Fourth of July
by Susan Proto
Date: Fri, 26 Jun 1998
Category: Story, Angst, MulderTorture, Mulder/Scully UST
Rating: PG13 for language and minor mention of Violent Images
Spoilers: Very minor mentions/spoilers from Fire, Duane Barry and abduction
arc to Emily.
Summary: Mulder returns to the Scully house for yet another traditional
family get together, with almost tragic results.
Archive: Yes
Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully & Mrs. Scully, Charles, Tara & Matthew Scully, &
Charles Scully belong to 10/13 productions and Chris Carter. I'm just
borrowing them. I won't keep them. At the end of the story you can have `em
back, I swear, (unless you *want* to give `em to me.) All other characters
belong to me, and if Mr. Carter wants to borrow them, all he needs to do is
ask. <grin>
Introduction: Well, I wasn't planning on it, but some have made the request
and so here it is: a follow-up to "Birthday Barbecue." I would strongly
suggest you read that one first, as I believe you'd gain a better perspective
of where our hero is coming from in this story. "Fourth of July'' is written
in the same style of "Birthday Barbecue" too, (and, by now, we all know how
nervous first person narration makes Susan, now don't we??)
Flames will be noted, but constructive feedback will be appreciated
acknowledged!
As always, thank you Vickie Moseley for being my CyberMuse on this one too!

Fourth of July
by Susan Proto (STPteach@aol.com)
Part 1/3

It's only the fifteenth time I've driven around the block. There are cars
lined up the entire street, both sides, but there are some spaces available.
I'm still not sure if this was the wisest thing to do. Maybe I'll just head
home. Yeah.. I'll just head home, and nobody will be the _____.
CHIIRRRPPPP!
Damn cell phone. She's found me. She didn't even know I was lost, and she's
gone and found me anyway. Or maybe she did know. Maybe.
"Mulder," I answer.
"Mulder, it's me. Where are you?" Scully asks.
"Actually, I'm___," I hesitate. Can I lie to her? Can I say something's come
up and I'm sorry, but I can't make it? Yeah. Right. This is Scully I'm
talking to. Not a chance. "__I'm actually on the block. I'm trying to find
a parking space," I finally say.
"Oh, well, just squeeze in anywhere! C'mon, Mom's been asking for you.
Charlie's here and wondering where you are also," she says excitedly.
"Okay, I'm coming. I'm coming. I see a space. I'm going to park. Be there
in a few minutes, Scully."
CLICK.
I'm not sure where this habit of just hanging up the phone on one another
comes from. I mean, it's not like I'm being rude, it just saves time. Scully
does it to me too. I don't know, it's as if the cell phones are merely an
extension of ourselves, as if we are speaking to one another face to face.
You don't say goodbye to each other when you're face to face, do you? I don't
think we ever have. It's almost like we refuse to ever say good-by to one
another. It's like this unspoken rule between us. If you say good-bye, you
might really never see one another again. So, why tempt the fates?
I park the car and find myself walking up the street towards Mrs. Scully's
house. I haven't been here since Memorial Day weekend, and I'm feeling a
little nervous. Though there were many good things that resulted from that
weekend, there were a couple of not so good reasons which give my stomach a
reason to do a few thousand somersaults. I walk up to the front door.
Just as I'm about to knock, the door opens. Standing before me is one of the
good things that happened. I watch as Scully stands up on her tiptoes to
greet me with a light kiss on the lips. The last time I was here, Scully kind
of let me know she thought our relationship might have a chance to go beyond
the professional partnership stage.
"Hi," I say after returning the kiss. "How'd you__?"
"I saw you walking up the street. I was kind of keeping an eye out for you
for the last fifteen minutes or so__," she says.
"Oh." Snagged. "You saw me looking for a space, huh?" I try to cover myself,
but this is Scully I'm talking to.
"I saw you procrastinating and trying to come up with an excuse not to come
in," she replies.
Yup, that's my Scully. I can't keep anything from this woman. And for some
strange reason, I find this very comforting.
"Come on G-Man, the family's waiting to see you," she says brightly. "By the
way, love the Bermuda khakis," she adds, chuckling.
"It's ninety degrees out, Scully," I retort, wondering if she really likes
them or is merely teasing me.
"If that's the case, then may it be ninety degrees for the rest of our
lives,"
she says as I notice her very obviously eyeing my butt.
I laugh and let her then lead the way. I actually feel pretty good now. I
always look forward to seeing Mrs. Scully. The woman holds a special place
in
my heart ever since Scully had been abducted. Mrs. Scully kind of helped me
to stay sane. Even Melissa Scully, may she rest in peace, was able to help
me
keep my priorities straight. There's something about the Scully women and
me. They're good for me.
Just as I'm thinking this, I feel vice like pincers on the hairs of my bare
calf and knee. I look down, and see, to my utter amazement, Bill and Tara
Scully's son, Matthew, grabbing onto my leg for dear life, while Charlie and
Karen's kids, Briana and Daniel, are making these very loud growling and
roaring sounds, scaring the poor baby half to death.
I bend down to pick up Matthew who is so frightened he doesn't even realize
I'm not his father. I suspect once he does, he will begin howling, but for
now I provide him a safe haven from the two whirling dervishes.
"Hey you guys," says Scully, "what are you doing to poor Baby Matthew?"
"We're playing 'Monster,'" says four year old Briana, the more brazen of the
two siblings.
"Yeah, we're playing monster," echoes six year old Daniel.
"Yeah, well, I'm not too sure Matthew wants to play 'Monster' with you
guys,"
I say.
I realize my speaking was probably a mistake as Matthew picks his once
buried
head up from my shoulder and takes a good look at me. I can see the poor kid
trying to assimilate this new information.
Man. Saved life. Not Daddy. Cry or not to cry? That is the question.
"MATTHEW!" shouts the harsh male voice.
The question is now answered. Cry. With gusto. I look up to confirm what I
already know. The voice belongs to Bill Scully.
"What the hell did you do to him?" Bill asks angrily as he literally grabs
the baby out of my arms.
"I __, I __," I try to answer him. I don't know what it is about this
bastard
that always reduces me to a stuttering fool.
"__We was playing 'monster,' Uncle Billy. We was the monsters, and we was
'scareding' Matty," brags Briana.
"Bill," Scully interjects, "they scared the child half to death and he
literally attached himself, like a leech, to Mulder's leg. Mulder picked him
up to comfort him."
"Oh yeah? Well, I don't want him__," Billy begins in foolish retort.
"__Don't be a shmuck, Billy. Say thank you to the man for rescuing your
child
from being traumatized for life," Scully says sarcastically, but with a
touch
of seriousness for good measure.
Billy couldn't do it. He couldn't look at me and say thank you. Hell, he
couldn't look at me. He just walked away, holding onto Matthew for dear
life,
as if I were some plague that would befall him and his son.
