Three FBI Agents, Three Conspiracy Members, Three Conspiracy Theorists,
Three Extraneous Family Members (Two Real, One Imagined), Seven Ghosts, A
Surfer, and A Baby...
Fandom: X-Files -humor-
Rating: R, for an adult (and increasingly slashy) sense of humor
Archiving: Unless Ellie objects, sure, why not?
Once again, the dynamic duo of Ellie and Tiriel set to speculating about an
X-Files enigma. The topic this time: the paternity of Scully's baby. Nobody in
here belongs to us, and this is parody, so the depiction of one real person in
here is intended for laughs only. If you've read our previous XF effort, you
might catch an extra joke.
Walter Skinner leaned back in his overstuffed leather chair and fixed the one
remaining member of the X-Files department of
the FBI with an unwavering gaze. This wasn't his usual, "What in the hell have
you let your idiot partner bumble into this time?"
glower, nor the patented, "You do realize I'm about to get it up the backside
thanks to you, don't you?" glare, or even the up
and coming (but quickly gaining popularity) "I don't even want to know what
the hell is going on 'cause Krycek's got an itchy
Palm Pilot finger" frown. While there was a definite undercurrent of
displeasure, this particular expression was more puzzled
than grumpy. Indeed every few moments his eyebrows would descend and seem to
crumple into one another like a messy
fender bender on a busy highway. He's open his mouth, pause for a second or
two, and then snap it shut again. Scully
wondered vaguely if she should settle in for the afternoon. Would her superior
think less of her if she kicked off the hideously
expensive leather pumps that were now turning her feet into the general
consistency of Italian sausage? She was, quite frankly,
disinclined to care at the moment.
After a lengthy silence Skinner removed his glasses and paused to rub his eyes
wearily. He seemed to regather his thoughts with
that action and finally blurted, "For god's sake, Scully just tell me!"
Blinking two very innocent-looking blue eyes at him she asked, "Tell you
He shoved his glasses back on with the sort of violence people usually
reserved for slamming doors and growled, "You know
damn well what! Who..." Skinner paused for a second and looked around the room
as if he expected to see the Smoking Man
crouching behind one of the potted plants. "...is the father?"
"Well, sir," she said, "that's an interesting question. You see--" Scully
paused at the sound of a loud thump from the coat closet.
She frowned. She wasn't entirely sure that there was usually a coat closet in
A.D. Skinner's office, but there was one now, and
it had just thumped. Or rather, something inside it had. She drew her gun with
silent efficiency and stood up, moving slowly
toward the source of the noise.
Skinner pulled a gun from his desk drawer and did the same. He placed a hand
on the knob and silently mouthed, "One, two,
three." Then he opened the door in one quick movement. He coughed loudly.
Scully realized that she'd been watching Skinner move rather than looking into
the closet, and turned abruptly. Like a big cat,
she thought, and then turned her attention to the pair of figures emerging
from the closet in a cloud of rather smelly cigarette
smoke. "Would you mind putting that out? It's bad for the baby."
"Of course, Agent Scully. We wouldn't want to harm your precious cargo, now
would we?" The Cigarette Smoking Man
stepped out of the closet and pinched out his cigarette.
"But didn't I hear that you were dead?" Skinner said. "Oh, never mind. What
are you doing in my office?"
"You're not the only one interested in the identity of the baby's father.
That's what we're doing here." Alex Krycek followed the
CSM out of the closet, hand in his coat pocket.
"Oh, for Pete's sake, is anybody else in that closet with you two?" Scully
lowered her gun.
"Well, Agent Mulder, of course," Krycek said, then, to everyone's amazement,
blushed and ducked his head. "Sorry. Bad
joke. He's with the aliens of course." After a glare from the gaunt man next
to him, he corrected himself again. "Actually, I have
no idea where Agent Mulder might or might not be."
The CSM cleared his throat. "Agent Mulder's whereabouts are irrelevant at this
point. I'm afraid you'll have to come with us,
"And why is that? We're the ones with the guns." She cocked her head to one
"Because I still have control over A.D. Skinner's continued well-being,"
Krycek said with a sly smile.
"She's not going anywhere without me," Skinner said, stepping closer to her.
"Of course. Bring them both," the CSM said, and stepped back into the closet.
Krycek gestured for Skinner and Scully to
Marita tapped perfectly manicured fingertips against the steering wheel of
what she and Alex had less than affectionately
dubbed "The CancerMobile." "Her name is Rio and she dances on the sand..." she
sang along with the radio, checking her
makeup one more time. It wasn't that she was overly vain, though she'd always
tried to look her best, of course. One didn't
make it into the upper echelon of corrupt uber-conspiracies with split ends
and bad teeth. Well, not unless they were a man.
