Title: By Her Side: A Christmas Story Author: Vickie Moseley Summary: Bill Scully gets more than he bargained for as he hosts Christmas for his now extended family. Rating: PG-13 (R for one naughty word) Category: H, MSM (married Mulder and Scully), (please note this story totally disregards anything that happened in Season 9. It is Doggett/Reyes/Season 9-free) Spoiler: Existence, Dead/Alive, By Her Side stories Disclaimer: I'm still not making money from this and I didn't even watch season 9 (except for The Truth). Ten-thirteen still owns the character names and all action figures. Archive: yes Comments: This is the next installment in the By Her Side Series, where I make Bill Scully, Jr. into a somewhat loveable, three-dimensional asshole as opposed to the one dimension asshole he is portrayed on the show. It does mention my other 'wedding story', "Mother of the Bride" which, along with the rest of the series, can be found on my website. Dedication: to all the very sweet people who have asked for this series to continue. I think I've got my inspiration back now. Thanks to Susan, dtg, Sally, Theresa, Dawn and Suzanne for keeping me sane. By Her Side: A Christmas Story By Vickie Moseley San Diego, CA December 24, 2001 1:45 pm I should have stayed out on the ship. I see that now. I had the chance to go out on the very next day, but noooo, I'm Mr. Family Man. I could have cruised the South Pacific, stopping at Honolulu, Tahiti, Melbourne. But no, I had to tell my Captain that I had a wife and a son waiting. I had to tell him, happily, might I add, how my family likes to get together at the holidays and this year it was our turn to play host. I had to tell him that I was actually looking forward to some time stateside. I know why Dad was out on the sea so much. He was a very smart man and he'd never even heard of Fox Mulder. So, we pulled into port on November 30. I missed Thanksgiving, but my loving wife Tara more than made up for it with a blow out dinner that was way more than just the three of us could ever consume. Of course, I needed the protein after the workout she had put me through. She's gotten so good at these homecomings. I thought, with the addition of Matty to our little domicile, that homecomings would be more, shall I say 'tame' than they were when it was just Tara welcoming me home. But the woman is a genius. She plans sleepovers for Matty for the first night I'm home. The kid's only 4, it's not like he doesn't get just as excited to see me 18 hours after I really arrive. In the meantime, well, I figured out that this stint on shore duty would include shopping for a new mattress on one of my days off. We busted a few springs on the old one. But back to the story. Like I said, Tara had Thanksgiving all ready for me on December 1. A week late, but none the poorer, believe me. She got an 18 pound bird, stuffed it with oysters, cranberries, bread I'm sure she made herself. And that wasn't the half of it. Sweet potato casserole that melted in my mouth, mashed potatoes swimming in the richest giblet gravy ever to grace a Scully table (God forbid Mom ever hears me say this, but Tara's gravy runs rings around hers, I swear!), green beans, corn, every olive I could hope to encounter. For dessert, she brought out a 10 inch pumpkin pie with real whipped cream. For three people! It was almost criminal. Actually, it was criminal. It was deliberate, premeditated and I'm pretty sure illegal in least 28 states. The woman drugged me. Yes, I say it here, she drugged me. That stupid drug in turkey that renders you sleepy and content and willing to agree to anything. She used it to coerce me into agreeing to something that I never would have agreed to in a million years! I remember the conversation like it was yesterday, even though it was just four weeks ago. I was sitting in my reclining chair, watching the Chargers game and thinking life did not get any better. Matty was playing with some stuffed animal that looked like a fuzzy blue-green monster with purple spots and being quiet, an almost unheard of occurrence since I'd come home. And Tara was doing something in the kitchen, though I couldn't tell you what because Matty and I had cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher. The phone rang. I figured if it was important, or for me, she'd call me into the kitchen to take it. But she left me to the game, which suited me just fine. A few minutes later, she came in and crawled in next to me on the reclining chair. I glanced over at Matty, but relaxed because he was all caught up talking to some invisible guy named "Mike" about someone named "Boo" and wasn't paying attention to us at all. Besides, we're a family. We snuggle all the time. It's not like I was going to strip Tara right there and we'd do it in front of the kid. Or at least that's what I thought until I felt Tara's nimble little tongue lapping at my ear. That's something else for the court documents. She drugged me AND seduced me. And right during a crucial football game! I was just about to either stop her or send the kid upstairs, when she settled down again and started watching the game. Oh, I thought. We're playing that game. OK, I was fine with that. Tara would get me all, well, you know, and then when we finally got