I wish I knew exactly why the man hates me so much. Not that I'm looking to
be his best friend, mind you, but still, he's Scully's big brother. She
loves
him. I want to be at the very least acceptable in his eyes, and I'm not.
I'm so tired of feeling rejected by people and not knowing the reason why.
My own father rejected me. Well, now that I think of it, I kind of know the
reason for that. I mean, I lost my sister. He couldn't blame himself, so he
blamed me, and I blamed myself. He was my father, and supposedly knew
everything, right? So, I had no choice but to believe him. I had to believe
it was my fault Sam was abducted.
My own mother rejected me. Well, I kind of know the reason for that as well.
When I lost Sam, Mom not only lost a daughter, she lost a husband. Dad
started drinking all of the time after Sam was gone. When Dad wasn't been
yelling and __, well, yelling, at me, he was yelling at Mom. She decided to
go for a good defense and began taking Valium by the handful. I guess
hearing
Dad yell all day and night while in a drugged stupor made life more
palatable
for her. Since I was the reason behind the troubles, I didn't matter too
much
to her anymore.
Of course, then Samantha came back, or rather, was brought back to me, but I
was rejected by her too. Well, I kind of know the reason for that too.
Cancer Man told her all of these lies, and she believed him rather than me.
Well, who could blame her. I mean, I couldn't save her, but she remembered
him saving her. He raised her as his daughter. Imagine, the Cancer Man a
father.
So now Bill rejects me, and though I pretend I don't understand why, I
really
do know the reason for it. I'd lost his sister for three months. I was the
reason for her being given a deadly form of cancer. I was the reason she was
in constant danger, all because the powers that be, whoever the hell _they_
are, want to use me to promote their crazy plans of alien colonization.
God, I still don't understand it all. How could I? I doubt they even
understand all of the ramifications for what they've gotten themselves into.
All I do know is I've tried to get Scully to leave me in order to save
herself. But she refuses to go.
Thank God.
"Well it's about time!" cries out Mrs. Scully as she reaches out to hug me.
"Where have you been, Fox? We've been waiting for you!"
"Hi Mrs. Scully," I say as I return the hug and kiss her lightly on the
cheek.
"What's this 'Mrs. Scully' business?" she asks. "I thought we had an
agreement." When I looked her quizzically, she explains, "Mom. You're
supposed to call me 'Mom.'"
I looked at her with my mouth open. I thought that was a one shot deal. I
mean, when I'd last seen her it was her birthday, and I'd given her this
mushy
card about how she was like a mother to me, and then she said I should call
her__. I didn't think it was a forever kind of deal.
I didn't have to many forever kind of deals, you know?
"Are you sure?" I ask in astonishment.
"Of course, I'm sure."
"But what about __," I'm about to ask about how her family feels about it,
but
she cuts me off. She knows it's not the family in general I'm worried about.

"__Billy? Fox, Billy's a big boy. He'll learn to deal with it. Don't you
worry about Billy, dear." She grabs my arm and leads me to an older woman I
remember from Memorial Day.
"Fox, you remember my friend, Irene, don't you?" she asks.
"Of course I do. You made Mrs. __, umm, Mom's birthday cake, didn't you."
"Ahh, you do have a good memory, Fox. I made the one for today, too," she
responds sweetly.
"It's amazing, Fox. It's one of those flag cakes with the blueberries and
strawberries. But Irene is always doing something a little different to make
her cakes unique," describes Maggie Scully.
"Oh Maggie, there's nothing different or unique about a little rum added to
the batter!" Irene chided.
"Oh, but it makes it taste so good, Irene!"
"I'll bet it does," I add. Of course, the fact I'd sworn off rum a very long
time ago didn't matter. These sweet ladies didn't need to know how I'd
drowned my sorrows in rum and cokes after Phoebe left me. To this day, I get
nauseous at the mere thought of rum.
"Excuse me ladies, but I see Charlie and I'd really like to say hello to
him."
Mrs. Scully, or rather 'Mom' reaches up and kisses me again on the cheek. "I
so glad you decided to stay, Fox," she whispers to me.
As I walk away, wondering how she knows I'd been having my doubts about
coming
in, I hear Irene say, "What a lovely young man. He's perfect for Dana,
Maggie.
Just perfect."
"I know," says Maggie. "Now if they'll just figure that out."
"Perhaps they just need a little nudge," Irene says.
"I'm nudging, Irene! I'm nudging," responds Maggie with a laugh.
I chuckle to myself as I listen to the modern day 'Yentas' do their thing.
I walk towards Charlie Scully, who is in the midst of lecturing Tweedle Dum
and Tweedle Dee. Those two are a handful.
"Briana, you are not to touch any of those packages, is that understood?
Your
Uncle Bill brought them here, but not for you to touch. Do I make myself
clear, young lady?" he says in a much sterner voice than I'd have expected.
"Yes, Daddy," responds a very contrite Briana.
"And you, young man! You're older. You're supposed to know better. You're
supposed to watch out for your little sister," he says and I cringe when I
hear the all too familiar sounding words.
I think to myself, don't do that to him, Charlie. He's just a little boy.
You shouldn't burden a little boy with that kind of responsibility. I'm
brought out of my reverie by young Daniel's words.
"I'm sorry, Daddy. I didn't know we weren't s'posed to touch it. I'm sorry,"
Daniel says through tears. "I'll be good. I'll watch Bria better, I promise.
Don't be mad at me, please?"
My heart is breaking as I listen to this poor little boy pleading with his
father to forgive him. I remember a similar conversation between another
young boy and his father.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They had just returned from the hospital. Their father carried Samantha, who
was all swaddled in bandages. Their mother was cooing to her, telling her
she
was home now and everything was going to be all right.
She smiled at her son when she saw him, and told him his sister was going to
be fine in a few weeks. She then followed their father up the stairs to
settle Samantha into her bedroom.
When his father came back down, he called his son's name with as angry a
tone
as he'd ever heard.
"FOX! Come in here, NOW!"
His father's face showed a fury Fox had rarely seen. His father rarely had
anything to do with him, as he was always busy with work. He seemed to have
a
genuine affection for Samantha, and was demonstrative toward her, but never
him. So, this raging anger he was directing toward him was a new experience
indeed.
And it frightened him greatly.
"How could you not watch her? How could you let her fall off that swing. I
left you in charge, God damn it!" the deep voice boomed out with fury.
"Daddy, I was watching her, but the rope broke. I didn't know the rope would
break. I'm sorry, Daddy. I didn't mean for Sammy to get hurt. I'll watch
her better next time, I promise," the young boy pleaded. "Please, don't me
angry with me, Daddy. Please."
"Get out of my sight. You're worthless. I can't even trust you to watch your
little sister. Her shoulder's broken, you know. And it's all your fault,
because you couldn't follow one simple little direction. Watch. Your.
