“Sweetie,” she looks down and casually asks Emily, “you okay?”

The little girl pauses for a moment before answering. “Yes, Mommy.”

“You look worried.” Scully states the obvious. “How come? You were just here last week with Daddy.”

“Yes, but today is different. This time I’m expected to work.” Emily explains earnestly. “What if I get in the way of you and Daddy while you two chase a bad guy? What if you get called in to do an autopsy?”

Scully reassures Emily that Take Your Daughters and Sons to Work Day doesn’t mean the children are expected to do their parent’s job. They will just observe how Mommy and Daddy and their co-workers work.

The elevator dings behind them; Scully turns and sees a familiar face.

“Good Morning, Agent Scully.” Kimberly greets the pair, “Emily! Hello!”

Skinner’s assistant gives Emily a quick hug. “So, are the rumors true this year?” Kimberly asks.

“Which ones? That Agent Tsai will be taking his 7 kids into his office and driving everyone crazy? I look forward to them singing and playing the electronic keyboard in the break room this year.”

Mulder and Scully did not participate in this event last year since she was on maternity leave. After all, this is only the second time that the Bureau is encouraging its employees to bring their children into the workplace. There are certainly many colorful tales from the previous year that are alive and spreading this year.

“Oh no, Agent Scully,” Kimberly laughs, “the rumor that you and Agent Mulder—”

“Good morning, Kimberly!” Mulder steps out of his office. “Say hi, Wiley.”

The baby babbles and gives a wave.

“Ah, so it is.” Kimberly mutters under her breath. “Good morning, Agent Mulder. I’m here to remind you about the short meeting at the AD’s office at 10. I’ll report back to him to expect only one of you today.”

“Thanks, Kimberly.” Scully replies and watches the assistant hurry into the elevator.

She looks at Mulder with their son strapped in front of his chest. She knows that coming into the building separately was a good idea. They have always been low-key about their personal lives, but Mulder insists on participating in the event as a family this year—God knows why.

She ushers Emily into the office and points to her daughter while whispering to her husband, nervous.

Mulder frowns slightly and touches the little girl on her shoulders.

“Fox Puff,” Mulder uses the nickname only he has the privilege to use in the universe. “I have a whole list of things for you to help me with today.”

“Okay, Mulder.” The child tugs on her red jumper and glances around the room. As if on cue, a smiling face appears by the door.

“As I live and breathe! Little Spooky and Tiny Spooky are in the office with Ma and Pa Spooky! Smile, folks!”

Several very bright flashes come with shuttering sounds.

“I was so glad when I walked into the lobby and someone told me to come take snapshots of you four. What an adorable family!”

Another round of flashes and sounds appears, and Scully still looks shocked. “You should expect me showing up here and there and everywhere today. It beats the hell out of taking crime scene photos. Oops, sorry about the h-e-double hockey sticks.”

“Thanks, Agent Reno.” Mulder gracefully smiles at the older gentleman. “We’ll be around. All day.”

Scully stares at her husband. Who is he, and what has he done with Mulder?

The morning goes by in a flash. Actually, too many flashes as Agent Reno reappears 5 times before 11am. Scully watches a very happy Mulder taking an equally enthusiastic Emily into the break room for donuts and bear claws. Scully shakes her head as Mulder tries to explain to Emily his logic of filing. She is sorry to miss the happenings at the office while attending the meeting with Skinner, and returns to the office with a very jolly Uncle Walter, who borrows William, baby-strapper and all, for a brisk walk.

Mulder pleads to have takeout for lunch and goes to fetch it, leaving her sitting in one of the big chairs with her daughter and her baby boy in her lap. Emily is looking at the walls of the office, her expression serious, almost sullen.

“Mulder says we’ll reorganize the clippings in the afternoon.” Emily tells her mother. “I don’t think we’ll finish it.”

Scully can’t recall if she was this serious about work when she was Emily’s age. With a father in the Navy and a homemaker mother, she’s never participated in the Take Your Daughter to Work Day. Back then, sons were not included in this activity—but Scully doubts that Bill Mulder would have taken Little Fox to work anyway.

Sometimes, she wishes that Emily would be more like Mulder and William would be more like her. A boy can benefit from her no-nonsense approach in life.

“Food’s here,” Mulder announces with a push of the door, and Scully moves to help him unload the bags. Of course, he orders way too much again. She takes out the containers of soups and sandwiches Mulder has procured. “And I got a little present for us all.”

