From: macspooky@erols.com (Macspooky) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: Gener/Inlaw(11)/Macspooky/Juliettt Date: 4 Oct 1995 09:23:04 -0400 Chapter 11 "Mother-In-Law" All disclaimers still apply. After the confrontation with her daughter-in-law, Ruth Mulder drove home with hands that she could barely keep steady at the wheel. When she arrived, she left the car in front of the house and went into the den to sit before the fire. She was feeling terribly cold. Glancing out the window, she saw that it had started to rain again. She thought idly that it was April showers that were supposed to bring May flowers, but it was only March. It was better than snow, she supposed. She shivered. Her mind wouldn't quite focus for several minutes. Graciously, she thanked Pearl, who seeing her distress, brought her a pot of hot tea, Pearl, who had always had a hug for her little boy when she had come to clean the house and help cook for the dinner parties she and Bill had frequently thrown. Pearl had always seemed to understand Fox. She remembered the way the boy's eyes had lit up when he had seen her. Even as a baby, he had waved his little arms in delight and couldn't wait until Pearl had taken him and fussed over him. Ruth thought idly that the dismal weather was perfect for what had been happening in her life, her neighbor being a child murderer, her daughters nearly getting killed, her son lying in a hospital. What a fool she felt like for inviting Fox to that dinner party as a partner for Irene, when all along he had had a wife at the Captain's Inn. Had she become such a basket case that no one had had the nerve to tell her the truth? Was she such a weak woman that she couldn't handle the truth? She sat before the fire in her elegant mansion letting her mind drift over the past and present. Finally, it focused on the past, on her little boy, her first baby. Ruth shuddered remembering how afraid she had been of that birth, of Bill, of his reaction when he had discovered he had a son. It had all been so different with Samantha. Bill had been so happy, had doted on her after the birth, doted on her and their baby girl. He had spent time with Samantha, and he had never hit her, ever. Bill had told her more than once that it was necessary to discipline Fox strictly, to make a man out of him. His father had done the same for him. Samantha was different. She was such a sweet little thing, not difficult like Fox, and not a boy. Samantha had been calmer, much more placid even as an infant. She slept at night, and would sit and play with her toys, chattering to herself endlessly, not like her brother, who rarely slept and was always asking questions. Ruth had seldom known how to answer his questions. Somehow, the boy had made her feel inadequate, and it had seemed as though he had never listened. Fox just couldn't seem to sit still or obey his father, even though he knew he would get hit if he didn't. She had always been on edge raising him. She had always been waiting for the next disobedience, the next spanking. Always. Of course, it wasn't until she had divorced Bill and married Ed that she had even begun to realize that fear of your husband should not even be a small part of the marital equation. By then, her son was gone. Ruth sipped her tea, and her mind wandered to the present, to the fight in the hospital that morning. Even as she felt angry at Dana, she found herself acknowledging the fundamental truth of the younger woman's words. She had never been a good mother to her little boy, had never understood him, and after Bill had beat him so badly, she had fallen apart and had never been the same. Not once had she fought for him, her only son. The best she had managed was to divorce Bill, and even that had been done with reluctance. She had been afraid to be alone. She had married Ed not long afterwards because she had wanted someone to take care of her. Eventually, they had had the twin girls. They had been very lucky, had had a good marriage. Perhaps it was more than she had deserved. Ed liked Fox. He would have taken the boy back into the house, but Ruth had been reluctant. He had been doing so well with his aunt, and she hadn't felt that she could deal with him again. It had never even occurred to her that Fox might view this as a rejection of him, that it might cause him to blame himself even more for Samantha. She hadn't thought she could go through watching the discipline the boy required. She had had no idea that Ed never would have done the same things Bill had done, ever. As she stared into the fire, she came to realize that she had always been protected from having to deal with life. There had been housekeepers and money, even when she had been married to Bill. The girls had had nurses and later a nanny. Ed had seen to it that nothing bad ever happened to her after she came out of the hospital. He loved her very much in a way that Bill hadn't. Ed was a warm and generous man, sometimes too much so. She had come to love him, not in the same way she had adored Bill, but in a quiet gentle way. She