New! The Barbecue Series 10: Eggies in the Hanty Date: Tue, 16 Mar 1999 Category: Story, MSR, MulderANGST, MulderTortureLite, mild Sk/Maggie Rating: PG-13 for some language. Spoilers: Let's just say through season 6, to be safe. Summary: The Scully's learn more about Mulder, but more importantly, Mulder learns more about himself. Archive: Yes Disclaimer: The names you recognize 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. Introduction: It picks up in the Barbecue Series Universe and follows the incidents of # 9, so you might want to read it prior to this one...And in fact addresses an aspect of that story that one of my concerned readers brought up in feedback to me. So, never let it be said I don't attempt to right a perceived wrong! Okay MWard?? And to my resident expert on Catholicism, bless you, dear Vickie! And now I know I've come of age! I have made it to a Vickie Moseley Signature! Thank you for all you teach me! The Barbecue Series 10: Eggies in the Hanty by Susan Proto (STPteach@aol.com) Part 1/2 Though we've been back in the X-Files division for a while, I'm still trying to get my desk back into the desired state of chaos that I work best under, so when Scully calls out to me with a question I don't quite hear. "What?" I ask. "I didn't hear you, sorry," I confess. "S'okay, Mulder. I just wanted to remind you we're going over to my mother's house for dinner tomorrow night." "Oh." I look over at my desk calendar to see if I've missed yet another birthday or anniversary somewhere, but all it says in preprinted letters is the date and the words, 'Holy Thursday.' "Scully? Is there something special going on?" "It's Holy Thursday, Mulder. We're going to have our seder," she says, but when she sees my eyes open wide in surprise and puzzlement, she explains, "Mom started having a seder when we moved to Baltimore. Father McKuen was, and still is, very big on ecumenical services. He and the Rabbi over at the reformed temple, Temple Israel, I think it is, have shared services around Easter and Passover for years now. So, Mom had started a tradition of having a seder on Holy Thursday as a remembrance of The Last Supper." "Oh." I'm not sure what to say here. For some reason I feel tongue tied, and I'm not quite sure why. Well, maybe I'm not as unsure as I'd like to think. I do know why, but I'm not sure how to bring it up. You see, I don't want Scully to think I've been lying to her all this time. I mean, I don't think I've been, lying that is. It's just that the subject's never come up. But I'm afraid she might think it's been a lie by omission. I'm not sure what to do. I'm not sure how to tell her. "Scully," I begin hesitantly, as I'm still not sure what's going to come out of my mouth, "have you ever been to a _real_ seder dinner?" "A real seder dinner? What's that supposed to mean, Mulder? We talk about the symbols of Passover, and Mom serves a really nice meal," she says a little defensively. "No, no," I say quickly. "That's not what I meant." I can't believe I put my foot in my mouth already, and I haven't even told her yet. "No, what I mean is, have you ever been to a Passover seder conducted by a Jewish family?" "Oh," she says with a quick smile. She understands I didn't mean any insult to Mom. God knows, I could never insult that woman. She means too damned much to me, as does her daughter. "No, Mulder, I haven't. Nearly went to one once, when I was in college. A suite mate invited me to her home cause it fell out on a long weekend. I was all ready to go, until Ahab got wind of it. He let it be known he was a bit upset I wasn't planning on being home for Good Friday and Easter, especially since he was on shore leave. Needless to say, my one opportunity for attending a Jewish Passover seder came and went." I looked at Scully and wonder why I'm not feeling totally comfortable at this very moment. Maybe it's because I'm not sure whether it was her dad's wish for her to come home to spend the holidays with him, or he just hadn't wanted his little girl attending a Jewish seder. I can't imagine that second thought is really a possibility, but I find myself give off a little shudder anyway. "Mulder, are you all right?" she asks with sudden concern. "You look pale all of a sudden. Do you feel okay?" "I'm fine, Scully. Just a little tired," I say. I'm not lying. I really am okay, physically. I am just a little tired. However, there's also the fact that I'm a little worried about whether or not my nice, Catholic, almost fiancée will be upset over the fact that I, her nice, almost fiancé is Jewish. It's never come up in conversation before. I've