“A present?” Emily asks, her eyes shining.

“After lunch.” He adds.

“Pleeeease, Mulder?”

Mulder is too excited to wait, anyway, so he draws out a white paper sack. Opening the bag in slow motion, Scully acknowledges the matching glee in their eyes.

“Sunglasses!” Emily quips.

“Yep,” Mulder says proudly, “one for you, one for me, one for Mommy, and a baby pair for Wiley Coyote. Here, you wanna help him wear it?”

Mulder hands Emily the smallest pair and she takes it. Very carefully, Emily walks near her mother and places the sunglasses on the baby’s tiny face. The baby laughs and tries to grab it.

“It’s okay, Coyote.” Emily coos. “They’re spooky glasses.”

“Mulder?” Scully’s voice is light but puzzled.

“I figured Reno will come down a few more times before the day is over, and I want us to look cool.” He points at his little girl and declares proudly, “See, she rocks it.”

By 4:30, Mulder’s antsy to go home. Together, they have rearranged the filing cabinets, reorganized Mulder’s idea board (where he answers keep to nearly every clipping and photo), and Scully watches with both concern and amusement as her eight-year-old sits on Mulder’s shoulders, going around the office, pulling down every pencil that is stuck in the ceiling.

She wishes Reno were here to snap a photo of that.

When it’s time to go home, Mulder takes Emily’s hand with his left, grasps Scully’s in his right, and struts into the lobby with a one-year-old strapped to his chest as if they were heading to the beach. And as much as it is silly, they’re all donning the sunglasses. Unlike her morning timidness, Emily skips alongside Mulder, and Scully nods her farewells as Mulder bids his goodbyes to their fellow agents, which is followed by a friendly echo from their daughter.

“The Spookys have left the building,” Mulder whispers into Scully’s ear, and she bursts out in laughter.

48.

Scully listens to the sounds coming from the family room as she turns off the lights in the kitchen.

“Can I do it?” One child asks.

“No, I want to do it,” another child urges.

“You did the last one.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“I’m gonna tell Grandma!” Oh no, someone sounds like he’s about to cry.

“She’s my grandma too! She’s all our grandmas. Here.”

Scully hears her daughter’s words and laughs. She recalls saying to Bill and Charlie many decades ago that Mommy’s all our mommies. She feels proud that her little girl—who’s the big sister now—is trying to keep peace like she was when she was young.

Scully walks toward the family room to take a peek, and the smile on her face grows wider. Mulder is standing next to the Christmas tree, with their son Wiley hanging off his right arm, their daughter Emily holding onto his right leg, Bill’s son Matthew on his left leg, and Matthew’s little brother Gordon on his back…

“I thought you guys were putting the new ornaments on the Christmas tree?” Scully tries to keep a straight face.

“Mommy!” Emily greets, “It’s a Mulder treeeeee!”

This is when Scully notices that Mulder’s wearing a wreath like a crown and an ornament on each ear.

‘What are you guys doing?”

“We’re decorating a Mulder Tree!” Matthew answers; he’s big for a 5-year-old.

“Hey! It’s Uncle Mulder for you, Matthew!” Emily corrects her cousin immediately.

“Yes, an Uncle Mulder tree!” Matthew wraps his arms and legs tightly on Mulder’s leg. “Take our picture, Aunt Dana!”

Mulder mouths the word no and Scully shakes her head. Mulder, the King of Kids.

Mulder walks toward her with all four children holding on to him. He bulks up his shoulders and walks like King Kong. Scully decides to meet him halfway.

“Hey, darling,” he mutters when he’s standing next to her. “It’s the Mulder Train; room for one more.”

“Ewwwwww!” Both Emily and Matthew giggle after they pretend to barf from yuckiness.

“Where is the Mulder Train going?” Scully asks.

“It’s, um, going.” Mulder chuckles. “Which one of you is the conductor?”

“Me!”

“I am!”

The two older kids fight over who gets to be the conductor. “We’re going to the kitchen for some snacks!” Matthew suggests.

“No! It’s already too late; we’re going to bed like Grandma said!” Emily insists. “Grandma told us to hurry.”

“That’s right!” A no-nonsense voice comes from the stairs. “Oh, Fox.” Maggie laughs when she sees her son-in-law. “Give me Wiley, and I’ll take the kids up. I think Bill and Tera are already asleep.”