Sister.
That's all. Get out of here," he shouted as he picked up the bottle of
whiskey and poured himself a glass.
"Worthless, that's what you are... just plain worthless," the father
continued
to mutter, while the little boy practically crawled out of the office den,
as
he felt that low, that worthless. Just like his father said.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Daddy? Please?" cries out Daniel.
I'm about to demand Charlie forgive the child right then and there, but
Charlie acts before I can even get a word out.
"Oh Daniel, of course I forgive you. Come here, son. Breeka-deeka , you come
here too." Charlie envelopes both children in a bear hug. "Daniel, I'm
sorry."
My ears perk up when I hear Charlie say that. He's apologizing to Daniel? I
was totally confused for a moment. Then I hear him explain.
"Daniel, I had no right to expect you to take on that kind of
responsibility.
You're six years old, and I shouldn't expect you to be able to resist the
brightly colored packages the fireworks come in."
Fireworks. Now understanding is beginning to dawn on me. That's why Charlie
was so angry.
"No, I don't blame you, but I am going to ask you both to do a something
very
grown-up," Charlie begins. "Do you think you can do it?"
"Yes, Daddy. We can do it," both children answer together so happy to be
back
in their father's good graces.
"When ever you see something that looks like it could be lots of fun to play
with, but it's not yours and you're not absolutely sure what it is, I want
you
to promise me you won't touch it until you ask me or Mommy, or some other
grown-up," Charlie says.
"Like Grandma Maggie?" pipes up Briana.
"Yes, sweetheart."
"What about Aunt Dana, or__," Daniel pauses and when he sees me, adds, "or
Uncle Mulder?"
"Yep, Aunt Dana or Uncle Mulder would be perfect, Daniel," Charlie responds.

I find myself smiling from ear to ear at the moment. Did I just hear Charlie
say I'd be perfect? Whoa. Never heard that word and my name in same sentence
before. I'd never heard myself called "Uncle" Mulder before either.
The sad thing is, I really am an Uncle. Samantha told me she had kids when I
saw her in the diner those many months ago. I really am an Uncle Mulder, or
perhaps even an Uncle Fox. I wouldn't care, actually.
The kids could call me Uncle Fox. I would never deny them that.
Next thing I hear is Charlie saying, "I love you guys, you know that doncha?
The only reason I got so angry is because I was so scared you two would get
hurt. I love you and I want you both to be safe, okay?"
"Yeah, Daddy. I love you too," both Briana and Daniel say and then they're
hugging and kissing Charlie, and he's hugging and kissing them right back.
My stomach lurches a little at the sight of this. I swear, if I didn't know
any better, I'd think I was the tiniest bit jealous. I just couldn't be sure
of who. Seems to me all three of them were getting the best of it.
I watch as Charlie gives each of his children a love swat on their rears and
sends them off to play. He then looks back at me, and offers me his hand. I
take it gladly. I like this man. I like this man a lot.
"Hey Mulder. How are you? It's really good to see you again," he says
smiling.
I'm amazed at how good this man makes me feel. I feel like Sally Field at
the
academy awards. He likes me. He really likes me.
"It's good to see you again too, Charlie. Actually, I'm surprised you and
Bill were able to come into town again so soon," I say.
"You and me both. It seems months can go by before I have the opportunity to
come to Maryland to Mom and Dana, but then every now and then, the 'when it
rains, it pours' syndrome comes into play. Two holidays in a row is a
record.
I was able to make it in because of some military hoopla they're having in
DC
that I get to partake in. Get to wear my dress uniform and everything," he
adds with a smirk.
"I take it you love hooplas that require you to wear your dress uniform as
much as I do?" I ask knowingly.
"Let's put it this way. Bill's in for the same function, and he _loves_
wearing his dress uniform." I chuckle out loud, since I understand exactly
what he's driving at, but then he adds, "But I guess it's a small price to
pay
to get a freebie trip to the area, and I get to see Mom and Dana. I even get
to see Tara and Matthew. And him."
I see Charlie's expression change to disdain when he refers to his brother.
"What happened?" I ask, not knowing if it's any of my business and wondering
if Charlie will tell me just that.
"My brother, the shmuck," he says and I think to myself, that's the second
time I've heard him referred as that today, so there must be some truth to
it,
"decided the National Fourth of July Fireworks Extravaganza wasn't good
enough
for him. He decided he had to bring his own fireworks.
"He'd told me a friend of his picked up a shit load of them in Pennsylvania,
where they're apparently legal to buy. Well, my idiot brother brought a
fairly large carton's worth with him and unloaded them on the old worktable
in
the garage. Guess whose two little curious kittens found them? Scared the
hell out of me. God, he's such an idiot! What would ever possess him to
bring those things here, with kids around.
"Damn, I doubt it's even legal to have them in Maryland, and even if it
were,
why would anyone want to take the chance?" I look at him and simply murmur
my
sympathy and agree with him. He then says, "Shit, listen to me go on and on.
You don't need to be hearing me get on my soapbox."
"Charlie,'' I say. I don't know if I'm out of line here or not, but I feel
I've got to say something. "I just want to tell you how impressed I was with
the way you handled the situation with your kids. It's important for a child
to hear his parents love him, even when they may have done something wrong."

Charlie looks at me thoughtfully, so I continue. "It's even more important
to
let them know it's okay for them to be a kid and make mistakes. Parents have
to let their kid know they'll love him no matter what. You did that for
Briana and especially for Daniel. You remembered he's just a little kid,
Charlie. You did good.
"I mean, I'm no expert here. I'm not a parent, and I don't pretend to be.
But I was a kid once. You did real good, Charlie."
Charlie looks at me and I'll be damned if the man doesn't look like his eyes
are a little teary. "Charlie, I didn't mean to upset you," I say
apologetically.
"No! I'm not upset at all. In fact you just did something I never thought
I'd ever get," Charlie replies. When I look at him with puzzlement all over
my face, he continues.
"My father had seen Daniel only twice. Between his limited shore leave and
mine, our schedules so very rarely meshed. Oh sure, I'd sent video tapes,
but
it was never quite the same as being there and having your father see you
with
your child. Dad never did see Briana in person.
"The last time he'd seen Daniel, Karen had fairly recently given birth and
couldn't travel. So her mom stayed with her while I brought Daniel here to
visit with his Grandpa. I never really heard Dad say I was doing a good job.
I mean, I figured he thought I was, but he never came right out and said it.
Maybe cause he figured he'd have all the time in the world to do so.
"But he didn't, did he. So__," he pauses and looks right at me, "thank you,
Mulder, for giving me an affirmation that I'm doing this right. It means a
lot to me that you'd take the time to tell me, and it really does do my
heart
good."
I simply stare at him at this point. I haven't any idea as to what to say to
this. He thinks I gave _him_ an affirmation. Jeeze, how do I explain to him
there are so few people in my life that seem to give a damn about what I say
on any given subject. The fact that he, a man whom I admire, finds comfort
in
my words has me speechless.