She frowned. It was so typical of the misogynistic patriarchal society they
lived in. But that would all be changing soon enough,
one way or another. Not that she necessarily thought women would gain instant
equality once they landed. Indeed it was a
pretty good bet they'd all end up alien goulash. Still it might almost be
worth it if she could watch old Smoky get turned gooey
first. That thought put a brilliant smile on her exquisitely rouged lips.
Simon LeBon continued to croon as the former double agent/conspiracy guinea
pig/chauffeur muttered, "I could've been Rio. I
look devastating in a bikini and body paint." And she did, Alex had even said
so on their last trip to Afghanistan. She kept
trying to remember how cute Alex looked in a Speedo and Uzi but all she could
picture was Duran Duran bass guitarist John
Taylor in similar attire. It was such a lovely image that she sighed happily.
She'd have to check the fan club hotline when she got
back to her place, Duran Duran was touring and she'd be damned if she was
gonna miss them again this year.
Before she could launch her favorite fantasy, the one where Simon pulled her
up on stage like Courtney Cox in that Bruce
Springsteen video, the back door opened and Agent Scully slid in. Skinner was
right behind her, looking profoundly unhappy
about the situation. Eyeing the Assistant Director speculatively, Marita
couldn't help thinking that if she was the one with the
Palm Pilot of Doom she'd put it to much better use than Alex had been inclined
to. Of course Krycek had the raging thigh
sweats for Mulder (who didn't?) so she could forgive him his oversight.
As Marita pulled away from the curb, she was still too distracted by daydreams
of 80's pop bands to notice the unmarked
white van that followed them. Inside the van, an argument was taking place.
"I told you, you're following too close. They'll see us." Byers straightened
his tie. "We do not want to be seen."
"Then put on the hard hat and coveralls," Frohike said, "and stop whining. We
aren't following close enough. The lovely Agent
Scully's life may depend on this."
"Those things smell like the sewer. I'm not putting them on." Byers wrinkled
"Well, then, get in the back seat where no one will see you. You'll blow our
cover." Frohike pulled at Byers' shoulder. Byers
slapped Frohike's hand away.
Langly reached over from the driver's seat and put his arm between them. "I'm
driving. Don't make me pull this van over. God,
I sound like my father. Byers, either put on the disguise, or get in the back.
Frohike, shut up. I am following at just the right
distance. They won't see us."
"What kind of disguise is it? I mean, we're in a plain white van. We could
wear normal clothes," Byers grumbled as he switched
places with Frohike.
"And who died and made you king, Langly?" Frohike settled into the front
"Who found out about this little plan of theirs? I did. That makes me the one
in charge. Now shut up, the both of you."
The three paranoid conspiracy theorists were too busy bickering to notice the
dark towncar that pulled into traffic behind them
as they followed the car that they had less than affectionately dubbed "The
Margaret Scully hated driving in the city during the work week, traffic was
murderous and her Lincoln wasn't exactly easy to
maneuver at the best of times. Still, this was an emergency and she'd be
damned if her daughter was going anywhere without
her until Dana spilled the beans about the father of the baby.
"I don't know why you're bothering with the cloak and dagger routine, Mom."
Bill grumbled, his bottom lip stuck out petulantly.
"We all know who the father is, it's that sorry sonuvabitch Mulder. I mean
it's not like she's so much as looked at another guy in
the past seven years."
"We don't know that for certain, dear, and sit up straight." Margaret replied
pleasantly. Sparing a glance at the back seat she
sighed, "Charlie are you just going to sit there like a lump all day? I swear
it's almost impossible to get even two words out of
you. Sometimes it's like you're an imaginary son."
Bill's eyes traveled to the backseat almost unconsciously. He knew there was
nobody back there, but he couldn't quite help it.
Thirty something years of their mom's little "eccentricity" and he still
almost believed he really did have another brother. "Uh,
he's asleep, mom. Are, um, are you sure we're doing the right thing here? I
mean can't we get in trouble following a Federal
agent all over town?"
"Of course not, dear, I'm her mother."
Her logic was, of course, impeccable so Bill leaned back in his seat and
decided to make the best of the situation. He closed
his eyes and imagined castrating Fox Mulder...with a spork. Yeah, a really
dull spork at that.
Margaret Scully, meanwhile, was indulging in a little fantasy of her own. It
involved her daughter's reluctant revelation that Fox
was indeed the father of her baby. Margaret would purse her lips and let Dana
know precisely how disappointed she was in
her. "A baby out of wedlock, Dana Katherine Scully you should be ashamed of
yourself!" Then, still filled with a mother's
righteous indignation she'd send her wayward daughter off to confession to
bear her soul. While the repentant girl was off doing
her duty she'd have a little...talk...with Fox.
She could almost see his face now, his bottom lip trembling and his sad, puppy
dog eyes gazing up at her from under long,
almost feminine lashes. "Fox, you've been a very naughty boy...very, very
naughty. And you deserve to be punished."