“My parents sleep early.” Matthew tells Emily.

“Maybe they’re just waiting for us to go to bed so they can have a grown-up party.”

“Uncle Mulder, are you guys gonna have a grown-up party later?” Matthew looks up, his eyes earnest and trusting.

“I didn’t get an invitation.” Mulder shrugs his shoulder. “Plus, we got a big day tomorrow, so I think we’re all going to bed early, right, Dana?”

“Yep,” Scully agrees, “the last one in Grandma’s room is a rotten egg!”

The two bigger children hop off Mulder’s legs and run upstairs; Scully helps Gordon down as the three-year-old struggles to keep up with the big kids.

“Thanks, Mom.” She says as Maggie takes the baby boy from Mulder’s arm.

“You two big kids, don’t stay up too late.” Maggie runs up the stairs as the children are already hollering for her.

Mulder puts an arm around his wife. “It’s nice to grow up with siblings,” he comments. “I think Emily’s getting a kick out of being with Matthew and Gordon. Too bad there isn’t another girl for her to play with.”

“She’s fine. She’s having fun.” Scully reassures him.

“I’ve always wanted to have a girl to play with, a particular one.” He lifts her off her feet, and Scully giggles. “Looks like you’re the conductor of the Mulder Train now. Where are we going?”

“I thought you were a tree?” She laughs as she asks him, sensing the train is heading towards their room.

“Scully,” Mulder says with sleepy eyes, “I was the Mulder Tree. I’m now the Mulder Train.”

“And?” She whispers playfully against his ear.

“Soon I’ll be the Mulder Gift.” He says while raining kisses over her face, “And the Mulder Blanket, the Mulder Spoon, the Mulder Mattress—I’m your Mulder Everything.”

Oh, what a way to spend the Christmas holiday.

-----

“Bossy? You think Emily is bossy?” Scully laughs. “Our Emily? The little Chiclet that looks like she could fit in your pocket? Bossy?”

Clearly this is news to Scully. She doesn’t right out deny it, but she is demanding him to provide examples and citations to support his argument, it seems.

“Yes. Bossy.” Mulder purposely sinks lower into the couch so his shoulder is touching her shoulder. “While I was on the phone with the Gunmen, she demanded for me to hand over the phone to her—bossy. Then, she told Byers that it is her bedtime, so she needs Mulder to be off the phone and reading in the next three minutes.”

Scully’s lips disappear as she tries hard not to laugh.

“What did Uncle Byers say?”

“Byers told her goodnight and hung up, but Langly called me almost immediately, and Emily won’t let me answer the phone! She said, Young gentleman, do you know what time it is?”

“Did she look like my mother when she said that?” Scully grins.

“Now that you mentioned it, she does!” Mulder emphasizes. “A little part of me had mistaken it for Bill; I guess your mom and Bill do look like a little when they’re not happy with me. And Emily, too. I was wondering when has Bill ever said that to her, because he’s always so busy playing Santa Claus with her. What did he send her last week?”

Scully quickly decides that would not be a conversation to have tonight, as she is certain that Mulder knows Bill had sent Emily another Barbie Dream House, and this time, with a pink convertible.

“So what did you do with Langly’s call?” She diverts the conversation and hopes that it’ll work.

“I had to hit the end button on my cell phone and go to her room, then I read her a story, and she went to bed looking like a little angel. How do I deal with that?”

“Well, you learn to be a parent.” She says matter-of-factly and brings his hand onto her protruding tummy.

“Didn’t she learn that…from a parent?”

“Clearly she didn’t learn it from me.” Scully says convincingly. “Do you think I’m bossy, Mulder?”

“Of course.” He watches as her eyes grow twice their size.

“Mulder!”

“Well, you’re bossy in a really cute way. And I guess Emily does it in a really cute way, too, but that’s because I keep thinking of you when she was telling me to get off the phone like my mother did when I was 15.”

“If anything, she wasn’t imitating me. She was imitating my mother, which, incidentally, sounds like what your mom used to do.” Scully crosses her arms in front of her chest, not sure if she wants to make Mulder sweat about calling her bossy.

“I mean, I don’t mind a woman who can speak her mind and stand up for people like you always do.” He playfully nudges her shoulder, bumping her anger almost completely out of the room. “But I do know other bossy women aren’t as lovely.”