Charlie seems to sense my astonishment and invites me to find some
sustenance.
"C'mon Mulder. Since your mouth is wide open, we might as well find some
food
to shove into it," he says grinning.
I close my mouth. Then I laugh as well, and follow the man who knows where
the food is. I look around and see Briana and Daniel playing quietly with
her
Barbie Secret Agent dolls and his toy match box cars.
I also see Matthew creeping around, not tethered to any adult that I could
see. I thought about saying something, but this was Billy's son, and I know
he would just bitch at me for meddling into his business, and I had no right
putting my nose into how he raises his son and__.
Nope, I realize to myself, it is definitely not worth the potential hassle
to
say anything. There are enough adults around that could do that instead of
me, and they won't get their heads chopped off.
No, I'm going o see what's on the ol' barbecue. Scully promised me she'd see
to it there'd be some skewered shrimp for me, since I've sworn off red meat
and chicken for the rest of my life.
But I've discovered fish, and since I know shrimp and lobster don't bleed,
they've become my number one favorite dishes. Unfortunately I have expensive
tastes now, so I don't eat it very often. I usually stick with flounder or
scrod, or even scallops when they're on sale. But mostly, I order Chinese
take out or pizza.
But today, Scully promised me shrimp. I look around again, and something
begins to niggle at me. I don't quite know what it is, but as I survey the
area, something bothers me.
I wish I knew what it was.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
End of Part 1/3
Part 2/3
Scully's made good on her promise, and I'm sitting here, chowing down on the
best barbecued shrimp I've had in a long time. I'm even eating the grilled
veggies, and for some reason that makes my partner ecstatic.
"I knew one day I'd get you to treat your body better," she says.
"Oh Scully, let's face it. The only reason I'm eating like this is 'cause
Albert Diamond was a demented sonofabitch who did things that still give me
nightmares."
I suspect she still flashes back every now and then to that horrific scene
too, so she doesn't argue with me. Instead, she comes over and gives me a
light kiss on the forehead. I'm slightly taken aback, cause Scully had never
been demonstrative in public before.
Not that I don't like it. I like it. Oh yeah, I like it a lot. Now the
question is, will she allow me to repay her in kind? Well, only one way of
finding out, so I put my plate down and grasp her wrist. She looks down at
me
from her standing position, and I gently pull her down to my lap.
A miracle occurs.
She doesn't fight me.
"Come here G-Woman," I say softly, and as she leans in to me, I brush my
lips
to hers and give her the softest, most gentle kiss I'm capable of giving.
A second miracle occurs.
She kisses me back.
Now I know I look like a total idiot, because I can just feel myself
grinning
from ear to ear, and I can't stop. My Scully kissed me. In public, in front
of her friends, her family, her mother, her brothers.
Her brother.
Shit.
Billy is looking straight at me. Not at Scully, but at me. I don't know what
to do. I want to stand my ground. I don't want him to think he can
intimidate me, (hell, I know he can't intimidate his sister) but I also
don't
want to be openly aggressive. I'll be damned if I'm gonna let him make me
feel like the bad guy here.
Scully notices for the first time I'm not staring into her beautiful baby
blues but, rather, across the backyard at her stupid ass older brother.
"Mulder, what's wrong?" she asks.
"Scully, look at him. I mean, if there's some truth to that old saying, 'if
looks could kill,' I'd be a dead man right now," I reply.
"When are you going to realize Billy is nothing more than big blowhard?" she
asks rhetorically.
"Scully, I hate it that he can't stand the sight of me."
"Mulder, Billy is a strange duck sometimes. Once he gets a notion in his
head, it takes a small miracle to make him change his mind. I don't know
what
to tell you, except to try and not let him bother you. It's my feelings you
need to be concerned about, not my fool for a brother," she admonishes.
I give her another kiss (to which she reciprocates, thank God) and then
watch
her return to the kitchen to see if her mom needs help. I return to my
shrimp
when I hear Charlie speaking a little louder than usual.
"Tara, I don't know. Briana and Daniel are right here. I haven't seen
Matthew. Isn't he with Billy?" he asks.
"No, he thought he was with me. Oh God, where could he have crawled to?" she
cries out.
I put my plate down, and stand up to offer my assistance. Billy,
unfortunately, has joined us upon hearing his wife's anxious words.
''Can I help?" I ask softly.
"Mulder, get the hell out of here. We don't need your help," Billy
practically shouts.
"Oh shut up, Bill, of course we need his help," retorts Tara. It's good to
see Matthew has at least one sensible parent.
"I'll go looking around the side of the house," I say.
"Oh please, how the hell would he get all the way over there?" Bill asks
stubbornly.
"I thought I saw him crawling around in that direction," I say tentatively.
"You thought? Oh jeeze, Mulder. Get away from me, okay? I'll go find
Matthew, Tara," Billy says as he stalks off in the opposite direction.
"Mulder, I'm sorry. I don't know why he__," Tara begins.
"__Tara," I interrupt, "don't worry about it. Let's just go find the baby,
okay?" She nods and I walk to the side of the house, toward the garage.
I look around and gently call out Matthew's name. I don't want to scare him,
since I remember his last reaction when he found himself in my arms. As I
walk closer to the garage, I hear a soft coughing. I walk faster to the
opened garage and look in. I don't see anything at first, but as I walk in
farther I see the workbench I'd heard Charlie speak of. And on top of it are
the brightly colored boxes of fireworks.
Then I notice some of the boxes scattered on the floor, and near a small
pile
is Matthew, happily chomping away on one of the fireworks. I think it was
once one of those little helicopters.
"Matthew, no!" I cry out and quickly rush to pick him up. He, of course,
immediately starts crying and I find myself trying to desperately wipe his
mouth since I can't tell if he's gnawed through the box to the area where
the
gunpowder is stored.
When I stick my finger in his mouth to sweep it clean of any debris, he's
screaming his bloody head off. And who comes to our rescue?
"What the hell did you do to him now?" Billy growls.
"Oh give it a break, Billy. The kid was gnawing on the God damned fireworks
you brought. I was just checking to see if he had anything of it left in his
mouth," I explain in exasperation.
"If anyone is going to check my child, it'll be me. I don't want you
touching
him, Mulder. You're bad luck. When you're around, bad things happen. Do you
understand? Just stay away from him," Billy demands.
Once again he grabs his son from me, and poor Matthew's screams become even
louder. I watch him walk away with the child, and I feel myself begin to
shake.
I am so pissed off at the moment I want to scream. What the hell is the
matter with that imbecile? For crying out loud, if the kid ate the gun
powder, he'd have to probably have his stomach pumped!
"DAMN!" I do scream at the top of my lungs. I really can't take this
anymore.