"You're right, ma'am, I do....I deserve to be....spanked."
Margaret allowed herself a blissful smile, and was so lost in the notion of
bending Fox Mulder over her knee for a good
old-fashioned thrashing that she almost hit the Honda Civic that came
squealing around the intersection in front of her.
Inside the Civic, the grey-haired surfer reassured his nervous passenger.
"Don't worry. Nothing happens without me. We won't
The pouty-lipped man who was clinging to any available grippable surface as
the driver careened madly through the streets
didn't look reassured. "Sometimes I think you have a God complex. You act like
you created the world. And why do we even
have to be there for the whole thing? I don't think I want to be there for the
whole thing. Maybe half of it. Maybe a little less.
And only if I get my fair share of the syndication rights."
"This particular event is not being taped for broadcast. And watch it, or I'll
send you back to the aliens."
Suddenly, the interior color scheme of the car changed, but the grey-haired
man didn't seem to notice. Continuity had never
been his strong suit.
Meanwhile, on a plane of existence slightly out of phase from our own, there
were several others who were following the
caravan with interest.
"Agent Scully's family, Agent Mulder, The Lone Gunmen, Skinner, CGB Spender,
Krycek, Marita, and of course, Agent
Scully herself. A towncar, a Honda, a van, and a nice, subtle limousine. Quite
the little parade. Is there anyone who isn't
there?" Deepthroat smiled to himself as he floated along behind. No one in the
vehicles noticed his presence, of course,
because he was still dead. His companions, however, were quite aware of his
"I don't know, but Fox had better not be the father of that redheaded bitch's
baby," Diana Fowley hissed.
"And if it's my father, I think I'm going to be sick." Jeffrey Spender
"You can't be sick. You're dead." X's voice somehow sounded even deeper than
it had when he was alive.
"It was a figure of speech, dear boy. Don't be such a grump. Let the kids have
their fun." The Well-Manicured Man smiled at
Jeffrey. "This is what we get for not watching closely enough. That's why we
all died, you know, and did we learn our lessons?
No. Turn your back for even a second and suddenly Agent Scully is pregnant.
One of you at least should have known."
"I don't know why we even care anymore."
"Because, X, old chap, death is not always permanent, and it wouldn't do to go
back and not be up to date on the latest
"Shh, they're saying something." Deepthroat pointed to the limo that carried
Scully, Skinner, Krycek, Marita, and the CSM.
When Marita's voice crackled over the limo's intercom the four inhabitants of
its spacious interior nearly jumped out of their
collective skins. "Excuse me, boss," she purred, it had taken her nearly six
months to recover her uber-sexy, husky voice and
she intended to use it at every opportunity, "but precisely where are we
CBG reached unconsciously for a cigarette, but let his hand drop at a glare
from Scully. "I...that is...I believe you were
informed regarding our final destination before we left."
"No sir, I wasn't."
Smoking Man squirmed slightly in his seat. "Yes, I distinctly remember giving
you the coordinates earlier."
"No, sir, that was your order at the Wendy's drive through."
"Oh...it was? Well, then we'll be going to..." He paused to consider several
options, but didn't seem overly excited about any of
them. "We'll go to...no, can't go there the al- er - I mean 'our associates'
are using that location. Hmm, how about...no, no
Mulder blew that one up. The Department of Defense is completely out of the
"How come?" Krycek asked, a bit distracted by the white van behind them that
kept creeping up on their bumper.
"It's been done to death."
Spender Sr. sighed, "Alex, this is precisely the sort of thing that keeps you
from joining the upper echelon of our happy little
group." He paused to take out a nicotine patch and slap it on his arm. "It's a
question of style, never repeat yourself. You might
want make a note of that."
Krycek slipped the Palm Pilot out of one of his inner jacket pockets and
dutifully scribbled a message to himself with the stylus.
'Remember to kill Ol' Smokey again, this time kill him a lot.' When he glanced
up he noticed a fine sheen of sweat had broken
out on the A.D.'s bald pate. "Oh settle down, Walter, I'm not going to hurt
The intercom piped in once more. "Still waiting for those directions, sir."
"Yes, yes of course. Let's see, where can we enjoy a bit of privacy that
hasn't been destroyed, uncovered, or otherwise
compromised by the Dynamic Duo." A significant look from the aging
conspiricist elicited complete indifference from the
diminutive agent directly across from him.
"What about your place?" Krycek continued to dangle the stylus over his Palm
just to watch Skinner shrink back into his seat in
Grimacing, CGB returned, "It's hardly the sort of place for such a momentous
event. At any rate I was up early managing a
government overthrow in the Middle East, so I didn't really tidy up."
Dejected, he asked Marita, "Can't you just pick a place? I
trust your judgment, my dear."