never brought it up, because it never seemed to be an issue that needed discussing, yet, all of a sudden, I feel as if there may be a problem. And the irony is I'm the one who shouldn't be the one who cares. But I do. I don't see Scully out and out rejecting me because I'm Jewish, but I don't know if she would be willing to get married outside of her church. Married. The 'M' word. Yeah. We've both been thinking about it. We haven't exactly said it out loud. We've been more inclined to use the 'E' word, as in engagement ring, engagement party, officially engaged, but we haven't done anything official along those lines either. Yet. And now I'm worried that it may never come to pass. Look, I know I'm nuts to give this a second thought. Hell, people look at me as if I'm nuts over a million other things, so why should anything change? But given the fact I haven't practiced Judaism in over twenty-six years, I understand why people might conclude I don't have any business using my religion as a roadblock to marrying Scully. I gave up practicing Judaism when I was shown there were greater forces in the universe that could take an eight year old sister away from her brother, and no God could stop it. Or fix it. Not then, and not twenty-six odd years later. So, I know, though I turned toward the truth, I turned away from God. I stopped believing. But the fact of the matter is, I've never stopped 'being.' I'm a Jew. It's what I am. It's who I am. I'm a Jew. I don't know how to explain that to Scully. I don't know how to make her understand. Hell, I don't know how to make myself understand. So, for now at least, I remain quiet. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ We're about ready to leave for Mom's house, when I tell Scully to wait, as I need to get something from the fridge. She looks at me quizzically, and when I return with the squared wine bottle she looks asks, "What's that?" "Sacramental wine. Manischevitz sweet wine. Kosher for Passover," I inform. "When did you buy that?" she asks. "Last night, when we came home, and I went back out for a run. I figured we should bring something, and this would be appropriate. Did I do something wrong?" I ask. "No, not at all, Mulder. This is very, very sweet of you." I laugh out loud at her unintentional pun. "Yeah, we could all go into diabetic coma after four glasses of this stuff," I say with a chuckle. "Four glasses?" she echoes in puzzlement. "Yeah, you're supposed to drink four glasses of this stuff at a Passover seder," I explain. "Wow, Mulder, you've really been doing your research," she exclaims. "I am impressed." Before I can explain to her my research was more than just looking it up online, she says, "Oh! I forgot to tell you! Charlie's going to be with us tonight." "Charlie? Karen and the kids too?" I ask delighted to hear the youngest Scully sibling would be joining us. "No, just Charlie. He's been called into town for some kind of Naval brouhaha. Bill nearly came in for it too, but unfortunately he came down with a really bad case of the flu." "Aw, that's too bad," I say in a flat, none too sympathetic, monotone. "Mulder, stop. You two were getting along better. I don't understand what happened," she says. "He refused to apologize for accusing me of losing Matty during Mom's Saint Paddy's Day Barbecue," I say through clenched teeth. That incident still burns in my gut. I'd gone out to cool off about something or other, and while I was gone, the baby had disappeared. Everyone had assumed I had something to do with it. Even Scully. That hurt. A lot. And I left once the baby was found hiding under the couch. It wasn't until Scully had dragged me back to the barbecue, and I found the baby in my arms, that Bill had reminded everyone of how it was _my_ fault Matty ended up MIA. Of course I told him that was bullshit, but then he'd said even Dana had thought it was my doing. Well, I'd obviously been feeling the effects of the few bottles I'd guzzled, so I just went off on them all. I'd told everyone I loved them all very much, and I really, really wanted to be a part of this family, but I would not allow them to subject me to those kind of accusations. Not when they had to know how much I loved that child. Now, the fact that I'd been holding on to Matty for dear life at that point probably made me feel a little more emotional than if I hadn't been carrying him. The fact of the matter is, I'd stood there in front of everyone and started bawling like a baby. I don't know what it is about these Scully barbecues and my sudden compulsions to open myself up emotionally like that. By the time we'd gotten