loved her girls too, more than life it seemed sometimes, and yet not enough to know what they were really doing or to understand the reasons why. They had grown into young womanhood, and somehow she had missed it. She had still thought they were little girls. It had caused their rebellion, not a typical rebellion perhaps, but a rebellion that could have cost them their lives. They were, she realized, a lot like their older brother in many ways. As her mind wandered back to the scene in the hospital again, it occurred to her that she had not had to think of anyone other than herself in any but the most superficial way in a long, long time. Oh, it was true she raised a lot of money for poor children. Many little ones had received medical care as a result of her volunteer work, but she had never had to touch the children, to feel the pain of the mothers seeing their sick children and having no money for doctors. She hadn't had to touch them, just as she had not touched Fox when he had lain in the hospital, a battered frightened 12 year old boy. She, Ruth, had attended luncheons, written letters, thrown dinner parties, and worked on the consciences of potential donors, but in the years since Sam had been taken from her, she had never once examined her own. She had shut her son away, relieved that he had gone to live with his Aunt Sophia, Bill's rebellious eccentric sister, who had told the Mulder family exactly where they could go, and had made herself wealthy with some sort of computerized fortune telling business. It had been so pleasant to brag about her son at Oxford, about how he had won a full scholarship, about how he dated a woman of the upper classes, without ever having to find out what he really had been doing or feeling. It had been pleasant, and she'd gotten involved with her baby girls, hugging them and playing with them and leaving the dirty work to the nanny. It had been too easy not to think about Fox. Her current spate of honesty demanded the acknowledgement that a part of her had always blamed her son for what had happened to Samantha, because that too had been easier than blaming herself for going off and leaving a 12 year old boy in charge. Pearl came in and interrupted her thoughts. "Are you alright, Mrs. Tillot?" she asked concerned. Ruth had been staring at the fire for hours. The elderly woman hoped her long time employer was not going to experience another breakdown. Although Mr. Tillot had tried to underplay it, the girls had apparently really been in grave danger. In the past, Ruth Tillot had not dealt well with stress of that nature. "Oh, yes, Pearl. Thank you." Ruth looked at her watch. She realized that she had completely lost track of time. She roused herself from the chair and went to the phone. Ruth had left therapy when the sessions had become too difficult, had hit too close to home. She hesitated for a brief moment and then picked up the phone. She called information and got the number she wanted. She dialed it before she could change her mind. The therapist she had seen before had retired, but his daughter had taken over the practice. Ruth made an appointment She was in deep turmoil. She didn't know how she was going to handle her problems, but the fiery tempered redhead, with her talk of her little brother being hit by a drunk driver, had touched something inside her. Ruth knew that somehow, she had to try. Her feelings about the young woman were ambivalent at best, even now. Her daughter-in-law scared her more than a little. No one had ever talked to her the way Dana Scully had, not even Bill. Standing there, however, watching the young woman weep, listening to her words as she had talked to her comatose husband, had convinced Ruth of one thing, however. Dana Scully loved her strange enigmatic son very much in way that no one else probably ever had, including herself. She had, she realized, truly become a sorry excuse for a parent. "Pearl," called Mrs. Tillot, "I have to go back out again. Will you tell Mr. Tillot I probably won't be home for dinner." "Yes, Mrs. Tillot," replied the woman. At that moment the girls came in. They had gone back to school that day, and she could see that they were flushed with excitement. Undoubtedly, they had spent the day telling everyone the details of their hair raising ordeal. Ruth smiled at them and gave them both a big hug. "I have to go out for awhile girls," she said. "When can we see Fox, mom?" "I'll check at the hospital. Maybe tonight. Okay girls?" They looked at each other as their mother left. Somehow, something seemed different about her. She seemed to have had a purpose, and the hug had been very unusual for an after school hello. =========================================================================== From: macspooky@erols.com (Macspooky) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: Gener/Inlaw(12)/Macspooky/Juliettt Date: 4 Oct 1995 09:23:14 -0400 Chapter 12 Ruth crept slowly up to the door of the hospital room ready to flee if she saw Dana. She wasn't certain she had enough courage yet to face the younger woman again. She