A barely contained snort echoed over the intercom. "Sure, sir. I think I see a
spot that might suit our purposes."
An altogether too perky young woman of perhaps all of 17 chirped, "Welcome to
Denny's, how many in your party?"
"Five." Marita supplied helpfully.
"Great! Will that be smoking or non?"
"Smoking." "Non-smoking." two voices sang out simultaneously.
This confused their hostess to absolutely no end. "But we don't have a
"Just seat us in non-smoking, dear." Marita cooed, patting her lightly on the
That seemed to restore the girl's former enthusiasm. "Right! Just follow me."
The party followed, with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Marita smiled to
herself. Normally she wouldn't be caught dead in a
place like this, but she'd had some twisted impulse to see the cancer-ridden
old bastard in a Denny's. She couldn't quite explain
it. Or should that be "formerly cancer-ridden?" Who could keep track?
As Marita privately wondered whether or not CGB Spender had been dipping into
conspiracy bank accounts to fund plastic
surgery for himself and began to speculate on the possibilities of what that
kind of cash could accomplish in the right hands,
namely hers, another group was entering the restaurant.
"Three," Margaret Scully said firmly. "Non-smoking."
"Two," Bill corrected. "Charlie's waiting in the car in case they try to sneak
"Thanks, Mother. Miss, could we be seated right over there?" Bill pointed to a
booth that was next to the one occupied by
Scully, Skinner, Krycek, Marita, and the CSM, but separated from it by some
very sad-looking fake plants. From there, they'd
be able to hear and not be seen. And he could continue coming up with new and
creative methods of castrating Fox Mulder in
Outside, in the white van, the Lone Gunmen were discussing the best way to
approach the problem at hand.
"I say we should go in through the back." Byers said emphatically.
"No. We've got to save her. We go in through the front and we get her out.
They wouldn't dare to try anything in such a public
place." Frohike seemed ready to jump out of the van and run in. Privately, he
was harboring fantasies of the lovely Agent
Scully's gratitude. Something along the lines of "Oh, Frohike, you saved me.
How can I ever repay you?" Langly's words
brought him out of his reverie.
"Are you kidding? Do you have any idea what goes on in the back of a Denny's?
Didn't you read the article I wrote on that last
year? I mean, sure, I spent a lot of time there in college with my gaming
buddies, but I had no idea then what really went on in
those places. Plus, they're involved in funneling money to--"
"Fine. Let's go in the front. Quietly." Byers shot Frohike a warning look.
"We'll check out the situation and then decide what to
do. Now take off those 'disguises' so you at least look semi-normal."
As the Lone Gunmen were seated in another inconspicuous location within the
Denny's, the Honda Civic was idling out back.
"We are going to wait until it's the right moment for your entrance," said the
grey-haired man with a smile.
Inside the Denny's, there were now three booths full of people interested in
the paternity of Scully's child, not to mention the
invisible onlookers, who didn't need to deal with the perky hostess or worry
about finding a place where they were
inconspicuous. The five ghostly observers suddenly found themselves joined by
"So, I'm going to have a little brother or sister, Aunt Melissa?"
"That's right, sweetie, and we're here so that we can find out who the daddy
is. Then we're going to go tell your grandfather. He
couldn't be here because he's working on another series." Melissa Scully
patted Emily on the shoulder. "And the Mulders were
going to be here, too, but they're late. They're always vanishing. Now you see
these five? They're dead, too. The two older
ones are kind of sweet, but the three younger ones aren't. Especially the lady
with the dark hair. She's a real b--well, anyway,
she's not nice at all. Most importantly, don't trust any of them. Okay?"
"Okay." The two Scullys moved away from the other five ghosts. The
Well-Manicured Man and Deepthroat smiled kindly at
Emily. Diana Fowley shot Melissa a filthy look and muttered under her breath.
Spender looked embarrassed, probably
remembering his family's part in Emily's existence. X looked merely bored.
At the table that was the focus of attention of three conspiracy theorists,
two living Scullys, two dead Scullys, and five
dead-but-hoping-to-live-again-someday conspiracy participants, the CSM was
fidgeting with a pen as if he could smoke it, and
Scully was attempting to get the attention of a waitress.
The waitress sailed obliviously by.
"Agent Scully, can we get down to business?" the Smoking Man asked
impatiently. "We need to have a discussion."
"After I get some food. You dragged me here, the least you can do is feed me.
I'm eating for two. Excuse me!" Yet another
waitress passed them without a glance.
Krycek rolled his eyes. "Fine." He stood up and pulled out a gun. "COULD WE
GET SOME SERVICE HERE, PLEASE?"
The entire restaurant fell silent for a moment. Then screams sounded as
patrons and employees alike scattered, heading for the
doors. After a moment of chaos, no one was left except for the Scullys, the
Lone Gunmen, the party at Agent Scully's table,
and, of course, the ghosts.