I don't deserve the shit this idiot is dishing out to me. "DAMN YOU!" I
shout
again. I can't stop shaking. I can't remember the last time I felt this
angry.
A few moments pass and Mrs. Scully comes into the garage. She looks over and
we make eye contact, but I'm trembling so badly I can't bring myself to
speak.
I'm afraid if I speak now, I might say something that could certainly hurt
Mrs. Scully's feelings, and I don't want to do that. So I keep my mouth
shut.
Mrs. Scully comes to my side and touches my shoulder. I'm amazed how that
simple touch helps to center me. I manage to catch my breath, though I'm
unable to calm myself totally yet. But I also don't want to keep Mrs. Scully
away from her party and guests.
"I'm okay," I say. So what if my teeth are clenched together so tightly
Scully could easily diagnosis lockjaw.
"That's good, dear. Why don't we wait another few minutes?"
A wise woman, this Maggie Scully. I realize (and I suspect Mrs. Scully does
too,) if I leave the garage at this point I will probably go immediately to
William Scully, Jr. and rip his throat out.
The guy is really starting to get on my nerves.
So I wait. And I wait some more.
Several minutes pass. I think I've finally regained control of my anger. I
hope so.
"Mrs. __," I stop when she gives me the patented Scully 'look.' "Mom,'' I
begin, "I think I'm okay now. Thank you." I'm able to speak in a much calmer
and controlled manner. I believe Mrs. Scully senses I really am okay at this
point.
"You're welcome, Fox. Let's go inside first and get you some nice, fresh,
iced tea, and then we'll greet the rest of the world again. Okay?"
"Sounds like a plan, Mom." Funny, that time the word flowed out of my mouth.
Guess I'm getting used to the idea of having a Mom who cares. Or at least is
able to show she cares. Maggie Scully doesn't ask me what happened, though I
suspect she has an idea, as she must have passed Billy and heard Matthew's
cries. I squeeze her hand once to let her know I really am okay now, and
follow 'Mom' into the kitchen.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By the time I return to the backyard, with a second glass of fresh, iced tea
in my hand, everyone appears to have calmed down enough to let the party go
back into full swing. The sky is beginning to darken now, and the plan is to
watch the town fireworks right from Mrs. Scully's backyard.
"What time does the show begin, Mom?" I ask quietly. Yeah, I can get used to
this family stuff.
"Oh, it usually begins sometime after nine o'clock. About a half hour or
so,"
she says.
"Well I say it's time to start the pre-game show!" Billy announces
excitedly.
"Billy, don't even think about it," Charlie says.
"Oh Charlie, stop being such a wuss. These are perfectly safe," Billy
rebuffs.
"Billy, I really don't want you fooling around with this stuff with the kids
here," Charlie says more adamantly.
"Then bring your kids inside, Charlie," Billy says in a huff as he walks off
to get the fireworks from the garage.
"Mom, are they even legal in Maryland?" Karen asks in support of her
husband.
"I don't know for sure, sweetheart. I suspect they're not, but people have
been setting them off for the last couple of days, so I don't know how
strictly they enforce the law here," replies Mrs. Scully.
I observe Billy carrying the boxes of fireworks in what looks like a
portable
playpen. He unloads the boxes and hands the playpen to Tara. "Here," he
says, "set this up over by Mom so Matty will be safe."
I notice Tara takes it reluctantly, and then hear her say, "Billy, maybe I
should bring the baby in with Briana and Daniel. The noise may frighten
him."
"Tara, don't be ridiculous. I want this to be a really special fourth of
July
for him. C'mon, this is going to be fun."
Now Tara grudgingly carries the portable playpen over to where Mrs. Scully
and
Irene are sitting. I stay on the opposite side, near Scully, wondering if I
dare to open my mouth. I mean, there are, after all, not one but two federal
agents sitting in the backyard, and el Shmucko is ready to break all kinds
of
laws.
But I know Scully is going to indulge him. He's her big brother and she
doesn't wish to fight this particular battle. I figure I'm already on his
shit list, so I keep quiet. I'm not particularly in the mood for another
battle tonight either.
Everyone moves back and Billy takes center stage. Just as he liked being in
charge of the barbecue, he enjoys the attention he's receiving from this
little sideshow too. He lights some stationary roman candles that he's set
into the ground, and I have to admit, they really do make a pretty sight.
Everyone at this point is oooohing and ahhhhing appropriately. Next he sets
up the little tanks on the slate patio, and we watch them shoot toward one
another, making crackling sounds and moving about at a speed much faster
than
I'd anticipated.
Billy continues to stage his little show, and I'm starting to relax a
little.
Even Daniel and Briana are watching from the back window, and Matthew has
somehow managed to fall asleep amidst all of the racket.
It's nearing nine o'clock and Billy announces it's time for the grand
finale.
He sets up several roman candles, another stationary piece called a Chinese
lantern, a few tanks and something new for the finale, some helicopters.
Now, I assume the helicopters do more than just whirl around on the ground,
so
I become more attentive at this point. I don't know why, but I have a bad
feeling in my gut. It's times like these I understand how I got my nickname.
Sometimes I even spook myself.
"Okay, Mom. Turn the music up and let's party! Present," Billy announces
dramatically, "the grand finale!"
Billy lights the roman candles, the tanks and then the Chinese lantern.
While
everyone is mesmerized by the beautiful colors of the lantern, he bends down
to light the first of the four helicopters.
Suddenly, everyone is looking skyward as the first helicopter takes off,
whirling straight up into the sky. As it burns off the gunpowder, the
remnants fall back down to earth, and Billy lights helicopter number two.
This one follows the same track, and once again Billy's audience gasps its
pleasure at seeing the colors and the flight of it.
Finally, Billy bends down and lights the third and fourth helicopter one
right
after the other. We watch as number four shoots straight up, but number
three
appears to be a dud. "Happens once in a while," he says, "No biggie."
But just as we assumed the show was over, the so-called dud catches fire and
takes off. Except it's not a vertical flight, it's more of a horizontal one.
Everyone's first inclination is to run like hell away from it, and I don't
blame them. There's no telling where the sucker might land, and since
there's
gunpowder in it, I wouldn't want to be around if it explodes.
Of course, that would be true if I didn't notice the damn thing heading
straight for Baby Matthew's playpen. So, while everyone else ran in the
opposite direction, I, of course, run directly towards it. All I can think
of
is the baby.
I know people are screaming. I hear them, but everything sounds like it's in
slow motion. I think I hear Scully yelling, "Mulder, no!" but my feet are
moving and they won't stop.
Can't stop.
The baby.
Gotta save the baby. Gotta save him.
Gotta stop the bad things from happening, gotta stop the bad
thingsgottastopthebadthingsgottastopthebadthing__.
I dive into the playpen, and the ridiculous thing is all I can think about
at
that moment is, Billy's going to be pissed that I broke the playpen and he's
going to make me pay for it.