back to the apartment, our apartment, Scully had done her best to beg for my forgiveness. Actually, she'd done a great job, cause once we were in the apartment, I got to forgive her over and over and over again. It was a good thing that I'm such a cheap drunk. That alcohol had left my system pretty much after that first plea for forgiveness. Thank heavens. I'd been able to forgive that woman all night long and the next morning too. But I digress. So, no, I'm not at all upset that poor Billy has a touch of the flu. With any luck, it'll develop into pneumonia and give Tara a real break from him. Oh, wait. I forget. Tara actually loves the moron, though for the life of me I haven't figured out why yet. But since I really do care for Tara, I'll just wish him to feel really, really miserable, but not be so sick that Tara has to wait on him hand and foot. "I'm looking forward to seeing Charlie. We really didn't get a chance to talk much during Saint Patrick's Day," I say. Then a thought occurs to me. "Scully, is the AD gonna be there too?" Scully sees my ambivalence, but she nods all the same. "Damn," I mutter aloud. "Are they getting serious, or what?" I ask. I'm feeling a little territorial over my Maggie Scully, and I'm not sure I like the idea of sharing her any more than I have to. "I don't know Mulder. If I had to venture a guess, I'd say they're in real, serious, 'like' at the moment. Given some time and some nurturing, I'd say it could turn into love." "How do you feel about that, Scully?" I ask curiously. As a matter of fact, I've been rather amazed at how calmly she's taken this turn of events in her mother's life. "Well, to be honest, I'm not sure how I feel about it, but I had a rather serious revelation. It doesn't really matter a hill of beans what _I_ feel. Mom and the AD's relationship is no more my business than our relationship is Bill's. Right?" she asks with a disarmingly sense of rationality. I nod my head in agreement, but then look at her and say, "But, Scully, how do you feel about it? Because to be honest, I'm a little ambivalent. I mean I want Mom to be happy, and I know Skinner seems to make her feel happy. But, this is Mom," I say, and then add in a whispered exclamation, "_My_ Mom." Scully looks at me and then takes the bottle of sweet wine from my hands and sets it down on the table. She then reaches around my waist and I instinctively reach around hers and we draw each other as close as possible. "She'll always be there for us, Mulder. No matter what, she'll always be there. She loves us, you know." I pull away from her slightly so I can see her face. She smiles up at me and repeats, "She really does love us, Mulder. No matter what." "How do you know that?" I ask, smiling, because I already know what her answer will be. "Because she's our Mom, that's why." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ We pull up near the driveway and see there are two cars in it already. Walter Skinner and Charles Scully must already be inside, which leaves me feeling all at once delighted and a bit nervous. I know at some point during the evening, I will share my heritage with the Scullys and Skinner, and I'm not sure how everyone will react. As I walk to the door, I realize it's more than likely I'm making more out of this than necessary. Chances are, Scully will react merely by saying, 'Really? That's nice,' and move on from there. And I know of a wonderful piece of swampland I'd like to sell you too.... I sigh out loud, and Scully looks at me with that concerned, Doctor expression again. "What's wrong, Mulder? You off your feed tonight, or what?" "Maybe," I hedge. "C'mon, let's go inside," I say as I guide her toward the front door. We walk right in and call out to everyone. "In the kitchen!" rings out Mom's voice. We follow her voice and those of the others into the kitchen, and we see Mom's putting the finishing touches on the salad. "Hello, you two! We were just about to call out for the search team!" "Mom, it's exactly seven o'clock. Isn't that the time you told us to be here?" Scully asks. "Well, yes, but dear, you're usually early, aren't you?" she asks with a twinkle. Mom has Scully's number all right. Of course, then she looks right at me, and asks, "Is everything all right, Fox?" Good heavens, the woman has my number too, doesn't she? "Yes, Mom. Everything is fine," I say, and then hand her the bottle of Manischevitz. She takes it and thanks me, then orders everyone to get seated as our seder is now about to begin. Mom carries the opened bottle of sweet wine to the table along with another bottle that is probably more to