"Oh, that's just great, Alex. Look what you did." Marita was filing her
"And now how am I going to get my food?" Scully asked.
"Marita, go back to the kitchen and see what you can find for Agent Scully,"
CancerMan said quietly.
"What, because I'm a woman I have to be the one to do the cooking? That is so
"Now," he said. Marita stood and stomped back toward the kitchen.
At the sight of employees fleeing out the back door, the grey-haired surfer
dude turned off the Civic's engine. "Now we can go
in, Agent Mulder, but stay out of sight until I tell you. We want to wait
until the best moment for dramatic effect."
"Hey! You turned it off in the middle of my favorite song. That was that Bree
Sharp chick!" Mulder protested. The grey-haired
man merely smiled and got out of the car, heading for the back door of the
"And look what we have here," Alex Krycek said, noticing that two booths were
"Mom!" Dana Scully said. "Bill, you should have known better."
"I'm just waiting for Mulder to show up. Then I need a bungee cord and a tall
cliff...I'm gonna hook the cord to his" Bill
gestured expressively, "and push him off and then he won't be fathering any
more children. He'll be singing soprano when I'm
through with him."
"But, Dana, you really need to tell us who it is."
"And what are we, chopped liver? We're here to save you and you won't even say
hi?" Frohike pouted as he saw his fantasies
of saving the day crumbling around him.
"Everybody sit down and shut up!" All heads turned in shock to Walter Skinner,
whose face was bright red. "I don't mean to
shout because I realize that you're the ones with the guns, and the Palm
Pilots, but someone has to take charge here. This is
Both Dana and Margaret released shaky, hormone induced sighs. He was so
forceful, so manly, so...loud. Even Krycek was
starting to give him an appraising once over. Maybe he had overlooked certain
possibilities where the assistant director was
concerned, certain entertaining and with any luck, extremely fulfilling
CGB Spender stood stiffly, a straw dangling from his lips and put in, "I
concur with the Assistant Director, this really is
counterproductive. We are, after all, here for the same purpose. I propose we
take a seat and discuss this like a group of
"I'm not sitting anywhere near that guy." Langly pouted, folding two pale,
scrawny arms over his They Might Be Giants t-shirt.
If Spender Sr. was offended he certainly didn't show it. Of course the fact
that he'd already made arrangements to ship the
three Gunmen off to Yemen might have helped him maintain his composure. "Fine,
just pull a chair over into the corner. After all
it's not as if you have anything to contribute."
The other man pushed his glasses up and growled, "I could." Everyone gave him
a dubious look. "I could too! For all you know
I could be the father."
"No, Langly," Dana replied somberly, "you really couldn't."
Meanwhile in the kitchen the gray-haired man grinned and jotted down a few
notes. "Boy wouldn't that blow peoples' minds?
Langly, the father of Scully's baby." He continued to cackle gleefully as he
"But I thought I was supposed to be the father." Mulder whined, beginning to
think this whole 'I need a break from the XFiles'
thing was a truly piss-poor idea.
"Nah, too obvious."
"But...but..." the other man's lower lip began to tremble dramatically. "What
about all the 'Shippers?"
"Just because I've thrown them a bone or two in the past season doesn't mean
I'm gonna totally cave and give 'em everything
they want. At any rate there's more than just one 'Shipper group out there,
you know. In fact a really prodigious number want
you and Krycek screwing like bunnies."
"That's gross," he replied a little too quickly, clearing his throat loudly
and loosening his collar.
"Personally I've always kinda liked the 'Daddy Skinner and his bitch Mulder'
contingent. Actually there's this one story that
takes place in one of these restaurants...."
"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," Mulder squeaked.
Marita didn't even notice the two men in baseball caps and trenchcoats lurking
near the kitchen doors, she was too busy trying
to figure out what she was going to serve the others. What food there was
looked less than appetizing even if she were capable
of figuring out how to cook it. Standing in the middle of the kitchen she
gazed around morosely as if waiting for a meal to
magically appear in front of her. When it didn't she muttered darkly, "Screw
them, I'm going home."
However, the thought of ending up back in a Consortium lab playing, "Mutation
of the Week" didn't sound too appealing either.
With a muttered Russian expletive, she grabbed the first thing she could find
and set to work.
Meanwhile Skinner, Bill Scully, and Melvin Frohike were busy shoving tables
together. Langly sat as far from the others as
possible and sulked while Margaret Scully fretted, "I don't think we should
leave Charlie in the car. I mean he's Dana's brother,
he'd want to be here."
Her daughter looked puzzled for a moment. "Who?" Bill gave her an elbow jab to
the side, which seemed to jog her memory.
"Oh...oh yeah, Charlie. Don't worry, Mom, I'll fill him in later."