But I dive into the playpen anyway and cover the baby with my body. The damn
helicopter lands right next to leg. Figures, I'm wearing my Bermuda khaki
shorts which of course offer my poor leg absolutely no protection against
gun
powder burns.
BOOM!
Damn! That burns! The baby is crying again. I swear, this child is going to
be permanently traumatized by me. Every time he sees me, he's going to go
into hysterics simply by associating me with every horrible thing that's
happened today.
Maybe Billy's right. Maybe bad things happen because I'm around. Damn. My
leg really hurts. It feels like it's burning straight through to the bone. I
hear groaning and at first think it's the baby. Then I realize the baby's
crying; it's me whose groaning.
I feel someone leaning over me now. Scully. It's got to be Scully. "The
baby?" I moan, "Is the baby okay?"
I now feel someone rolling me to my side and reach in for Matthew. Poor kid,
I probably crushed him to death. Oh God, I hope I didn't hurt him. Great, I
go to save him and probably do him more damage than the damn explosive would
have done.
And then someone moves my leg, and I scratch that last thought. Oh God, my
leg really hurts. I wonder if I didn't really screw myself up this time. I
hear people's voices, but it's all hazy now. The burning pain in my leg is
all that's on my mind. I really wish I had eaten some of Irene's rum cake.
Rum always knocked me out.
I'd like to be knocked out at the moment. Scully? Would you please read my
mind right now and knock me out. I think I'd like to go into a blissful
state
of unconsciousness about now.
It hurts, Scully. Oh God, it hurts so bad.
"I know, Mulder. The paramedics are on the way. You'll get something for the
pain soon, very soon," Scully says.
Funny, I hadn't realized I was even talking aloud. And she sounds like she's
in a wind tunnel of sorts. "The baby?" I ask again. Aloud, I think.
"Matthew's fine, Sweetheart. Not a scratch. You did good, Fox."
Fox? That wasn't Scully. No, it was Mrs. Scully. Maggie. Mom.
"Mom?" I gasp. "Mom, it hurts." I know I sound like I'm twelve years old,
and I'm not exactly proud of it, but damn if my leg doesn't hurt like hell
and
I really, really want someone to take care of me.
"I know it does, Sweetheart. You were so brave. You saved my grandson.
You're a hero, Fox. I'm so proud of you, Fox."
She's proud of me. Jeeze, I can't remember the last time someone told me
they
were proud of me. I really can't. I never realized how much I need to hear
it, until Mrs. Scully says it.
And she cradles me in her lap while Scully is taking my pulse every two
minutes. I think I can really get used to this family stuff. I'm moaning and
groaning more now. I don't try to hold back the tears like I did as a child.
I feel Mrs. Scully wiping them from my cheeks and she's rocking me to and
fro
as though I were her little boy. I don't know why, but it helps ease the
pain
a little bit.
I feel a different pair of hands on me now. Strong. Rough. Knowing. "OWWW!"
I cry out. Indiscriminate. They don't care how much pain I'm in at the
moment. "Mommm!" I cry out. Funny, how I don't call for Scully. I call for
Mrs. Scully. God, I hope Scully doesn't get insulted.
Great, I'm in excruciating pain, and I still manage to find something to
feel
guilty about. I am one sick asshole. "OWWW! Oh God, Please! Stop!" I cry
out. I don't know what the hell they're doing, but if they don't knock it
off, when I come out of my stupor I'm gonna beat the shit out of someone!
"Mulder." Ahh, my Scully. She'll make 'em stop. "Mulder, the paramedics are
wrapping your leg in a burn bandage. I know it hurts, but they'll be
finished
in a minute, and it will really help your leg."
Well, if she can't stop 'em, at least she can explain it to me. Damn, when
do
I get the good stuff to kill the pain? C'mon, Scully, I'm dying here. Help
me out. "Hurts," I manage to croak out.
"I know, and as soon as they check you out at the er, you'll get something
for
the pain," she says.
"Okay," I hear a deep, male voice say, "on my count. One, two, three, up."
That's all I remember. I guess I got my wish and I finally found that
desired
state of unconsciousness after all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
End of Part 2/3

Part 3/3
I wake up and find not one, but four Scully women in my hospital room. Dana,
Karen, Tara, and Mom are all sitting in those horrible, blue plastic molded
waiting room chairs. I feel sorry for them, because I know they've probably
endured the discomfort for quite some time waiting for me to wake up.
I look around and see they're all still asleep, and since I haven't a clue
as
to the time or how long we've been here, I don't have the heart to wake them
up.
I take a surveillance of myself to see what damage I wreaked this time.
Okay,
I've got IV's up the wah-zoo. That's nothing new. I quickly reach down
under the cover to check for __. Damn it! They had to insert the damned
Foley, didn't they. They couldn't just let me use the urinal. God damn it.
Then I realize it's entirely possible they didn't have a choice. Shit. How
long have I been out? I have a funny feeling I might be surprised by the
answer. And then I realize I had yet to check the reason I was here in the
first place.
My leg. Oh God, please just let it be there.
I lift the cover to see if I'm still, relatively, in one piece. I don't
realize I have my eyes closed as I lift the cover.
"Oh c'mon, Mulder, there's nothing down there that unique and
awe-inspiring!"
Scully says with a chuckle.
I startle and replace the sheet before I have a good enough look at my leg,
or
what's left of it. I still don't know. I'm not sure I even want to know at
this point.
"Hey," I rasp. Whoa. Where'd my voice go? Scully reads my mind, of course,
and brings me a glass of water to sip.
"Easy, G-Man. We don't want you upchucking it out as soon as you take it
in,"
she says.
When I have my fill of the water, I say what's most important on my mind at
the moment. "Foley. Out."
I hear Scully laugh at that. I guess she figures if I'm complaining and
making unreasonable demands, I mustn't be that hurt. Right? I must not be
that seriously injured.
I guess I'm a little afraid to address that issue.
"What time?" I ask, sidestepping the important questions for now.
"Oh, it's about five o'clock," she responds.
"Night?"
"I should be so lucky. No, Mulder, it's the A.M. But you'll be happy to know
you've been in La La Land for the last seventy-two hours.''
"Oh." So, there was a reason for the catheter. I know I should ask about the
leg. I really need to know about the leg.
"The baby? Is Matthew okay?" I ask instead.
"Oh, Mulder, he's fine. You protected him totally. He was frightened by the
noise and the commotion, but he's fine. He calmed down immediately after
Tara
took him into her arms."
"That's good." I look over to where Tara is sitting and notice she, along
with the rest of the Scully clan, are awake. "Hi," I greet. "Sorry, didn't
mean to wake you up."
"Don't be silly. Nice to see you've finally decided to join the land of the
living," says Karen. I like Karen. She doesn't treat me like bone china.
She treats me as if I were___, normal.