everyone's liking. Actually, I have a confession to make. I like the sweet wine. I remember as a kid I used to snatch sips of the stuff at my Aunt Carol's house, when Mom wasn't looking. The stuff tastes like grape juice. Only drawback is it makes me feel sleepy as shit. I sit down and look at the large serving platter on the table. I see a familiar sight and smile slightly at an old, but very fond, memory. One of the symbols of Passover is a roasted egg. My grandmother actually hard boiled eggs, but would then place them under the broiler for a few minutes to brown them a bit. I remember Sam and I used to beg to be able to eat those eggs after they were talked about in the course of the seder. 'So, nu? You vant the eggies in the hanty, do you?' she would tease. That's what my grandmother called the hard boiled eggs, 'eggies in the hanty.' Sam and I would squeal, 'Yes! yes! please!' and she would give Sam one, but she always gave me two. She would always whisper to me, 'Fox, you're a growing boy. You need two to grow tall and strong.' I haven't thought of my grandmother in a very long time. I sometimes forget I actually have some happy memories from my childhood. I've really got to work on remembering more of them. I need to be able to share them with Scully, and someday, I hope at any rate, with our children. As we seat ourselves, I hear Mom say that in front of us is the seder plate which holds the symbols of Passover. She's given us each a couple of cards, each of which describes one of the symbols on the plate. "The bitter herbs, also known as the moror," begins Scully, "are a reminder to us all that slavery was a bitter time. Until Pharoh could be convinced to let the Jewish people go, slaves everywhere would continue to suffer." It is now my time to read. "The egg represents life. It represents the rebirth that occurs in the spring. But it also stands for the additional offerings that were made in the Temples on festivals." "The shankbone represents the sacrificial lamb, and all of the sacrifices the slaves of Egypt had to endure," offers Charlie. "Next are the greens, which represents the Spring," begins Skinner. "We are to take the greens and dip them in some salt water, for then we can remember the tears our ancestors shed while they were in bondage." I watch as Skinner pulls apart the parsley leaves, dips them into the salted water in the bowl nearby, and passes the salted parsley around to each of us. I smile as I remember Sam used to make a face whenever she had to eat the parsley and saltwater. 'But Fox,' she'd whined, 'it tickles my mouth!' I think I used to stick my tongue out at that point, and listen to my mother admonish us to behave at the table or we would eat in the kitchen. "And then there is the __," Mom began but stumbled over the word. "/K/arosset." "Charosset," I correct without thinking as I use the guttural /ch/ sound. "What?" Mom asks. "It's pronounced 'Charosset,' Mom," I reply softly. "Why thank you, Fox. I always mess that one up for some reason," Mom says. "It's not an easy word to say," I reply, again very softly. Suddenly I feel as though everyone's eyes are on me, yet I know it's probably only my imagination. "You said that like an expert, Mulder," I hear Charlie say. I look at him and see something in his eyes that I'd never observed before. I'm not sure what it is, but I know it doesn't make me feel comfortable. "Dana," Mom interrupts, "please go on and share about the matzoh." Scully nods and reads from the card, "The matzoh is a flattened bread which was eaten due to the haste with which the Jewish people were forced to flee Egypt. Since they didn't have time to wait for the yeast to rise, they ate these hard, flat boards of cracker." "Walter, would you please pour the wine?" Mom asks. I watch as Skinner reaches for the wine glasses and waits for everyone to indicate which of the wines they want him to pour. When he gets to mine, I indicate the sweet wine, to which he shakes his head ever so slightly. I decide to ignore him; my perceived insult from him isn't worth getting into an argument over. At which point, Mom recites the prayer over the wine, in English. "Blessed are thou, O Lord our God, King of the Universe, Who createst the fruit of the vine." As everyone is about to raise their glasses, I find myself uttering the same prayer out loud, in a tongue I haven't even realized I remembered. "Baruch ata Adonai, Elohaynu melech ha-olam, boray p'ree haggafen." The room is absolutely silent. Everyone's eyes are on me, and I suddenly feel sick to my stomach. I don't know why I feel embarrassed, but I do. I shouldn't