Matty to sleep, we'd use that lock on our bedroom door Tara made me install years ago and I would get breakfast in bed in the morning. Yes siree Bob, life didn't get better! Then she started to talk. She knows that I only half listen when I'm watching a game. I pick up on key words, like 'buy', 'sell', or 'doctor', but the rest of the dictionary just sort of floats through my ears. I remember vaguely nodding once or twice and that's the extent of it. Next morning, as she placed the tray with eggs over easy and those really great little sausage links on my lap, she hit me with the bombshell. "So, I called Mom and Dana and it's all arranged. We can use St. Mary's, I'll call them this morning and I think I'll call that bakery in Horton Plaza for the cake. Of course, we can't do it on Christmas morning, that would be just too much, but I think we could get the little chapel around 5 o'clock on Christmas Eve. If no one else has it by now, that is. But then, this is San Diego, there has to be a church available, right?" I had my mouth full by this time, and was searching for a way to clear it. The coffee cup was there, and I grabbed it and gulped. Big mistake. Tara likes her coffee just a few degrees below nuclear meltdown. I burned all the skin off the inside of my mouth. "Church? Cake? What the hell are you babbling about, woman??" That's what I meant to say. It didn't come out quite that clear. It sounded more like 'Thurth, thake, wha' th' heww are you babblin' 'bout, woman?' but she seemed to understand. "Fox and Dana's wedding, silly! Remember, I asked you about it last night. You said you thought it was a great idea!" I reran my memory of the entire night. At one point I remember Tara asking me if I wanted a beer. She'd said something else, something before that, but I hadn't really answered. At the time, I thought the beer was a great idea. Ohmigod! "Tara, I never said anything about a wedding! Besides, they got married. Justice of the peace or whatever." "A judge. At the courthouse. Bill, what kind of wedding is that? I mean, just your mom and their boss there, that's not a wedding. It's a . . . a . . . well I don't know what it is, but it's not a wedding!" "Tara, they have a kid, for cripes sakes! It's not like she can go down the aisle in a big white dress. They were probably too embarrassed to have a church wedding." Lucky thing I was holding my coffee cup, or it would have been in my lap if the look Tara gave me was any warning. "Oh, and I suppose all those times in the back of your car were just 'practice sessions', right? All the sex we had before we were married. That was just, what, learning the ground rules, William Dennis Scully?" "Matty was born a full 8 years after our wedding day, Tara Elizabeth, and you know it!" I almost never use her full name, but she pissed me off. Besides, she used my full name first. Apparently I pissed her off as well. After a rather silent day, spent mostly avoiding her glaring looks, I sort of caved about dinnertime. Besides, she'd made Matty mac and cheese for lunch and she knows I hate that stuff, so I figured it was more punishment for dinner if I didn't give in soon. Which is why I'm standing in the middle of some uptown florist shop right now, on December 24, tossing about 350 bucks worth of soon to be dead flowers on my VISA account and once again cursing Fox Mulder and the horse he rode in on and I'm not referring to my sister! At the tinkling bell behind me, I cringe. I remember he said he wanted to look down the street at something. Funny, he shows up right after I sign the charge slip. Amazing how that works, isn't it? "Bill, what the hell are we going to do with all these flowers?" Well, if I weren't so pissed at the bastard, I would give him points for that question. I'm wondering the same thing myself. "Tara ordered them. There's a bouquet for the altar, one for Mary's altar, one for the Nativity scene, flowers for Dana, for Tara and for Mom, then boutonnieres for you, me, Matty and one for little Bill . . ." "Will," Mulder corrects me. "Oh, yeah, for little Will, and then I think that one is supposed to be on the table at home." "Christ, this must have cost a fortune!" The man is astute. But then, he was an FBI agent. A now 'unemployed' FBI agent. Dana says he's got a book deal on the line and he's going to be teaching a class at Georgetown next semester, but for now, he stays home and watches little Bill, I mean Will, while she goes to work. Oh, yeah, I've got one of those brothers-in-law. I notice he doesn't reach for his wallet, but instead grabs one of the three large boxes of flowers and hefts it toward the door. Yeah, one of those brothers-in-law. I guess, in some ways, I should be grateful. I mean, I have known for years that this asshole is the man with the keys to my little sister's heart. And he's been falling all over himself in love with her for at least as long, longer if he's to be believed. I know Mom never believed they would kiss, much less go so far as to have a baby together. And get married? That was completely out of the picture. So I should be tickled pink that they finally did the right thing, gave the kid a name and all that. They did it already. So why am I paying for them to go ahead and do it again? "Bill, I have