wanted to talk to Fox first if he was awake. Dana wasn't there however. Another woman was. She was older, about the same age as Ruth, with hair that had once been jet black, but now had a bit of gray in it. She also had a lovely profile, strong. She was holding Fox's hand while he slept. Fox opened his eyes, and when his face lit upon the woman, he smiled, a beautiful smile of delight. "Oh, hi, mom," he said. "I didn't think you'd still be here." "I know. You expected your wife. I promised my workaholic daughter I'd sit with you while she went to catch up on things." "She promised she would rest," he muttered. "Well, perhaps she'll do that too. We can hope." Meg smiled at him. "Oh, mom, I guess she told you what a coward I was. I couldn't even...my mother hates her, and I couldn't even tell her we were married, and I took my wedding ring off....I hurt your daughter so much..." "You, a coward, Fox?" Margaret smiled, "I hardly think that likely." Dana had told her a great deal of course, but Margaret never doubted his courage, his judgement perhaps, but not his spirit and mettle. "Her husband and I were afraid my mom would have another breakdown. Of course, she found out, and they had a big fight. I don't know how to make it right," he burst out rushing his words, slurring them in his haste to unburden himself. "The worst of it is that Dana forgave me, and I didn't deserve it." He hoped he was being coherent. The pain killers made him hazy. He felt as though he were rambling, not making any sense. In retrospect, the entire incident didn't make much sense. "My daughter loves you, Fox Mulder," said Margaret squeezing his hand. Fox was still very sick and still caught between a rock and a hard place. It was obvious that he couldn't think straight from the wounds and the medication. He needed some words of wisdom. The trouble was that, other than seeking out Mrs. Tillot and confronting her, Meg too was at something of a loss about what to do to help. "I don't deserve her." "Now that's silly. She can be a handful too, as I'm sure you well know." Margaret winked at her son-in-law. She had always known that Dana and Fox had a special love, an exceptional love, but that their life together wasn't always going to be easy. "Don't worry. It will all come right in the end. It always does. Remember something, Fox, part of the reason why you hurt each other so much is because you love each other so intensely. You are both stubborn," she smiled repeating for him what she had said to Dana earlier. "The most important thing now is for you to get well. You two have a baby to make. Gran is in Ireland waiting." She could see he was already drifting back to sleep. She smoothed his damp hair off his forehead. "I'll try, mom," he sleepily. "But not tonight. I have a headache." "I'll go and let you rest, Fox," said Margaret with a smile. Sick or not, at least his dry and unusual wit seemed to be intact. "You need all the sleep you can get." "Thanks, mom," he murmured drowsily and dozed off again. He felt a little more peaceful. He had been afraid that when Margaret heard what he had done, she would stop loving him, and he hadn't wanted that to happen. He was all too cognizant of the fact that it was Margaret who really loved him the way a mother was supposed to and not his own. Ruth fled in the direction of the lobby ahead of Mrs. Scully. It had really hurt to hear her son call the other woman mom, and the way he had smiled at her when he had seen her hadn't eased the pain. .She recalled Dana's words, "You never even returned my calls when he was dying in Alaska. My mom took care of him when he came home...." Ruth supposed she had only herself to blame. She hadn't wanted to talk to Dana Scully, so she hadn't contacted her son. She hadn't been able to see past her own anger. When Ruth saw Margaret enter the lobby, she was struck by the woman's beauty and dignity. If she had been poor once, it didn't show now. She was well dressed and had an expensive diamond solitaire on her finger. Her face was lovely, thought Ruth, with the same blue eyes as her red haired daughter. thought the woman. She had been taught that the Irish were trash. Bill hadn't liked them, had detested even the Kennedys. Ruth had accepted his opinion, just as she had all his opinions. She had always assumed Mrs. Dennehy, a sweet person, was the exception. She hadn't thought much about the other nice people she had known with Irish last names. She hadn't thought. Now, she suddenly wondered about this, just as she had begun to wonder about so much recently. Ruth made a hasty decision. She stepped up to the woman. "Excuse me," she said trying not to sound flustered, "but I believe you would be Mrs. Scully." "Yes," she replied looking at the other woman. Margaret knew immediately that she was looking at Fox's mother. They had the same beautiful eyes. The woman was lovely, impeccable in a way that screamed of old money. "I'm Ruth Mulder Tillot. I know I have no right to ask, but I was wondering, could you... I..need to talk with you. Could you go to dinner with me?" "Of