"How are you feeling, Fox," asks Mrs. Scully.
"A little woozy, but I think I'm okay." I don't dare say I'm scared to death
that my leg is missing and wonder what the hell I'm going to do for the rest
of my life if I can't be a field agent.
"We've been worried about you. You do like your beauty sleep, young man,"
Mrs. Scully admonishes.
"Sorry, Mom. I didn't mean to worry you," I say, and I mean it. The last
thing I want to do is cause this wonderful woman concern.
"Mulder?" I hear Tara tentatively ask.
"Hey. How's Matthew?" I ask earnestly.
"Fine," she answers quickly. "He's perfectly fine__. Thanks to you."
"Tara, you don't have__," I begin, but she cuts me off immediately.
"__Don't even think it much less say that, Fox Mulder. I do have to thank
you. If you hadn't dove over there, I don't even want to think about what
could have happened. You saved my son's life, Mulder, and I need to know
you'll accept, as meager as it is, my thanks for that.
"Fox Mulder, you are a hero. You're Matthew's and my hero. Thank you. Thank
you so much," she says, but she's crying now, and I feel really badly for
her.
I don't want her to cry.
"Tara, I'm just glad I was able to do something." I hold my hands out toward
her, and though she's unsure at first, she rushes to me for a hug. I'm glad
I can offer her some comfort. I really don't want her feeling guilty over a
decision I made of my own free will.
"Well, it looks like our hero has finally decided to join the party. Well,
Dr. Scully did warn me of your tendency to react unusually to anesthesia,"
says a new voice entering the room. "Hello, Mr. Mulder. I'm Dr. Jacobs, and
I'm the guy who put your leg back together."
I realize I've just let out a sigh of relief that could be heard from coast
to
coast.
"Your leg will be fine, Mr. Mulder," he confirms, sensing my anxiety. "Of
course, you realize you're going to see some serious rehab time, but you
will
regain full mobility of the leg. I happen to do good work," Dr. Jacobs said
with a chuckle.
"Thank you," I say sincerely. So what if the man hasn't an ounce of
humility.
If he fixed my leg up, he doesn't need it. "How long?"
"Oh, with some seriously hard work, I'd say you should be hundred per cent
in
about six months," he says.
"Six months?" I croak out. "That long?" I say, not even bothering to hide my
disappointment.
"I didn't say you'd be disabled for six months, I merely indicated it would
take that long to get back to one hundred per cent motility. You'll be able
to see desk duty well before that," he explains.
"Oh, well that's something, at least," I respond.
"I'd say you'll be able to return to your office in about six weeks," he
declares.
"Six weeks?" I respond with dismay.
"Mulder," Scully interjects, "don't push your luck here.
I look at Dr. Jacobs and see him nod in agreement. I keep my mouth shout,
which only causes Scully and the doctor to chuckle out loud. They exchange
these, 'I told you so' glances and Dr. Jacobs says he'll check in on me
later.
"Dana, you'll need to stop by Fox's apartment and pack a suitcase for him,"
says Mrs. Scully.
"Huh?" I'm confused. I'll need a change of underwear and clean pair of
socks.
Oh, I guess a clean pair of shorts and tee-shirt would be in order too. But
a
suitcase?
"Fox, you'll be in no condition to be on your own when you're released from
the hospital in a couple of days. And it would make so much more sense for
you to continue your treatments in Maryland, but there's no way you'll be
able
to drive with your right leg being hurt, so, of course, you'll stay with me.
That's all right with you dear, isn't it?" Mrs. Scully asks as she looks at
me with those soft, maternal, eyes.
Now, like I'm going to say no to this woman. And what's worse is, she
_knows_
I'm not going to say no to her. And what's worse than that, is she and
Scully
probably _planned_ this whole scenario the moment I got out of the operating
room. And what's more__!
I'm loving every second of it. I definitely can get used to this family
stuff. I look at all of the Scully women present, and then look back at Mrs.
Scully and say, "It's fine by me. Thank you, Mom."
She smiles and I am content. In pain, but content. It's only now that I
realize the leg that is still reattached is now causing me to see stars. I
involuntarily groan out loud.
"It must be time for your pain medication. I'll go check with the nurse,"
says Scully. I nod gratefully to her and watch her leave.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They must have shot me up with the really good stuff, cause I wake up
feeling
as if I'd slept for days. Of course, with my sleep patterns, who knows?
The room is dark and empty, and it's dark outside as well. Good. Hopefully
Scully and Mrs. Scully have gone home to take a break. I feel a little
guilty
their lives seem to have come to a halt because of me. I really want Mrs.
Scully to spend the time with her kids and grandchildren, not with me.
Just then I hear a knock on the door. I call out, "Come in," and see a tall,
slender figure in the shadows. I realize it's Charlie.
"Hey, Charlie, come on in," I say.
"Hey Mulder, how the hell are you feeling?" he asks with genuine concern.
"Well, at the moment I'm feeling only mild discomfort, but they apparently
have me on the really good stuff when things get rough, so I haven't felt
any
really bad pain at all."
"That's good to hear. Listen, I just want to say__, I mean about what you
did
for my nephew__."
I cut him off right there. I tell him Tara's already said thanks and we
don't
need me getting a swelled head. I smile to let him know I appreciate his
good
words, but I don't really need them. I'm okay with everything.
"Has Billy been by?" he asks.
"Umm, he might have come by while I was asleep, but I haven't seen him," I
say.
"Damn asshole. You just about save his kid's life, and all because of his
own
stupidity, and he doesn't have the decency to come by and see how you're
doing? Say thank you? Jeeze, sometimes I can't believe Dana and I are
related to him.
"You know, Mulder," he continues, "the sad thing is, he's normally an okay
guy. I don't know what it is about you that turns him into this crazy person
none of us recognize," he says.
"I guess he's right." I don't mean to say it aloud, but I do.
"Right about what?"
"Bad things happen when I'm around."
"Mulder, you really don't believe that crap, do you?" he asks incredulously.

"I don't know what to believe anymore, Charlie. All I know is, I love your
sister, but I'm afraid to become more a part of her life. Bad things do
happen to people I care about. People I love."
"Don't you think you owe my sister the opportunity to be a part of that
decision? Surely you're not going to let something Bill says deter you from
going forward with a relationship with Dana. God, Mulder! I don't know which
one she'd draw the gun on first, Billy or you!"
I look at him and note the twinkle in his eye, but I also realize what he
says
has a great deal of merit to it. "Okay, I say. I won't decide anything
without first discussing it with Scully first. Happy?" I ask with a bit of a
twinkle in my eye too. Of course, that's probably just the last remnants of
the pain killer showing in my eyes too. Now where is that nurse when I need
her.
Charlie notices I'm grimacing and reaches over for the buzzer. He presses it
and says, "They'll be here soon with something to help."