to say, I mean, this whole wedding and everything." We are halfway to the car, and from the list I have, we have four more stops to make. I'm feeling a little miffed, but hey, if the guy wants to finally cough up some cash, I can be big. "I really wish you hadn't gone to all this trouble." "Don't think anything of it, Mulder," I assure him. "No, Bill, I mean I really wish you hadn't gone to all this trouble." We're standing here in the middle of the frigging sidewalk on Christmas Eve and the asshole has me ready to punch his lights out. "Are you saying you don't want to marry my sister?" I ask, trying real hard to keep my voice down as the last minute shoppers hurry past us. "Bill, I already married your sister. I married her six months ago. I just sort of hoped to avoid all the, you know, other stuff." Now I get it. He wanted to avoid the whole 'church' thing. Oh, boy. That takes the cake, that really takes the cake. Well, Mister, let me tell you one thing . . . "Well, Mulder, let me tell you one thing, you are going to go through with this and you're gonna like it, get that? Because if you ever-" He grabs my arm and propels me down the street. Suddenly, we're both inside this little corner bar, the kind the shiny new Marine Corps boots hit the minute they graduate before they start weapons school. Dark, nice wood, but the smell of beer and urine is unmistakable. My kind of bar. He pushes me to the counter and plops down on a bar stool, glaring at me until I follow. "Two Rolling Rocks and two shots of Jack Daniels," he tells the bartender. Then he turns to me. "What are you having?" I suppress the nervous giggle that is threatening to come out of my mouth. Oh great. Now he's going to get drunk before the wedding. Flashes of the last time Mulder and I tied one on come back to me. I remember a hospital came into play at some point . . . "I'm just kidding, Bill. Geez, get a grip. You like JD, right?" "Oh, yeah, sure," I reply. The bartender sets the two shot glasses and two beers in front of us. Mulder picks up his shot glass, stares at the reflection of himself in the mirror behind the bar and holds the glass aloft. "To women, especially the ones dumb enough to marry us," he proclaims and downs the shot in one gulp. Well, I see no argument in that toast, so I second it. "To dumb women." Then it occurs to me he just called my sister and my wife stupid. I'm seeing red again. "Bill, relax, it was a joke. I know Dana and Tara aren't dumb. They're saints, they're the mothers of our children, they'll probably end up in some history book for their bravery and steadfastness, at least your sister sure will. But look at us. We're hardly the catches of the season." "OK, I'll give you that one," I tell him grudgingly. It's my turn. I tap the countertop and the bartender is there, Jack in hand. He pours two more shots and goes back to watching his soap opera on the television. I raise the glass, nod to Mulder's reflection in the mirror and give my toast. "To fatherhood." He nods a bit and downs his drink again, in one gulp. I'm starting to feel that really nice burn in the pit of my stomach, but hope we manage to get to the beers now. "I love being a father," he says, turning the glass over upside down on the bar. "I wake up every morning and just go into his room and watch him sleep. He doesn't sleep much past the minute I get in there, but for just a few seconds . . ." My eyes are burning, must be the left over smoke in the bar. "Yeah," I say. "I do that with Matty sometimes. When I'm not out in the middle of the ocean someplace." That sounded like regret in my voice. I didn't mean it to, but Mulder picks up on it, too. "It's a hard job you've chosen. I don't know how you do it," he says and when I look at him, I can tell he's not bullshitting me. He means what he says. "You're the one who had the hard job," I huff back. "You got killed." Opps, I didn't mean to bring that up. But he takes it in stride, picks up his beer and takes a sip. "Yeah. It's been a bitch. I don't remember my funeral, but the headstone was real classy. Gave a nice set of new nightmares to Scully." Now he's the one with regret in his voice. "That little guy she carried off the plane sure made up for a lot of that," I tell him, nudging him in the ribs with my elbow. "But I still have a lot of making up to do. That's why I agreed to this. I have a lot to make up for. I just wish." He swallows what he was going to say around another sip of beer. "It's the church thing, isn't it?" I ask him. He shakes his head slowly, staring at some spot of air between the bar and the shelf of bottles behind it. "No, not really. I mean, Will's baptism didn't bother me at all." I missed the baptism. I was somewhere off the coast of Sitka if I remember correctly. "I just wish we could have done it right the first time," he goes on, regardless of if I'm listening or not. "I wanted to marry her a long time ago. That stupid ass job and that fucking Bureau . . . no, I can't even really blame that. I was a coward. Plain and simple." "Dana wasn't ready to marry you yet, either. Have you thought about that?" That statement sort of catches him off guard. He stares at me, and I know I better back up what I'm saying. "Tara and Dana talk all the time. And right