course, Mrs. Tillot," replied Margaret, relieved that the woman had sought her out. "I'm looking forward to getting to know you better. I've never been to Martha's Vineyard. You'll have to lead the way." It didn't surprise her at all when Mrs. Tillot took her to a very exclusive country club on the water front. It was growing dark, but Meg imagined that during the day, the view was probably lovely. The little she had seen of Martha's Vineyard was beautiful. Her mind turned ever so briefly to honeymooning. It didn't surprise her in the least either when the woman asked for and got one of the best tables, even though the club was very busy. Once upon a time, in her poor days, her days of second hand clothes and a baby every year, she might have been intimidated by her surroundings and by Mrs. Tillot. Meg had since faced down admiral's wives, however. Eventually, their financial situation had eased, and she had become an admiral's wife herself. Bill had left her comfortably well off, and raising three sons, Meg had learned never, ever to let herself be intimidated, even when surrounded by males who were two feet taller than her in the midst of temper tantrums induced by raging hormones. Her boys had all been 6 feet tall by the time they had been 13. Not a lot scared her. Then too, of course, she had become engaged to the Assistant Director of the FBI, a formidable individual who could easily dominate you if you didn't handle him properly. That thought made her smile to herself. The two women made small talk briefly and ordered a carafe of white wine and a sea food dinner. Then Ruth got to her reason for the invitation. "I...saw you with my son...at the hospital. I didn't want to intrude." "It wouldn't have been an intrusion, Mrs. Tillot. He is your son." Margaret looked at her. "He calls you mom...that hurts....but I'm trying....I think I understand..." She was silent for a long moment. "Why don't you call me Meg?" said Margaret gently following the adage about catching more flies with honey than with vinegar. She might have liked to have told this woman exactly what she thought of her as a parent, but it wouldn't help. It would only make things more difficult for her daughter and Fox. This woman seemed rather childlike and awkward, for all her obvious wealth. "Thank you. I'm Ruth." Ruth swallowed. It was time to take the plunge. "I hated your daughter, Meg. I really hated her. When my son told me he had traded Samantha for her.... I thought...I thought that she must have done something to him to make him do that. I thought maybe she seduced him or...I don't know what I thought..." "Maybe you didn't think, Ruth," said Margaret quietly. "Perhaps you just let your emotions take over. Of course, it wasn't really your daughter, but perhaps you couldn't face that." "They have always protected me, always...my husbands, especially Ed. I'm sorry, I'm not being coherent, but I hated her so much they were afraid to tell me that Fox had married her. When I found out, I called her awful names...there in the hospital. She has a fiery temper, that daughter of yours." "At times," replied Meg. "She doesn't lose it often, but when she does, she is a formidable young lady. Takes after her dad." Meg smiled a little at the thought. "She told me about your little boy, Brendan, about how she killed him and...." "My daughter did not kill him, Ruth." said Margaret adamantly. "He was hit by a drunk driver. I went into the house and left him in her care for a moment. She was too young, and he too quick. If there was any blame, it was on my shoulders. It took me a long time to come to grips with it, believe me." Ruth nodded in acknowledgement. "It....it made me think....about what a poor mother I'd become to Fox.....At first, when she told me that I didn't have to worry about her because Fox had told her he wanted a divorce, I was glad..." Ruth stopped. She needed to compose herself. She felt tears coming and didn't wish to cry in front of a strong woman like Margaret Scully. Margaret waited patiently, hiding her astonishment. It was another little detail Dana had failed to mention. Obviously, there had been some misunderstanding, but things must have gotten really bad between the two of them before they worked it out. Fox could not have been serious about a divorce. If he had said it, it must have been in the heat of battle. "But then, I stood in the doorway and watched her crying. She seems to love him so much. I mean, she was devastated when she thought he might die. It's like...well, I remember feeling that way about Bill once, a long time ago...Fox's dad..." "They do love each other, Ruth," said Margaret softly, "very much. It's an exceptional love. It has never been easy for either of them, but they have hung in there in spite of everything, first as partners, then friends and then husband and wife." Margaret stopped for a moment and organized her thoughts. It still wasn't easy for her to talk about the time Dana had been in the hospital. She knew she had been too hasty in writing her daughter off as dead. There was guilt associated