feel embarrassed, but I do. I don't want to feel embarrassed, but I do. I fear I will throw up right there at the dinner table, if I don't leave right then and there. I stand up so quickly, I knock my chair over. Then, I run. I run for the nearest bathroom, because I know I am about to not only make a complete fool of myself, but I'm about to make a huge mess doing so. I hear voices calling out my name; Scully's voice and Mom's, even Skinner's calling out to me. The only voice I don't hear at the moment is Charlie's, and that saddens me for a second or two. But then I don' have time to worry about who is and who is not calling me. I'm too busy puking my guts up. I've somehow managed to close the door behind me, but it remains unlocked. I hear Scully calling my name from outside, but I can't catch my breath to answer her. I feel physically ill. I'm embarrassed and I feel guilty. The sad thing is, I'm not exactly sure what it is I'm feeling sad and guilty about. Is it because I'm embarrassed that the Scully's and Skinner have found out about my Judaism? Or is it more likely I feel guilty because I am indeed embarrassed they've found out. At least like this. I never meant to deny my religion, to deny who I was. But it's been so long since I'd thought of myself as a Jew. A couple of years back, when we had that case in New York City that involved the Golem, that had hit pretty close to home. But, I didn't reveal my inner fears to Scully. I didn't reveal to her how much I feared people I loved would reject me because of who I am. That case in Nevada when I was forced to drive that poor man around only to have him literally explode inside the car; he accused me of being 'one of them.' And though I didn't deny it, I couldn't bring myself to admit to it either. What kind of a person am I to be afraid to admit to who I am? And then I think of Charlie's expression. That look he had in his eyes, like he knows. He knows who and what I am, and it's not a good thing. And I don't understand why it's not. Yet I've felt that look penetrate me before. And though I've never consciously denied it, I've learned not to admit it outright either. I may not have carried the nickname forever, but I've been looked upon as something akin to 'Spooky' Mulder for as long as I can remember. I didn't exactly live in a Jewish ghetto growing up on the Vinyard, and so my religion was never made public by my parents. I learned why when I went to Oxford. I didn't exactly receive the welcome wagon treatment when some of my so-called mates made the discovery in the locker room. The only one who seemed to tolerate that discovery was Phoebe, and she simply used the knowledge to taunt me. So Charlie's expression is familiar to me; the fact that it is Charlie who has the doubts and fears is what hurts. I trust Charlie, or rather I thought I could trust him. But now? Now I throw up some more and I continue to dry heave until Scully finally stops calling my name and simply throws the door open. "Mulder, are you okay?" she asks breathlessly. Now, in my mind I'm thinking these wonderfully sarcastic remarks, like 'Sure, Scully! I'm just doing this new age cleansing routine, ya know?' or perhaps just a simple, 'Never felt better' in between the dry heaves. But of course, I don't have the strength to say anything at the moment. My hands are shaking as they hold on to the porcelain bowl for dear life, my head is throbbing and my stomach continues to feel as though it's going to come up through my mouth. I can't seem to catch my breath, and as a result, I'm feeling even more self-conscious which means taking a breath is even more difficult. I lower my head into the toilet and try to wish this night away. A cool but firm touch manages to find its way to my forehead. Scully is supporting my head now, and I can feel her wrap her other arm around my chest. She's trying to take care of me. I love her for this; I love her for trying. But all I really want to do right at the moment is find a hole to crawl into and never come out again. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ End of Part 1/2 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Barbecue Series 10: Eggies in the Hanty by Susan Proto (STPteach@aol.com) Disclaimers in Part 1 Part 2/2 "Mulder?" I hear her say my name so softly, it's almost like a caress. "Do you think you can sit up now?" I lean into her hands, and then manage to croak out a 'yes.' Next, I feel her support me as I lean back from my kneeling position and sit back against the vanity. Scully sits across from me and waits silently. Several minutes go by when I finally find my voice. "I'm so sorry." "What's going on, Mulder?" "I __, I didn't __." I hesitate. I'm not sure how to explain myself, because the more I think about it the more ridiculous it sounds even to me. "I didn't know how to tell you I'm Jewish." "Well, you might have tried, 'By the way, Scully, I'm Jewish,' or even a 'Scully, what do you think of celebrating Hanukkah this year too?' Either of those might have been just as effective as puking your guts up at Mom's Holy Thursday Seder," she says with a slight smile. I know she's not angry, but I feel so guilty. She's absolutely right. I had no right to do this to Mom and ruin her holiday dinner. I'm such a selfish bastard; sometimes I think Bill Scully called it right when he'd accused me of being a selfish sonofabitch. "I have to apologize to Mom and Skinner," I say forlornly. "And Charlie," I add with a little trepidation. "Mulder, you still haven't told me why. Why would you feel it necessary to hide your religion from me?" she asks. "No. I never hid it from you!" I respond adamantly. "Well, not intentionally," I add quietly. "C'mon, Mulder. Let's have this conversation out there so we only have to go through this once. I really think everyone deserves an explanation, don't you?" Scully asks gently. I know she doesn't want to antagonize me and make me feel like I want to run in the other direction, but she does and I do. "Scully, I really want to leave," I say without too much conviction. I know neither one of us will allow me to leave, but it is the way I feel. "Let's go, G-Man. You can do this, and try to remember these are all people who care about you, okay?" When I give her a slightly incredulous look, she confirms, "Yes, Mulder, even Skinner. When you consider how many times he's hauled your ass out of trouble, you can't possibly believe he doesn't care about you, right?" Of course, I see the truth in her words, but they don't seem to make the anxiety I feel in facing everyone go away. But I take the hand she now extends to me, and allow her to pull me up. I stand up, and watch her find the bottle of mouthwash and a paper cup. I rinse my mouth and then wash my face with some soap and water and dry off. I bury my face into the soft terry cloth towel and take a couple of deep breaths. I really am scared shitless at the moment. I replace the towel back on its rack as carefully as I've ever done in my entire life. When it comes to procrastinating, I've developed it to a new art form. If I don't want to face something, I can amaze even myself with my avoidance techniques. However, I'm at a slight disadvantage in that Scully is at my side at the moment, and knows everyone of my little tricks. She finally grabs the towel from me, pushes it in place and practically pushes me out of the bathroom. She leads me into the family room, and I see everyone has congregated in here already. As I sit down next to Scully on the love seat, I look from one person to the next to try and get a feel for everyone's reactions toward the whole situation. I know I find a sympathetic eye in Mom, and I think Skinner is leaning toward forgiveness as well. The only one I can't gauge is Charlie. I just can't seem to get a handle on his reaction. It may be because he's yet to make eye contact with me while the others have. Damn it. I never meant for this to happen. I don't know what to say to make this right again. I don't know if it will ever be right again, at least between Charlie and me. "Fox?" Mom is calling me and I turn to meet her gaze. Unbelievable. All I see in this woman's eyes is love. Where has this dear person been all my life? Lord knows, I don't want to ever lose her. "Can you tell us what's bothering you?" What's bothering me? I wish I could tell her. I wish I could figure it out totally for myself. But I owe her an explanation. I owe her big time, so I try to explain. "I feel as though I've been lying to you in a way." "Lying? How, Sweetheart?" she asks so tenderly. "I never told you." I take a deep breath, as I can anticipate what she'll say next. "Told us what, Fox?" "I'm not a Catholic, Mom." I see Maggie Scully's face break into this enormous smile. "Oh, Fox, I pretty much figured that out a while ago." "You did?" I know I look like a wide eyed ten year old, but that's the way I feel at this moment. "I don't understand." "Well, that's not to say I knew exactly which religion you were born to, dear, but I knew it wasn't Catholicism. If you were raised a Catholic, you would have been more aware of some of our traditions." She pauses for a second, and then says, "I think it would be lovely if you learned more of our