before you were, uh, you disappeared, Tara said Dana was happier than she'd ever been. Tara brought up the idea of you two finally settling down together, I mean, making it legal and all and you know what Dana told her?" He shakes his head at me, mesmerized by my story. "She said 'we're so far past that point, Tara. We don't need to make it legal.' That's what she said. So if you'd come to her and proposed, to her, it would have been a mistake, a step back. She wasn't ready to see the advantages of being married." "We've always made decisions together," he assures me. "But not like now. Not where to live and whether I go with one publisher or another one. It's different." "See, the way I see it, you two had, oh, what did they call it, a common law marriage. You had that for a long time. But you have to consider little Will now. That's what made the difference." "I know, Bill, I know. But I really hoped I wouldn't have my son attending my wedding," he says with a sigh, finishing off the beer. "Look at it this way. At least you're marrying his mother," I shoot back with a grin. "At least she'll have me. Twice." "If I were to ask Tara to marry me again, on certain days at certain times. . ." He interrupts me. "She'd do it again, Bill, and you know it." I nod in acceptance. "Yeah. I do." We're quiet for a minute, each inspecting our beers and the counter of the bar. It's been a question that's been eating me for so long that I almost don't realize it slips out of my mouth. "So how the hell did I get a nephew?" Beer spurts from his lips, but not enough to call it a loss and he chokes down what's left in his mouth. "I should have known not to get you around beer, Scully," he growls. He wipes his mouth on a nearby cocktail napkin and shakes his head as he looks at me. Right now, I'm pretty sure he'd bust me in the chops if he didn't have to face my wife and my mother when he left this place. "Do you want to know the specific position, or just the general working principles?" he asks, in that smart ass voice of his. I get to growl this time. "She was barren," I remind him. "She couldn't have kids. That was the whole point of that little girl." "Emily," he reminds me with an undeserved glare. "Yeah, Emily." I still think it's crazy, but Tara takes flowers out to the grave every holiday. Dana asked her to do that, I know, but why should my wife get stuck putting flowers on some kid's grave that wasn't even really part of our family? And Tara yells at me that I don't get it every time I try to bring that up so I've learned to just keep my mouth shut. "Face it, she couldn't have kids and now you have one. How?" He's chewing his lip, and I'm pretty sure he's not going to tell me. Then he looks at me for a minute, and I can actually see him change his mind right there in his eyes. "She wanted a child." "You guys aren't married, well, you weren't at the time," I point out, rather reasonably, I think. "But we couldn't. Not and stay partners. So she wanted a child. And a doctor told her there was a chance with IVF. So we tried." "And that's how you got Will?" "No," he says with this shit-eating grin. "No?" I ask. What the hell is he talking about? "It didn't work. She didn't get pregnant. So we gave up. She never mentioned it again. We went back to the way things were . . ." "Having sex every other minute," I nod. It sure as hell seemed that way the last time I saw them. "Hardly," he tells me with icicles hanging off every letter. "So, anyway, we went back to the way things were. No more little plastic cups for me. No more doctors for her. And then . . ." He just stops. He doesn't say anything. "You took off," I supply. It was what I always suspected. He laughs. A full belly laugh. He waves over the bartender and taps at his empty beer bottle. Another full one appears on the counter. He downs about half of it. "Yeah, Bill. I took off. I just walked out to Oregon and stuck my thumb out and the nearest spaceship just gave me a lift. That's exactly what happened." I nod for a second. The spaceship story again. Dana had told Tara something like that but of course, she was pregnant at the time so I ignored it. Hormones do terrible things to pregnant women. "You were dead when you came back," I point out. He was, too. I didn't get to the funeral, but Mom did and she even helped Dana pick out the suit the bastard wore in the casket. Dead and buried and that was the end of it. I never knew how to feel after I got the news. In one respect, I was sort of happy that chapter of Dana's life was over. He'd caused her so much pain and anguish, running off when she got pregnant like he did. If he turned up dead, who was I to care? But Tara told me, in no uncertain words, that he didn't know she was pregnant when he left. So why did he leave? The man I saw a few years back would never have left my sister. "I didn't leave her on purpose." I hate it when he reads my mind like that, but he just keeps going. "I didn't want to leave. Bill, I know you have no reason to believe that, but if you've ever thought for one minute that I love your sister, you have to understand that I did not leave her of my own free will. I was taken away from her. Believe whatever you want. Believe it was aliens or believe it was terrorists, I don't give a