with that time as well as with Brendan. "Your son is very special. When my daughter was ill and dying, before they got married, he stuck with her until the bitter end. He was there for her long after we had given up hope. I had just lost my husband, and he was a rock for me." "I...I want to try to make things right...I mean I don't know if I can....but I'm afraid she will....I don't know if I can...I don't want to be the cause of their divorce." "Scared she'll snap your head off?" smiled Margaret. She patted the woman's hand. "I'll tell you something about my daughter. She feels just as badly about losing her self control as you do, perhaps worse. Go to the hospital tonight. Visit with your son. Dana will try her best to be civil. I can't say that you'll become best of friends over night. She's been badly hurt. I think it might be possible to start the healing process though, and there isn't going to be a divorce. It was a misunderstanding." "Do you really think so?" asked the woman looking for assurance. "You seem so strong. I don't know...I can't always seem to....cope..." Margaret found herself feeling a little sorry for Ruth. Obviously, her money really had been protecting her all her life. If she knew Dana, her daughter had talked to the woman in a way that she had never been spoken to before. Dana was, after all, Mary Elizabeth McBride's granddaughter, and when she finally spoke her mind, she didn't mince words. "I really think so. I think that my daughter is prepared to love you if you will let her, and I don't believe anything could ever separate those two for very long." Their meal came, and Margaret, an expert on making small talk to wives at the officer's club, lead the conversation away from Fox and Dana and on to other more neutral subjects. She was wise enough to know that it wasn't a good idea to interfere too much in her daughter's life. Dana and Ruth would have to work it out as best they could. Somehow, she thought they would. Dana had gotten some work done and even managed a shower and a nap. She left her mom at the Captain's Inn to relax and enjoy the atmosphere and was feeling much better when she arrived back at the hospital. Fox lay resting peacefully. She bent down and kissed his forehead. He opened his eyes and smiled at her, and then started to laugh. It died in his throat because it hurt so much, but she filled him with delight. In her hands were two huge Mylar balloons, one in the shape of a flying saucer and the other Marvin the Martian. She tied them to the chair so that he could look at them. "Oh, wow," he smiled, "cool..." "I thought you saved *cool* for marriage proposals," she smiled back sitting beside him taking his hand. She could see that her gift had delighted the little boy in him. He wore a similar expression to the one he had worn that day at Bunch Gardens as he had been manically running from ride to ride with his nephews. She hadn't understood it then, not really. It had annoyed her. Now she felt that she did. She was grateful for her mother's words of wisdom. "Oh, yeah, that stupid proposal. I'm sorry, Dana. It was...." "It was the most wonderful proposal in the world, even if you were kidding when you made it," she smiled smoothing his hair. "I expected to shock the hell out of you when I said yes." "You did, Scully, you did. You shocked me, and you made my heart...you made me so happy in that moment, happier than I thought I could ever be." Fox tried to smile. His eidetic memory was rather fuzzy from too much codeine or whatever pain killers they were giving him. "I called Mrs. Anderson and Krycek is fine," said Dana. "She thinks he misses you." "Aw...well, you know...two bird brains...." he grinned. Dana realized that the stupid bird also satisfied something of the child in him. She promised herself that she would try to get to like it. At that moment there was a commotion in the hall. Four people tramped into the room, Ed Tillot, Jennie, Amy and Ruth. Dana sat very still. Fox's hand tightened on hers briefly. The girls were like a whirlwind though. They too had brought balloons and popped themselves on the bed. One balloon was of Casper the Ghost. "We thought you would like this because your nickname is Spooky," said Jennie giving him a peck on the cheek. He glared at her. He wanted to wring their necks. He was furious with them for the trouble they had gotten themselves into with their snooping, but he couldn't be really mad. They were too cute. "Thank you, Jennie." He swallowed. He was touched. Then Amy presented him with another of the space shuttle. "When I'm feeling better, girls, you are going to get the lecture of your lives," he promised them. "They've already had one," Ed informed him, "but feel free to do it again." "We didn't mean for you to get shot." Both the girls looked pitiful. Dana found herself smiling a little. There was a distinct similarity between their expression and Fox's best little boy look. "You couldn't have known, couldn't have guessed..." he swallowed. He didn't like to think about what had nearly happened, "Hello, mom. Hello, Ed." "Fox," they