traditions, Fox. Do you think you might like to do that?" "Mom," I rasp uneasily, "I __, I don't think I want to convert." "No, Dear, I should think you wouldn't want to do that, not until you become more comfortable with the Judaism you were born to. You would need to know what you were converting from before you could take the step to convert to something else, don't you think?" All I can do is nod my head in agreement at this point. "No, Fox, I'm not suggesting for you to become Catholic. I think it might be helpful for you to simply learn more about it, and perhaps this will help you learn more about yourself as well." I nod again at this woman's wisdom and then turn to catch Charlie's eye. His expression is not nearly as understanding as his mother's is. "Charlie?" I croak out. I need to connect with this man again, and I'm not sure how to go about it. I don't know exactly what he feels about me, and to be honest, I'm just a little more than afraid to find out. But I press on anyway. "Charlie, say something." "What's there to say?" he says tonelessly. "Charlie, I've come to respect you and appreciate our friendship. I sense you have a change of heart, and I need to know if that's true and, if so, why?" Charlie shifts a little in the chair and looks down. I feel Scully shift a bit next to me and then hear her say, "Charlie, what the hell is your problem?" That's my little sailor, always cutting to the chase. "I don't have the problem, Dana." "Are you insinuating someone does, Charlie?" "Yes! No! Well, maybe. Oh, jeeze, Dana, I don't know what the hell I mean." He turns to finally look me in the eye. "Mulder, I'm sorry, I don't mean to feel this way, it's just that, well, oh damn it! You weren't supposed to be __, I mean, if you were Catholic, there wouldn't be a problem, you know?" "Charles?" Mom interrupts and asks, "What are you trying to say?" "Mom, if Mulder's not Catholic, then how can they get married? She'll be excommunicated, won't she? You've worked so hard to bring her back to the church, and now you're willing to let her throw it away for a ___." I'm not sure who gasps louder at this moment, Charlie or the rest of us. Charlie looks at me and then at Scully. Finally he turns his eyes to Mom and Skinner and I can tell the poor guy is absolutely horrified. I honestly think Charlie cannot believe what he was about to say. "Charles Brian Scully, how dare you bring that kind of thinking into this house!" cries out Mom. "Oh, Mom, I'm sorry. I am so sorry." "I don't believe it's me that's owed the apology, Charles," she admonishes sternly. Charlie tries to look at me, but he can't, so I decide it's my turn to pick up the gauntlet. "Charlie, it's okay." "Mulder, it is not okay," retorts Scully. "Shh, Scully, let me finish, okay?" I see her nod her assent, and I continue. "Charlie, it really is okay, because I guess I've felt the same way at one time or another, but I don't think either one of us means it. "There was a time in my life when I and my family celebrated our religion, our heritage, but after my sister was taken from us, our family disintegrated, and one of the things that disappeared was our faith. "I lost that aspect of me, Charlie. I hid my Judaism as if it was something to be ashamed of because my parents decided we needed to change in order to deal with the missing piece in our lives. Where we'd lived, there were no other Jews. It was easy to pretend I was something I was not, because I had no one to compare myself to. "But Charlie, even though I stopped practicing being a Jew, I never stopped being a Jew. I don't think I could even if I wanted to, though to be honest, I'm not sure what I want to do. Mom's right. I can't reject something if I'm ignorant of what I'm rejecting. "I don't want to take the church away from your sister, Charlie, certainly not if it's something she wants in her life. You're right. It took her a long time to find her way back to it; God, it took her almost dying to find her way back to it," I groan as if in pain. I suppose thinking back to that time does cause me pain. "I think, Dana," I say as I now turn to her, "that's one of the reasons I never brought up the subject. I'm afraid you'll feel you have to chose between me and the church, and I don't want to place that burden on you. Besides, I'm so afraid of what your choice would be." I stop for a moment to catch my breath. "Mulder," Scully says, "You have to understand something. I don't _have_ to chose between you and my faith. I know I can be a good Catholic, and still love you and be with you. It's not an either or situation, guys. I can have my faith