"Well, all right, dear."
Pulling up chairs, Krycek thoughtfully removed the condiments and napkin
holders. Everyone took a seat as Marita slinked out
of the back carrying a large serving tray. She sat it down near her employer
and started pouring everyone drinks. When no one
seemed to be interested in helping themselves she frowned. "I thought you said
you were hungry."
"Peanut butter sandwiches?"
Marita slammed a glass of ice water down in front of Scully and replied, "Hey
if you think you can do better, you can just
march right back there and do it yourself. I'm a freaking double agent, not
Krycek shrugged and grabbed one of the neat sandwich squares. After all he'd
spent the past few months eating Turkish prison
food, surely it couldn't be any worse than that. After a bite he reconsidered
that assumption. He really wished he hadn't moved
those napkins, they'd have come in handy.
"Are you going to eat that?" Scully had already polished off her sandwich and
was licking her fingers. Krycek pushed the
remains of his sandwich over to her. After all, she was eating for two. The
nagging question about why Marita seemed
so...well-acquainted...with the pizza delivery boy now answered, he allowed
himself to drift into fantasy. Oh, the things he could
make Skinner do with the threat of the Palm Pilot hanging over his head. With
luck, he wouldn't even need to threaten. Maybe
Skinner would be the type who liked games. "Horny Fugitive," for example...
Spender Sr. stood and cleared his throat. "Now, Agent Scully, would you be so
kind as to answer the Assistant Director's
question? Who is the father of your baby?"
"Now," hissed the grey-haired man, pushing Mulder through the kitchen doors.
He then moved into the main room to lurk
behind a large, fake, potted palm.
"Sorry I'm late. Did I miss anything important?" Mulder strolled casually into
the room, looking impeccably groomed for a man
who'd just returned from who-knows-where.
He was met by a veritable sea of gaping mouths.
"What, not even a hello? Didn't anybody miss me?"
"No," Bill Scully said, just as Krycek said "Yes."
Mulder flashed a brilliant smile.
"Fox Mulder, where the heck have you been? You've been a very bad boy, leaving
Dana all alone in her delicate condition."
Margaret Scully frowned at him.
"Delicate condition? What's going on here, Scully?" Mulder pulled a chair over
to the end of the table.
"Well, Mulder, I'm pregnant."
His eyebrows shot up and he yelped, "Wha-? But, but you distinctly said you
weren't able to have a baby. I mean it was an
established fact." He paused to do a little mental calculation. "So, wait,
I've been wallowing in guilt over the fact that I was,
indirectly of course, the one responsible for taking away any chance that you
could settle down and have 2.5 kids...for
four...friggin'...years!" Running a hand through his far too shortly cropped
locks he sighed like a martyred saint.
"Well it's not as if I knew anything about it either. I mean my doctors told
me, quite clearly I might add, that I was barren. I had
all the tests in the book, I've still got the results at home. There's just no
way it could have happened, but...well, it did."
Scully was looking a bit sheepish, while Mulder was fighting down a homicidal
urge. "Sure. Fine. Whatever." Suddenly it
occurred to him who his anger should truly be aimed at. "Hold it." he muttered
and stormed back into the kitchen. He returned
with an older man in a rumpled trenchcoat, currently looking a tad bit nervous
as Mulder waved his Glock threateningly. "Right,
you, let's have some kind of an explanation here."
"Why are you asking me? I'm just an innocent bystander."
Mulder waved the gun a bit more forcefully and added his best imitation of
Skinner's glower to boot. "Cut the crap, Carter,
CGB slapped another nicotine patch on the back of his left hand and fiddled
uneasily with a breadstick. "By all means, Mr.
Carter, we would all be fascinated to hear the explanation for this
particular, ah, shall we say, highly unexpected conception."
The other man yanked himself free of Mulder's grasp and removed his coat to
reveal a wildly colored Hawaiian shirt and
shorts. "Look, I'd like to tell you, I really would but I can't."
"Why not?" everyone chorused.
"Well for one thing there are still several weeks before the series starts up
again. And that's only if production runs smoothly
and or I don't decide to delay it just to build suspense and drive the fans
absolutely stark, staring mad with curiosity." He
smirked before adding, "Well, crazier anyway, heh. What I would've given to be
a fly on the wall in several million households
the night the finale ran." Shaking his head with delight the man grinned from
ear to ear. "But don't worry by...oh, November at
the latest everything will be revealed...sort of."
"Sort of?" Scully shot to her feet, a 5'2" tower of righteous indignation.
"So, I'm supposed to what, just twiddle my thumbs and
gestate for the next three months until you decide to let us know what's going
on? If you let us know what's going on!"
"Calm down, dear." her mother soothed. "It's not good for the baby."
"Wait a second," Marita glanced up from the napkin origami swan she'd been
making. "So Agent Scully doesn't even know
who the baby's father is?"