damn. Just know for a fact that I would have done anything to come back to her that night and she was my only thought all the time I was away from her." "OK, maybe I can buy that. But Mulder, you were dead," I remind him. Just in case it slipped his memory for a minute. God, I can't imagine what it would have been like to be in that casket all those months . . . "I wasn't really dead. I was . . . very sick. What they did to me left me near death, yes. But I wasn't dead. I didn't 'rise from the dead', Bill. Skinner, our boss, saw something that made him put two and two together. He's the one who dug me up, got me to the hospital. But it was Scully, your sister, who saved me. She cured me. She brought me all the way back to life. Just like she always does." We hear the bell on the door as it opens and the bright light of the sun floods the room for an instant. When our eyes adjust, we see our wives standing just inside the door. "I told you to look for the nearest bar, Tara," my dainty sister says as she saddles up to the counter and plops down next to her husband. She picks up the shot glass, examines it like it was some guy's spleen, and sets it down on the counter again. The bartender is standing at attention, waiting to call the cops. "Give me what they're having." "Me too," says Tara, hopping up to sit on the stool next to me. "I saw the flowers, at least you didn't forget what we sent you out for," she directs at me with a little glare. "Hey, this wasn't my idea," I object. "It was mine, Tara. I decided I needed a bachelor party. I didn't get one last time." "As I remember," my sister pipes in. "The Gunmen took you out to Casey's and you had a round." Mulder looks over at me and puts his hand on my shoulder. "Yeah, but my best man wasn't there," he grins broadly and sips at the shot the bartender just poured him. Best man? I mean, yeah, I'm standing up for them, but Best Man? Who'd have thought! Guess the first two drinks mellowed him out a bit. Mellowed us both out a bit, the thought isn't as disgusting as it once would have been. "Are Will and Matty with Mom?" I ask, trying to hide my embarrassment at our newfound 'closeness'. "No, we duck taped them in the closet," Dana replies dry as sand. "Of course Mom's with them. When you two didn't come back when you were supposed to, Tara and I decided we better go look for you." "Sorry," we both say as one. Dana starts to pull out her wallet to pay the tab, but Mulder stops her by tossing a Gold Amex on the counter. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. Hey, wait. I thought they were broke! "You need to pay Bill for the flowers. I forgot to bring the checkbook, and he'd already paid when I caught up with him," he tells her as he helps her down from the stool. "I already handled that. I paid Tara for everything at lunch," she informs him. She turns to give him a look. "Why weren't you at the florist with him?" I recognize that tone in her voice. Somebody's got some 'splainin' to do. "You'll see, later," he tells her. She gives him a look and then . . . lets it drop. I have to remember how he did that. But then, it is Christmas Eve. Dana was always a horrible snoop at Christmas, but maybe being married with a kid has mellowed her, too. Tara is checking her watch. "Judging from the backseat of the car, you haven't made it to the bakery, the rental store to pick up the punch bowl or the dry cleaners. And we have exactly three hours until we have to be at the Church. The only way we'll get this done is to split up the errands. Fox and Dana, you do the punch bowl, I showed you where the rental place was right by the house, right?" Dana nods, I sit there in awe. "Good. OK, Bill and I will get the cake and run past the cleaners. We'll all meet at the house at 15:30. Any questions?" "I thought you were the one in the Navy," Mulder mutters in my direction. "So did I," I return, but before I get the words out, his wife has him by the arm and my wife has me by the arm and we are out the door and on the road. The Church 16:55 hours St. Mary's Catholic Church I have to admit, Tara knocked herself out. The little chapel is full of all those flowers that were in the back of our van. Candles are all over the place, because, well, it is Christmas Eve. This chapel won't get much use tonight, Midnight Mass is in the main sanctuary, but it looks none the less festive for the season. The little Nativity has Matty wide-eyed and actually quiet, for once. Even little Will seems to think it's pretty cool, bouncing on Mom's lap. She looks good with grandchildren. I wish we could give her more. But I guess Matty and Will will have to do until Charlie starts holding up his end of the bargain. Tara and Dana are in the women's restroom, doing God knows what to Dana's hair. Tara's been a frustrated hairdresser for as long as I've known her. She'd be a good one, too, if she ever decided to do it. She just hates the smell of those stupid chemicals. Come to think of it, I hate it, when she gets her hair permed or whatever and I'm forced to sleep in the same bed as 'Bride of Frankenstein'. Oh, God, don't ever let her hear me say that. Well, tonight, it's Mulder sleeping with Bride of Frankenstein. But for the moment, he looks . . . This is so funny! Here he is, he's