Scully has to smile at that comment. She knows exactly who he’s referring to, and yes, Mulder does seem to attract a certain kind of bossy girls.

“Well, Mulder, if it makes you feel any better, I can tell Emily that she should talk to people nicely and not be so bossy, and that Mulder likes girls who aren’t bossy. She’ll always be that sweetie pie you love so much. Do you want that?”

“No, because that wouldn’t be true. I love her very bossy mother to death.” He finishes with a smile. “I do love your particular brand of bossiness, Scully.”

She stays quiet for a while before elbowing him in a spot that is ultra-ticklish, and he ducks, trying to retaliate.

“A kiss for your thoughts, Scully.” He asks after he’s successfully pinned her under him on the couch.

“My thought is only worth one kiss?” She asks.

Mulder quickly delivers a peck on her lips. “My kisses are always free for you, Scully.” He kisses her again. “Well?”

“Well,” Scully says while brushing a lock of his hair off his forehead, “I was gonna say it’s probably because Emily thinks you boys are such clueless creatures that she’s gotta be bossy to keep you all out of trouble. That’s my speculation, anyhow.”

“Ah, my Einstein,” Mulder says while kissing her left and right, “Yeah, that too. In that case, you can boss me for the rest of my life, Boss.”

They laugh so loud that it’s a wonder their bossy little girl does not wake up to implement a proper bedtime for her parents.

44. 

The little first-grader walks into his office: “Mulder, I need to talk to you.”

“Okay, Foxi,” Mulder looks up and smiles. “Am I trouble?”

Emily presses her lips together and beams at him, “No. Can we make a deal?”

Mulder chuckles. “How ‘bout this, you tell me what you want to do, and we can talk about if it’s worth doing?”

He is beginning to wonder about those parental control with their cable settling now.

“Okay. Ms. Cai says in a few days it’ll be Chinese New Year.” Emily sits down in the little chair that Mulder has specifically set up for her. This way, the father-and-daughter pair can read together. Of course, Scully’s seat is across from Mulder; they like to keep the tradition alive.

“Is she going to have a classroom party?” Mulder asks. He and Scully have both met Ms. Cai at the Open School Night last October. Ms. Cai is warm and funny, possibly the best First-Grade teacher one can ask for, and Little Emily is very taken by her. “Is it going to be a dressed-up party? Did you sign Mommy and me up to help without asking us again?”

“No, I didn’t.” Emily blushes at his mention of her signing Mommy and Daddy up to be Santa and Mrs. Claus. Of course, she herself got to be an Elf, and a pregnant Scully did look ultra-adorable in a white wig and old-lady glasses.

“I was hoping that we can celebrate Chinese New Year.” Emily says bashfully.

A corner of Mulder’s lip perks up amusingly. “But we’re not Chinese.”

“Ms. Cai says it’s okay, and she says that everyone is welcome to celebrate the Chinese New Year. There will be a parade this weekend in Chinatown, and we should all check it out.” The girl puts her palms together. “Pleeease, Mulder?”

She’s perfected the puppy-dog eyes from him, and now the student has surpassed the master.

“Bunny, why don’t you tell me how one celebrates the Chinese New Year?” Mulder inquires.

“For Chinese New Year’s Eve, people have a big feast and play games with their family. All the children must stay up after midnight so that their parents will live for a very long time.”

Realization suddenly kicks in, and Mulder now understands why his little piglet wants to celebrate the Chinese New Year. Emily’s recently found out about Mommy’s cancer in ‘97 as Scully is approaching the five-year mark.

“What do people eat for this big feast?” Mulder decides that it’s easy to grant his daughter this wish. “You’ll help me cook it, right?”

“Ms. Cai says people living in Northern China eat lots of dumplings, and other people just have a big soup with everything in it…” Emily scratches her head. “I’m not really sure what she was talking about, Mulder. What are dumplings?”

“I think we can look it up on the Internet later.” The only dumplings he’s familiar with are the Chicken and Dumplings and Apple Dumplings, and he’s pretty sure those aren’t what Chinese people eat for dinner. “What else do they do?”

“It’s a six-day celebration! On the first day of the New Year, everyone sleeps in, and we cannot cut things, and no one cleans!”

“Really?” Mulder can’t help but sound a little doubtful. “I guess that makes sense if you stay up so late on the previous night. What happens on the second day?”

“We visit Grandma. Everyone visits their mo-, mo-model grandma?”