acknowledged. "This is Dana, my wife." He closed his eyes. "I..." "Mr. Tillot," said Dana quietly, "Mrs. Tillot...Jenny, Amy..." She managed a smile for the girls. "You will get a lecture from me too. It wasn't very nice going through my underwear draw." "That was Jennie.. She was looking for condoms." "No way. It was Amy..." "Okay, girls, that's enough," laughed Dana. The parents looked totally shocked. They apparently had no idea the girls even knew what a condom was. "Hello, Dana," said Ruth softly, "I...I want....I hope...when you get a chance...maybe when Fox gets out of the hospital...you'll stay with us a few days...I want...I want you to tell me about the woman who was pretending to be my daughter...I need to know..." Dana looked at the woman for a long moment. She still felt angry, but the woman seemed to be trying to reach out to her. For Fox's sake, she would go along with it, at least for the moment. "Oh, please come," burst out the girls. "It would be fun to have an older sister!" "I'll do whatever my husband wants," she said quietly. "And, yes, Ruth, it would be good to talk to you about what happened." Dana knew of course that she couldn't discuss everything, but she could tell the woman enough to at least make her aware of reality and of what her only son had endured, of what it had cost him to make the decision that he had. She left it like that, not saying anymore. The visit didn't last long. Fox grew restive, in need of a pain killer, although he didn't complain athlete. Dana administered it herself, refusing to listen to any argument. His mom kissed him briefly before he drifted off to sleep, and they left. It hadn't been a total reconciliation, but it had been a start, a good start. =========================================================================== From: macspooky@erols.com (Macspooky) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: Gener/Inlaw(13)/Macspooky/Juliettt Date: 4 Oct 1995 09:23:16 -0400 Chapter 13 "Mother-In-Law" All disclaimers still apply. Dana pulled up in front of the Tillot home and gaped. She should have known when she had driven through the lovely wrought iron gates attached to the high, lacy stone walls that she was not going to see just another Cape Cod style house. It was more like a mansion. Even in the dismal weather, you could tell that when the gardens started to bloom, the grounds were going to be stunning. One could see the ocean at this time of year through the bare trees. Dana was in awe. She was accustomed to her own apartment, or her mother's comfortable child centered home. She and Fox had never even approached the lifestyle that his money permitted them. The most extravagent thing they had done was to buy expensive Christmas gifts for her nieces and nephews and $200 worth of mostly purple underwear that Fox seemed enjoy tearing off of her in the throes of his considerable passion. Well, there had been Krycek. Fox had bought Krycek. He had been expensive, as well as nasty. Mrs. Anderson was an expert exotic bird breeder, and her parrots commanded high prices. Dana didn't want to think about Krycek, however. She opened the passanger side door and helped her husband out. He was having difficulty adjusting to having his right arm in a cast, or at least that was what he claimed, but the gunshot wounds were healing nicely, although he still walked with a pronounced limp and had some soreness in his side. He was very weak, however, and hadn't been eating much. His body had been through too much lately. "Don't worry about the car," he told her. "The gardener will take it around back." "Right, wouldn't want the old Honda trashing up the front yard or anything." Dana laughed outloud. He was glad to hear that sound. He had wondered recently if he ever would again. She and Fox had talked about trading in her old 1989 Honda Accord, but had never gotten around to it. It was "old reliable" after all, and Dana could remember struggling to make the payments on it, as well as rent on her apartment and student loans. It had sentimental value. This house, however, was more like Lexus country. "Now I understand why my mom told me I better not ever forget how to scrub a toilet before she went home," chuckled Dana. Margaret had given this sage command upon returning from lunch with Ruth Tillot the day before, but Dana hadn't questioned her then. Nor had she understood, until now. They entered a large foyer hung with a beautiful brass and glass chandalier, and Fox was soon set upon by Pearl and his sisters. Finally, Ruth hugged her son briefly and a little shyly. She said hello to Dana. "I'll show you both to the blue guest room," she told them. "I think you will be comfortable. I decorated it myself. Jake has already brought in the bags, I'm sure." "Thank you," said Dana softly. Ruth told her that is wasn't the biggest guest room, but the only one on the main floor. She thought that it would be best for Fox with his leg injury. In fact, Ruth was surprised and more than a little worried about how weak her only son looked. It truly was a lovely room, with