been married to her for six months now, and he's the picture of a nervous groom. His hair is sticking up from the five hundred times he's run his fingers through it. The jacket to his tux is bunched up on his shoulders, again an effect of moving his arms up too high. And what has he done with that cummerbund? So help me God, if he lost that damned thing and we have to pay for it. Wait, what am I saying? He can pay for the whole goddamned monkey suit, from what I gathered this afternoon. OK, let him lose the cummerbund. Hell, it's not my money. But there is no way I'm going out at 5:00 on Christmas Eve to find him another one! "Mulder, man, what did you do with the rest of the tux?" I ask, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice. "Huh?" So much for an Oxford education, apparently. "The tux, man. The cummerbund to the tux. Where is it?" He looks down at his waist, as if it will magically sport the missing piece of fabric. Then he looks up at me, stricken. "I . . . I don't know." I nod, trying to keep what little patience I still have in check. "OK, did you have it with you in the restroom?" I ask. When did I start sounding less like me and more like Dad on Easter Sunday when I couldn't find my left shoe? "I think I did. I don't know. Are you sure it came with one?" he asks. This man was a top profiler? This man watched my sister's back for 9 years? Shesh! "Let's look, shall we?" I offer and guide him toward the men's room. Luckily, we're alone, so we don't look quite like the dorks we are as we check the stalls and under the sinks. Finally, he spots the hanger on the back of the door. The cummerbund is still hanging on the hanger. At least it's not on the floor of one of the stalls. "I just . . . I don't know what's wrong with me," Mulder tells me as I watch him try to get the cummerbund around his waist. He can't seem to get the hang of the fastener. I give up and go around to help him. "It's nerves, Mulder. Every groom has 'em." "But the second time around, and to the same woman?" he asks. The cummerbund is in place, I straighten the jacket and hand him a comb, pointing toward the mirror on the wall. "Sure. What is a wedding, anyway? A big show. Who doesn't get nervous the night of a big show?" "It's not just a show," he reminds me as he tries to tame the wild thing on his head. Man, I wish my genes had that many follicles. "Mulder, you don't love her any less right now than you will after you say 'I do', again," I remind him right back. "I couldn't possibly love her any more than I do," he agrees. Finally, he decides to give up on the hair. He looks at himself in the mirror. I shoot him a smile and a nod. Just like Dad did to me at my wedding. "Ready to get this show on the road?" I ask him. He blinks and for a moment, he turns a little green. Oh shit, what did I say? But he recovers quickly and gives me a weak smile. "Yeah, let's do it." I nod and head out the door, fighting the urge to look over my shoulder and make sure he's following me. The little chapel looks great. The sun has set outside, and even though it's a balmy 67 degrees, I can almost believe it could snow tonight. Christmas snow. I know it's pretty silly of me, considering we really didn't have much Christmas snow when I was growing up, definitely not when Dad was at Miramar, or when we were in Pensacola. But the two years at Great Lakes we had snow each year and I think those are the Christmases I always remember from my childhood. Matty sees me and yells out 'Hi, Daddy!' before Mom gets a chance to shush him. On most Sundays, this chapel gets double duty as a cry room and he's used to talking back here. He tries to explain that to Mom, but she shushes him right back and I have to hide my laugh when Matty gets the same look we used to get every time we acted up in Church. Will, on the other hand, is mesmerized by the candlelight and looks about ready to drift off. I know Dana fed him before we left for the church, so he's probably not going to last long. I look at Father Dannon, the young priest here at St. Mary's. He's a good guy, about Charlie's age. We've talked a time or two after Mass when I'm on leave. I like him and I'm glad he's the one doing this. Old Father Sullivan would have said something about 'carts before horses' when he got wind of the circumstances. Dana doesn't need to hear that, not after what they've been through. And speak of the devil, or in this case, my sister, here she comes. Tara said they found the perfect dress, white, sleeveless, a v neckline that I would have choked at if it had been my bride coming down the aisle. I glance over at Mulder and see the appreciation in his eyes, too. It's funny, I've known for so long that they've been in love, but it never occurred to me how much in love they really are. I shoot a smile to Tara, who's just made it to the front of the church right before Dana. She smiles back. I guess we're still that much in love, too. Father Dannon smiles at everyone and the ceremony gets started. Amazingly, Matty doesn't say a peep after the initial warnings from Mom. I wish she'd teach that trick to Tara. And as I expected, when I have a chance to look behind us, Will is sound asleep in his carrier, none the wiser that he's witnessing a very important occasion. So