Dana sighed and shook her head a bit sadly. Her mother and brother were
stunned, the Gunmen astonished, and Krycek and
Spender Sr. apparently unsurprised, or at least attempting to appear that
"So this whole exercise was completely futile." The sexy double agent stood
and folded her arms with deceptive calm. "I just
spent time in a Denny's kitchen...for nothing. I just made peanut butter
sandwiches...for nothing. That's just great."
Krycek continued to play Pokemon Stadium on his Palm while muttering, "Oh calm
"Easy for you to say, you're not the one with institutional brand peanut
butter under your fingernails. And I just had a manicure!"
"That's enough!" All heads turned to Scully, who had stood up on her chair to
gain everyone's attention. "I've been pushed
around and followed around enough for one day."
"You tell 'em, sis," Melissa Scully said encouragingly.
"First of all, we are going to clear some of you out of this room. By the way,
why the hell aren't the police here? Krycek chased
everyone else out at gunpoint."
"Well, they've probably been assured by certain respectable parties that all
is under control. Not that I would know for certain,
of course," CGB Spender said.
"Fine. Whatever. First of all, would the ghosts please go? I love you to bits,
Melissa, and you, too, Emily, but this room is way
too crowded. Tell Dad I love him. And as for the rest of you," she pointed at
X, Deepthroat, Spender, Fowley, and the
Well-Manicured Man, "you're not even here for a good reason. So go. Especially
you." Her voice held particular venom when
she looked at Diana Fowley.
"Y-you can see us?" The younger Spender looked puzzled.
"Oh, for Pete's sake, of course I can. It's part of the whole Saint Scully
routine. Blame it on him." She pointed at the man, again
wearing his trenchcoat, who was attempting to slink back behind a potted
plant. "Oh, no. You stay."
The ghosts meekly vanished, one by one, yielding to the authority projected by
the redheaded presence before them. Melissa
and Emily waved and smiled, as did Deepthroat and the Well-Manicured Man. The
others exited scowling.
"Ghosts? Excuse me, Dana, but have you gone mad?"
"No, Mother, I haven't, and you're one to talk. I have one brother. One, one,
one. There is no Charlie. And you and Bill aren't
relevant to this discussion, either. So go."
"You heard me, Mother. Out."
"Come on, Mom. We can find out later." Bill "accidentally" bumped Mulder's
chair as he passed. "I've got plans for you," he
hissed into Mulder's ear. He led his mother out of the Denny's.
"Marita, why don't you go do something about those nails you're so worried
about. You're certainly no use here."
Marita flounced out of the Denny's.
"And as for you three," Scully turned to the Lone Gunmen, "I guarantee that
none of you is the father of my baby. And no,
Frohike, I don't need you to make an 'honest woman' of me, so don't even
offer. I appreciate the effort of you three coming to
'save' me, but I'm well in control of the situation. So go."
The three conspiracy theorists filed quietly out. Scully turned to survey the
remaining members of the party. Mulder, Skinner,
Krycek, Spender, and of course Carter.
"Ok now we're going to get to the bottom of this, with or without Mr. Carter's
help." Scully paused just long enough in her
tirade to blow a wisp of auburn hair from her eyes. "As I see it you four are
the only viable candidates for the position of father
of my baby."
"But Scully...!" Mulder was positively aghast.
She turned to him and laying a comforting hand on his shoulder murmured,
"Look, Mulder, believe me you're right at the top of
"Top of your list?! We've spent the past seven years together! We've... we've
exchanged comforting hugs and meaningful
"Yeah, but that's it, and this may come as a bit of a shock to you, Mulder,
but a little more than that is required to make a
"But what about 'The Kiss'?"
"Which one? The one we almost had in your hallway a few years back or the
rather chaste and unexciting one we exchanged
on New Years after we were both attacked by zombies?"
"Chaste? I...well...ok, maybe that wasn't some of my best work but you weren't
exactly over enthusiastic about it either."
She considered that statement for a moment. "You know, you're right, I wasn't.
That strikes me as odd, I mean the one I laid
on A.D. Skinner was a lot more..."
"Wait, what?" Krycek asked, stunned.
"You know, in the elevator."
Spender and Krycek exchanged a confused look, which they both immediately
tried to cover. "Oh yeah, that one. Sure we
knew all about that one."
Spender added, "Yes indeed, it was very hot."
"'Hot'?" Mulder yelped. "Skinner gets lucky in the elevator and I get the
sisterly treatment? I broke into the freakin' DOD for
you...I-I-I went to Antarctica and pulled you off of a friggin' alien space
craft! And now you're telling me you played tonsil
hockey with Skinner?"
Scully blushed furiously. "It was hardly that, I mean I was just really
"Grateful? For what?"