and my Mulder, too." She grins at that, and I find myself with the beginnings of a smile forming on my face as well. "I appreciate your concern," she continues, "but you don't need to worry whether I can be Catholic and still be in a relationship with you. I am what I am, unless I chose otherwise. Mulder, you are what you are, unless you chose otherwise as well. You don't need to burden yourself with the idea we must travel the same path. We don't, Mulder. We can find our own paths to God and faith; all you need to know is I'll support you however you choose to seek it. "Get this through your head, G-Man. I love you. I'm not going anywhere. Catholic, Jewish, or Reticulan, I'm not going anywhere," she affirms. She then turns to Charlie and says, "And you little brother, I appreciate your desire to look out for my best interests but honestly, I think I'm the one best capable of doing that." Charlie looks directly at Dana and agrees immediately. "You're right, of course. Dana I'm sorry, and Mulder, I really am sorry. I have no right to judge anyone. I didn't mean to __. My mouth just got way ahead of my brain. I do value our friendship, Mulder. Really. Oh God, Mulder, please, can you forgive me?" I feel as if a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. I lean over and extend my hand towards Charlie and thankfully, he grasps it in his own. I appreciate this man's devotion to his sister, and if anyone can understand a need to protect a sister's best interests, it's me. "Well, now," Mom says with a radiant smile, "I don't know about you, but I'm really quite famished, and we still have a seder to complete. Would you all care to join me in the dining room?" We all nod in agreement and stand up to walk into the dining room. Scully scoots ahead so she can help Mom get the things she'd put back in the fridge or in the oven back to where they belong. Charlie follows and then I go. Skinner is behind me, when I feel him tug a bit on my arm. I turn and look at him quizzically. "Are you okay now? I mean, really, okay?" Skinner asks with real concern. I feel touched by this show of compassion, and I shrug my shoulders. "I guess for now I am. I still have some decisions to make, but at least now I know I can make an informed decision." "It's not always easy being a member of 'the tribe', is it?" he says with almost a conspiratorial grin. I confess I'm a little confused by his remark until it dawns on me exactly what he's saying. "You?" "Mulder, my surname is Skinner, but the 'maiden' name is Malyshev. My mother's mother was born in Russia, and had to hide her religious beliefs. It wasn't until she came to America and gave birth to my mother that she felt safe to practice Judaism. The first time she was ever in a temple was for the naming ceremony for my mother. For crying out loud, Mulder, where the hell do you think I'd get a middle name like Sergei, anyway?" he chuckles out loud. Skinner chuckling? With me? Well, now this is a side of him I certainly didn't know existed. And he's Jewish. Go figure. Maybe__. I think about the possibilities for a moment and then I ask aloud, " Sir? If there ever comes a time when I need to find out about __, well, you know, if I have a question about anything___." I stop. Suddenly I feel like a blithering idiot, but I guess the boss picks up on this pretty quickly. "Mulder, I'm not an expert on Judaism. I don't practice, I don't go to Temple, but yes, if you ever want to just talk and get another view, my door is always open to you. Okay?" "Thanks," I say, and then I feel compelled to ask one more question. "Sir?" He looks at me sternly, and I realize that's at least the second time I've called him 'Sir' when he'd asked Scully and I call him Walter during our off time. "Sorry," I apologize, "Walter, may I ask you one more question?" "The answer is 'yes', Mulder. Maggie knows I'm Jewish. I'm not sure when it came up, or how it came up, but suffice it to say she learned I was Jewish rather early in the relationship. "Now, if you ask me if Charlie or Bill knows, I'd have to say, I doubt it." "I don't think you'll need to worry about it, Sir_, I mean Walter. Mom seems to be pretty good at convincing her children she's perfectly capable of making her own decisions," I say with a hint of irony. "I suspect you're right, Mulder. Oh, by the way, Good Pesach." "Thanks, Walter. Happy Passover to you too. But now, I think I need to learn about some new traditions. How about you?" I ask lightly. "Lead the way, Mulder. Just lead the way." And I feel as if, now, I can. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ End of Part 2/2