basically, Mulder's getting his wish, too. When Father Dannon asks them to exchange rings, I remember that Dana had already given me her wedding band to give to Mulder. I start to pull it out of my pocket, but Mulder shakes his head and pulls something out of his inside jacket pocket instead. I only see it for a second as he slides it on his finger, but the whole ring is encircled with diamonds and sparkles enough to light up a battle cruiser. Dana was looking at their hands and when this new ring appears she jerks her head up to meet Mulder's eyes. For a second I almost feel sorry for the guy. If looks could kill, I'd back up to be out of the blast zone. But then he smiles at her and tilts his head just a bit and she closes her eyes for a blink and replaces her fiery glare with the most beautiful smile I've ever seen on her face. She nods to poor Father Dannon, who isn't quite sure what's going on, but doesn't want to add to any possible bloodshed. In a shaky voice, the young Father finishes the ceremony. They kiss, a most chaste kiss that promises to be more passionate when they get to the hotel later. That was Tara's idea, too. She pointed out this would be the only Christmas when Will would be too little to notice his parent's absence, so they should take advantage of that and spend one honeymoon night together. Mom told me earlier they didn't get that after the first wedding. We all stand around, kissing the bride, shaking hands with the groom, but it doesn't really take much time because it's just us and Charlie finally shows up, late as usual. "I missed it, you'll have to do it again!" he declares as he waltzes in, sweeping Dana in to a hug and then Mulder, too. "Not on your life!" Mulder tells him. "Twice is enough." "Not even on our 50th Anniversary, G-man?" Dana asks coyly. He grins down at her and pulls her into his arms. "Ask me in 50 years." The kiss he bends down to give her is anything but chaste and Mom clears her throat to break them up before things get out of hand. "Let's get back to the house. We have dinner, yet. And don't you even think of sneaking out on that, you two," she warns the newlyweds. We gather up the boys, Mulder hefting the carrier in one hand and puts his other arm around Dana's shoulder. "About these weddings, partner. I liked the original, but the remix is good, too." I have to swallow my laugh when she socks him right in the gut. Tara, Mom and Dana had knocked themselves out while Mulder and I were playing at the florist and bar. The house, which I hadn't really had a chance to notice before, looks like a Christmas wonderland. No, it looks like our house, when I was growing up. It looks beautiful and I make sure to tell my wife just how beautiful when we have a minute. The buffet of food is excellent, too and a few of our neighbors are over to share in it. Tara smiles at it all, she loves hosting parties. Such a Naval wife. So much like Mom. I notice the punch bowl is empty after we've all had our fill of the ham, turkey and roast beef sandwiches and salads. I go into the kitchen to mix up some more, maybe with a little more 'spice' this time. I hear a high-pitched squeal that I know comes from Tara in the living room. I almost drop the punch bowl to run in and see what's the matter. As I get in the room, there is my wife, clinging to my brother-in-law for dear life, tears streaming down her face. And right in front of me, she plants a hell of a kiss right on his mouth. "I love you, you big lug!! They are perfect, absolutely perfect! Oh, god, if we hadn't gone to all this trouble, I'd marry you myself!" And then she notices that I'm in the room. There is complete silence for a few seconds. I must be seventeen shades of red because my face feels like it's on fire. Tara pushes herself away from Mulder and runs over to me, throwing her arms around my neck. "Nah, on second thought, I'm sticking with my current model," she says and proceeds to stick her tongue very far down my throat. Whatever I was thinking is lost as I return the kiss and try to remember there are people in the room, cursing every one of them that I can't just tell my wife to ditch the party and let's get a room somewhere. But I gain some brain cells as she slides down my side and holds a small box out for me to see. Diamond earrings. Something I could never afford on military pay. "They're from Mulder and Dana," she says with the biggest smile I could ever imagine another guy putting on her face. Then she pulls me down and whispers in my ear "and the money we put out on this thing, it's all been covered. Plus, next leave, we have plane tickets home and an offer to babysit Matty while you and I spend a few days at Mulder's summer house in Rhode Island!" Her eyes are twinkling so bright, she looks like a miniature Christmas tree. I look over at Mulder and he just shrugs. "It's there, if you want it." I keep a smile plastered on my face and nod. The son of a bitch. He's loaded after all. The ring on Dana's finger almost blinds me when it catches the lights of the tree and now the earrings in my wife's ears are causing the jets at the base to confuse our living room for the landing strip. I look over at Mom, hoping for some moral support. That's when I catch the necklace she's wearing. Not