I whisper my thanks, close my eyes, and concentrate on getting rid of the
pain. When the door finally opens I breathe a sigh of relief, but then I
hear
a voice say, "Oh, I didn't know you were going to be here."
I open my eyes to see Billy Scully looming over me. I don't really think I
want to deal with this now. My leg is killing me, and I suddenly feel like
my
head is going to explode too. I guess this is what you might call tension
headache, # 38.
I don't speak. I figure no matter what I say, Billy would somehow manage to
twist it around into something negative, something bad. And I just don't
have
the strength to deal with his shit at the moment.
I mean, I don't mind saving his baby, but I'll be damned if I'm gonna let
him
walk all over me because I did it. So I lay quietly and wait for him to make
the first move.
"I just came by to see how you're doing," he says tensely. His teeth are
practically locked together as he speaks. God, this is really painful for
him.
Good.
"I hurt. I get pain killers. I sleep. I wake up. I hurt. I get pain
killers. I sleep. I wake up. I hurt. I could go on, if you'd like, but
there's a definite pattern here."
He winces at my words, and I'm not quite sure where the malice in my voice
is
coming from, but damn him. He has no right to make me feel like shit for
loving his sister or his mother, or his entire family for that matter. He
has
no right to make me feel I don't deserve their love.
I remain quiet now. I figure if he has anything to say, he'll say it. I know
I don't have anything to say to him. He's already made it abundantly clear
to
me he doesn't want my input on anything.
"Tara here?" he asks. Now, I'm really not sure what he means by this, and at
this point I really don't care. The nurse still hasn't answered Charlie's
initial call, so I press the button again. When I ignore his question, he
addresses it to Charlie. "Tara here?"
"She was here earlier, but left to spend time with Mom and Matthew. Karen,
the kids, and Dana are over there too. Dana's coming back to relieve me in
about an hour," he explains.
"Oh."
That's it. That's all he says. And now he behaves as though he's totally
mute. I'm not sure what has me so wound up at this point. The nerve of this
guy to come in and do me the honor of gracing me with his presence, or the
pain I'm feeling.
"Oh God," I groan. Well, that was an easy enough conundrum to figure out.
Where the hell is the nurse? Finally, I can't bear it anymore and I plea,
"Charlie? Please. Would you go find someone. It's really starting to get to
me."
Charlie agrees quickly and leaves the room to just me and Mr. Congeniality.
Funny thing is, I get the feeling he wants to talk, but doesn't know how to
begin. Maybe, at any other given moment, I'd consider helping him out, but
I'm about ready to chew my leg off, and I just don't have any excess
sympathy
for him.
Finally, he saves me the trouble.
"Look, I'm sorry you got hurt. I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt," he
says
to me.
"Billy, do me a favor?" He looks at me curiously. "Next time, when Charlie
says to forego something as dangerous and stupid as fireworks, would ya
please
listen to him? I mean, I know he's the baby brother, but he's got a lot of
common sense. Okay?"
I've just given this little speech through clenched teeth. At this point I'm
ready to jump out the window, and Billy finally notices I'm in a little
discomfort here.
"Umm, anything I can do for you?" he asks quietly.
"Please, find someone to help me," I cry out. "Oh God, Billy, it hurts so
much!"
Well, for some reason, this last little plea on my part causes BillyBoy to
spring into action. He marches to the door, swings it open and in his
gruffest, toughest, seaman's voice, commands, "This patient needs help now.
Somebody, get in here on the double!"
Well, I'll be damned, but the man gets results. Within minutes, there are
two
nurses, one intern, and one resident in my room, along with Charlie and
Billy.
"We buzzed you about fifteen minutes ago, folks. Where've you been?" asks
Charlie politely.
"We were attending to another patient," replies one of the nurses.
"All of you?" questions Billy tersely. "This man is in extreme pain. I
suggest you do something about it. Now. And see to it he's not left in pain
for that long of a period again. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, Sir," responds the other nurse. "We'll do our best."
Charlie leans over to whisper in my ear and says, "See? I told you the man
has his good points."
I nod weakly. All I want at this point is for the pain in my leg to go away.
The doctor prepares a hypodermic and shoots its contents into the IV. I hear
him murmur something about how I should feel better in just a few minutes,
but
I'm asleep before he can even finish the sentence.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next time I wake up, the room is full to capacity again. Scully, Karen,
Tara, Charlie, Billy, Mrs. Scully and the three Scully kids are here. Wasn't
there a rule about the number of visitors in a room? How the hell did they
sneak all of these people in here?
"Well, it's 'bout time you woke up, Mulder! We were just about to pour a
bucket of water on you," says Karen.
"What's going on?" I ask.
"We've come to say good-bye. We've already extended our little vacations a
few days. The boss ain't gonna tolerate anymore shore leave for this old
sailor," explains Charlie.
"Yes, and the kids wanted to say good-bye to their Uncle Mulder," adds
Karen.
I look at Briana and Daniel, and wonder if they're okay with all of this.
I'm
still hooked up to a million and one tubes. I try to smile, and pray it's
not
coming out like a grimace, and extend my arms to them both.
They both clamor aboard the side of my good leg, and are surprisingly gentle
and careful not to jostle the affected one. I'm on the receiving end of a
dozen or so hugs and kisses, and I think I'm enjoying this little bit of
domestic bliss a little too much.
It makes me think about wanting kids of my own. Uh oh. Don't go there,
Mulder. Scully and I are still at the hand holding, necking on the couch
stage. But maybe__.
"Okay you guys, off. Someone else wants to say goodbye," says Billy, a
little
more gruffly then he perhaps intended, but the kids don't seem to notice. As
the older children scramble off the bed, I see Billy take Matthew from
Tara's
arms. He carries the baby over to me and says with just the slightest hint
of
a tremor in his voice, "And someone wants to say thank you to you too."
Billy lays the baby gently on my chest, and, of course, I wait for the kid
to
burst into tears. I stare at his beautiful Scully blue eyes and he stares
back at me. All of sudden, scrunches up his face. I hold my breath and wait
for the inevitable.
He burps.
Loudly.
And then he gurgles and laughs.
And I say the only thing that comes to mind. "You're very welcomed,
Matthew."
I look around as the rest of the family cracks up laughing. My eyes rest on
each of them; on Scully and I think how much I love her and how I'm going to
enjoy loving her more and more each day.
And then I look at Mrs. Scully, and think how grateful I am this woman is so
willing to give of herself to me. And then I look at the kids and Charlie,
Karen and Tara, and I think of how lucky I am that I've been welcomed into
this close-knit clan.
Matthew has now crawled up to my face and has made himself right at home.
He's poking and prodding, and for the first time, doesn't cry while in my
arms.
I look at his father and realize this is the closest thing to a thank you or
an apology I will receive from him.
And that's okay. I accept that. Why?
Cause that's what family does for family.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
End of 3/3
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