Giving Spender and Krycek a significant look she muttered, "We can discuss
"So you're grateful to Skinner for doing something for you, once, and lay a
wet one on him. I, on the other hand, who has saved
your life on more occasions than bears thinking about, get nothing but a
'Thanks, Mulder' and the occasional platonic gesture?"
"Did I mention that I was really grateful at the time?" Noticing that this
wasn't really having the desired effect she sighed,
"Look, just because we haven't actually done anything significant onscreen
doesn't mean it hasn't happened. I mean just read a
little fanfic and you'll find us all over each other. Heck, in some of them
we're already married with kids."
"But it's not canon! I want some onscreen nookie, I want mood lighting and a
music soundtrack!" He turned on Carter. "Got
"Sure, sure. I'll keep it in mind for the next movie."
Somehow Mulder didn't find that reassurance all that comforting. "Fine. But
that still doesn't answer the question, who's the
father? Unless...just what else have you 'shared' with A.D. Skinner?"
"Wait a second, don't drag me into this." the older man cried, scooting his
chair back a bit in case he needed to make a quick
getaway. "Not that I wouldn't be flattered," he amended for Scully, "but aside
from that one kiss I've gotten exactly zip. I mean
aside from that dead prostitute a few years back I've been as chaste as a
"Really? That's hard to believe." Krycek smiled at Skinner. "What a waste."
"Which brings me to you, Krycek." Scully looked over at him. "Everybody but
Marita knows that you're queerer than a
three-dollar bill, but I wouldn't put this sort of twisted joke past you. So
fess up, and I'll tell you what Skinner said about you
once. Do you know anything about this?" She pointed at her stomach.
"No. I swear on my lost arm. I swear on my gun." Krycek looked at her
"Agent Scully..." Skinner's tone was warning, and his face was reddening, all
the way up to the top of his bald head.
Scully smiled at him and leaned over to whisper in Krycek's ear.
"Really? He really said that?" Krycek smiled the smile of a man who's just
unwrapped exactly what he wanted for his birthday.
Scully waggled her eyebrows and nodded.
Krycek cleared his throat. "Well, then. I think we'll be going. A.D. Skinner,
you're coming with me."
Skinner opened his mouth to protest, then shut it again. "Fine." He followed
Krycek toward the kitchen.
Scully turned to Spender, Mulder, and Carter. "Now. CancerMan, I don't care
whether or not you're really Mulder's father or
whether you were just screwing with his head. You may well have been
responsible for some twisted experiment that resulted
in this, and for all I know, I'm carrying an alien hybrid fetus. It's just
warped enough, I wouldn't put it past you or him," she
pointed at Carter, "but hear me now. One child as a result of your meddling
and experiments is enough. Neither the fans nor I
will stand for it again. No more fucking with my life. I've had enough from
you. You. Are. Not. The. Father. Of. This. Child. It
is not alien. Do you understand me?"
"Y-yes." Spender's eyes were wide. "May I be excused now?" The straw he'd been
"smoking" dropped from his hand and
rolled across the table.
"Be my guest," Scully said, "but remember. If it turns out that you did have
anything to do with this, I'll kill you. And I won't
settle for a gunshot or a trip down the stairs. I'm a medical doctor. Your
head will be removed from your body and put in the
X-Files office as a trophy. Mounted and stuffed. And if you have any usable
organs left, I'll donate them. You will be
permanently and irrevocably dead. Do you hear me?"
"Yes, ma'am." Spender hurried toward the door. "Clear as crystal."
"Oh, GOD!" A shout came from the vicinity of the kitchen.
"What was that?" Mulder said. "It sounded like Skinner."
"Never mind, Mulder. We're almost done here." Scully looked at Mulder and
Carter. "Now, Mulder, we've established that
although you would be my first choice, we haven't done the necessary kind of
exchanging of bodily fluids, so you are not the
father. That leaves one option."
"And what's that?"
"OH, GOD!" Another shout from the kitchen.
"Exactly." Scully suppressed a smile. "Angels, miracles, what better to come
next than a miracle birth? Not that I ever wanted
any of that stuff, but one can't argue with one's Creator." She looked at
Carter. "That's right. Everyone knows you've got a
God complex, and it's your idea to put me through this in the first place,
therefore the baby is yours. Figuratively, at least. Now,
regardless of that, I'm choosing Mulder as its father. If Xena can pick the
father of her child, so can I. Besides, the image of him
changing little Fox's diaper while wearing Armani, it just makes me laugh."
"Oh, no, Scully, you are not naming it that. No way." Mulder shook his head
vigorously. As Scully was enjoying Mulder's
reaction, Carter slipped back into the shadows and vanished.
"We'll discuss it later, Mulder. First things first. I'm going to go over to
those doors and take a peek. I have got to see what's
cooking in that kitchen."