diamonds this time, thank god. The room can't stand any more brilliance. No, my mother is sporting a perfectly matched set of pearls. They are beautiful. And I know where they came from. I search for any scrap of calm I can find in the pit of my stomach. So this is what I'm in for. A lifetime of being out 'Jonesed' at every family gathering. A lifetime of hearing 'Mulder gave Dana this and Mulder gave William that'. Or worse yet, maybe even the ego-crushing 'why can't you provide for Tara like Mulder provides for Dana!' I can feel the 50-year migraine starting just behind my left eye. "Bill, where's the punch?" Tara asks as she showing off her earrings to our next-door neighbors. "Oh, yeah, punch," I mumble and beat a hasty retreat into the kitchen. I hear the door swing and don't bother to turn around. "I've got it, Tara. I couldn't find the new bottle of 7-Up." "It's not Tara, Bill." Oh shit, it's Mulder. But I keep my face steady. The bastard just gave my wife and mother at least a couple thousand dollars worth of presents, I can be grateful. Can't I? "Bill, I, uh, what Tara said back there," he mumbles. I refuse to let this discussion happen. He's got money, I don't. Big deal. It's not the end of the world. "It's OK, Mulder. You gave some terrific presents tonight. She got a little overwhelmed. No big deal," I say, making sure my hands are occupied with pouring fruit punch and 7-Up into the cut glass bowl. Cut glass. Damn, even the punch bowl is depressing me now. "Bill, can I be honest with you?" I really don't want to look at the guy right now, but I can't exactly shove past him with the punch bowl. It would end up on both of us. So I turn, wiping my hands on a dishtowel. "Bill, I probably should have told you that I was getting Tara those earrings. For all I know, you're giving her a set just like them." I snort. Not at my pay grade. "I just wanted both of you to know how much I appreciate all that you've done for us. You didn't have to plan all this. It's been a really wonderful ceremony for Dana. She wanted a church wedding the first time, but it didn't turn out that way. You've given her something I couldn't give her. I just wanted to find a way to repay you." I can't help myself, it just blurts out. "By giving my wife earrings I could never afford to give her?" Mulder closes his eyes for a second, like he hadn't given it any thought at all until this moment. "I, I never meant . . . Bill, in my family, money was never a problem. You've seen how I live. I buy expensive suits because they fit better. If we weren't living in Dana's apartment, Will would be growing up in a one-bedroom fourth floor with an elevator that runs half the time. Money really doesn't mean that much to me. I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. I'll try to remember it in the future." His hand comes out and I'm now forced to make a decision. He's not the man I hated for so long. I got over that. He's not my sister's lover. I was able to ignore all that. No, this man is now my brother, that's just how our family is. And just as Charlie can drive me crazy at times, like when he shows up after our sister's wedding, well, this man is likely to drive me crazy at times, too. But that's how brothers are. That's what family is. The warts, the Jonesing, the whole nine yards. I take his hand and shake it firmly. "Just keep the earrings to under 500 next time," I tell him sternly. He laughs, a relieved laugh if I can judge by the sound of it. At that moment, Dana comes through the doorway. "Will is asleep, I just fed him again. If we leave now . . ." "Right there," he tells her with a wink. "Just one more thing." "OK, I'll get our sweaters. It's turned chilly out there." "Well, Bill," Mulder says, shrugging his shoulder while digging in his pants pocket. "I guess I should take these back and exchange them for something a little less showy, huh?" I look at him in confusion. He pulls out season tickets for the San Diego Chargers. I can see the seats. These are _really_ good seats! I snatch the tickets out of his hand and pull him into a bear hug. "Damn, Mulder, if you weren't married to my sister, I'd tell Tara we'd have to make it a threesome!" And turn around to see my wife, my mother and my sister all staring at us from the doorway of the kitchen. "Mulder, it's time to go," Dana says coolly. Mom and Tara look like they're about to burst. "Yeah, sure, ready when you are, babe," he tells her and goes over to give Mom a kiss on the cheek and then looks back to me. I nod and he gives Tara a kiss on the cheek, too. Tara and I walk them to the door. "Mulder, about what I said in the kitchen," I tell him as they start to head for their rental car. "Yeah?" he turns to look at me. "You can go higher, if the mood hits." His grin is worth it. Everything I've been through this day and to come. We wave as they get in the car and drive off. Tara gives me a hug and walks with me back into the house. Before we rejoin the party, she pulls me down to give me a kiss. I have to admit, the earrings look perfect on her. "What was that with Mulder?" she asks. I can look innocent when I want to. "Just a thing between brothers," I assure her. I have one of _those_ brothers-in-law. And I wouldn't change him for the world. The end.