“Oh, you mean maternal grandma. Like their mommy’s mommy?”

“Yep.” Emily nods excitedly. “So we’ll have to take the day off and go to Maryland.”

“Honey, I don’t think Mommy will be okay with you missing school…” Mulder says softly, “But go on. What do people do on the third day?”

“On the third day, people go to the great outdoors with their family and have fun in the sun!” The child’s smile is so bright that Mulder can’t help but mirror it. “We can go hiking, or we can go to the big park and feed the ducks!”

“Emmie, I think on the fourth day, people stay home and clean, right?” Mulder jokes.

“Why?” Mulder’s suggestion sparks a curiosity in the child’s eyes.

“Well, it sounds like we’re gonna be lazy butts on the first day, and going to Grandma’s on the second day, and out to play on the third… By the fourth day, wouldn’t the kitchen sink be full of dirty dishes?”

Emily giggles. “I’ll have to ask Ms. Cai about it.”

She grabs ahold of her daddy’s arm. “So Mulder, can we celebrate Chinese New Year this year?”

“You just want to stay up past your bedtime, don’t you?” He teases.

“No!” She urgently defends herself, “I want Mommy to live for a very, very long time. And you too, Mulder.”

He pulls the little girl closer to him, “You want me to live a long, long time, or do you want me to stay up with ya?”

“Both. You have to live for so long, like until I’m an old lady too. And I want you to stay up so Mommy will be around to keep you company.” Emily begs, “Please, Mulder?”

“But I’m…” He is about to say that he isn’t Scully’s child, but instead, Mulder says, “I’m sure I can convince Mommy to stay up till midnight for Grandma, too. How’s that, Baby Banana?”

Emily grabs Mulder’s hand and gives it a firm shake. “Deal!”

45. 

“I have something for you,” she whispers as if she doesn’t want anyone to know but him. “You can pick one you like.”

Mulder looks down at the child and smiles. He picks her up and places her on his lap. “What do you have, Foxi?”

Emily presents the sheet of stickers proudly. “Mrs. Wall says that I’ve been very good and so I got the whole sheet. She says I can share them with whoever I like.”

“Oh wow, Emmie, that’s great.” Mulder pats her on the arm. “Look at all these puppies and kittens!”

“Now, which one do you like?” The child asks with expectant eyes. When he doesn’t say anything, she quickly adds, “Do you want two, Mulder?”

“Oh, no, baby.” Mulder smiles politely. “I’m really happy that you want to share your sticker with me, but… I think I’m fine.”

“That’s okay, Mulder.” Emily says reassuringly, “Just pick one you like!”

“But…” He tries to let the child down easy, “I don’t have anything to put it on.”

“It’s okay, you can put it on your face!” The child suggests.

Mulder looks at her in wonderment and adoration. “Baby, grown-ups don’t put stickers on their faces.”

“You can put them on your hands, too, but they get wet when you wash them.” She tries hard to convince him. “I already put one on Wiley’s crib! A puppy that looks like It!”

Mulder thinks about this for a few moments. Sure, the guys are coming over later, and he’s sure that Scully’s already found a place to put her sticker. He better make up his mind soon.

“Thank you, Emily.” He studies the sheet of stickers and points at a Scottish Terrier. “May I have this one, please?”

“Of course, Mulder.” Emily carefully peels off the sticker. “Where are you going to put it?”

“How about over here?” He points at the little spot on his right cheek that’s closest to his ear.

Emily nods approvingly. “Here you go.”

She presses the sticker on his face several times, making sure it won't fall off.

“Thanks, Baby Banana.” Mulder lowers his little girl onto the floor, and she skips happily out of the room.

Twenty minutes later, Mulder greets the guys with the Scottie on his cheek. Byers stifles his laughter, Frohike looks confused, and Langly laughs so hard he can’t stand up straight.

“Thanks, guys,” Mulder deadpans. “Emily! Your uncles are here! Scully! I need you to come here, please!”

The child runs to the front door, waving the big sheet of stickers in her hand. Mulder watches Emily offering her precious stickers to Byers, Frohike, and Langly, and photographs each of them as she places stickers on their forehead, chin, and cheek.

Thank you for our wonderful baby, Mulder mutters as he places tiny kisses around the spot where he has put an orange kitten on Scully’s cheek, as the both of them watch Emily giggle in glee with her doting uncles. 

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