a white wrought iron canopy bed, and two comfortable wing chairs flanking a working fireplace, comfortable foot rests and a small table where one could set a tea tray. French doors opened onto a small sunroom that would allow visitors to enjoy the rear garden and had a panoramic view of the ocean. Ruth was, she realized, a very talented decorator. She praised the woman effusively. Ruth seemed truly gratified that her talents were appreciated. One could leave the sunroom and walk to the beach. Ruth left them to get settled. They went into the bathroom, which was truly magnificent. It had a stall shower, a fabulous sunken tub that doubled as a jacuzzi, and even a bidet, something Dana thought dryly that she had little use for with her handsome husband in his current condition. Fox pretended he couldn't undo his fly. "Worse than a three year old," smiled Dana doing it for him, giving him an unecessary rub in the process. "I'm going to the store as soon as I can and buying you sweat pants, maybe even bright pink sweat pants, for the duration." "I'd rather have you unbutton my fly," he grinned. As he emptied his bladder, he eyed the bidet and told his wife that only his mother would put a water fountain in the bathroom Dana rolled her eyes. It was Mulder humor at its worst, but she loved it. "Watch where you're aiming," she replied ascerbically. Dana thought about how much she would like to soak in that tub with her husband and wishing that he could. It had definite potential for some very interesting activities. She sighed. He was in no condition, she realized sadly. Could he maybe...no...the poor man was so very weak. Not necessarily in the tub...no, no way, no where. Dana, get a grip on yourself.... With a sigh, she helped him change and climb into the comfortable bed. He was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow. She bent down and kissed his forehead. "Three months and then some to make up for, and you go and get yourself shot," she said fondly to his sleeping figure. "What am I going to do with you, Fox Mulder? I guess not much, not for awhile." She tucked the sheet around him a little more tightly and headed out to the main part of the house, at odds as to what to do with herself next. She ran into Ruth almost literally. The woman seemed to have just hung up a very elegant telephone. "The girls just went to a friend's house to do some homework. It will keep them from pestering their hero and heroine." she explained with a slight smile. "Come sit by the fire and have tea with me." "That would be nice," replied Dana, although she wasn't entirely certain how she felt about it. Pearl brought tea on a tray served in a Wedgewood pot. Ruth poured with an expertise born of long practice. She held out a plate of scones. Dana had forgotten how hungry she was. "Thank you," she said politely. "You're welcome. Is Fox settled in?" "He fell asleep almost immediately. He needs a lot of rest," Dana sighed, "He has been through so much...." "I want you to tell me all about it," Ruth told her firmly. "All of it. My therapist, my new therapist, says that it is important that I listen to you. My old doctor retired. His daughter is so different...so understanding....I can talk to her...I mean....maybe I had the wrong therapist back then, Dana, but I don't want to blame everything on that, because...well, then I wouldn't be getting better....I guess..." "It sounds to me as though you are," replied Dana. She was determined to be kind. As long as Fox loved her, she could afford to be. There were certain things she couldn't tell Ruth, of course, but it was easy to change the aliens and clones into a terrorist group possibly looking to extort money. She sensed that Ruth was really listening, trying to understand. When she had finished, the woman sat silently staring into the fire for a long time. "You know, I only had Bill's side of the story.....He made it sound....it was as though my son was so selfish...and...well you were....I don't know.....I loved Bill once. I loved him so much that it hurt, but after being married to Ed.....I just don't understand how he could have been so cold, or I could have believed some of the things he told me.....I just don't understand why he never liked Fox." "I think you were the victim of a wife batterer, Ruth," said Dana quietly. "He never hit me," replied the woman. Her therapist had already told her the same thing. "Maybe he didn't have to. Perhaps, he battered y ou by withholding love from you." Ruth looked at her as though a light had just gone on somewhere inside her head. That was something Dr. Fielding hadn't told her, not yet, perhaps waiting for her to draw her own conclusions. "Yes," she whispered softly. "Yes, he would retreat from me, and it was as though the world was going to end. I guess I am a sorry excuse for a woman." "Mrs. Tillot, Ruth, the man I was in love with before Fox nearly beat me to death. In some ways that is far easier to deal with. I knew I had to run, to run or be killed." Dana patted the woman's hand gently. "If you really love someone, and that person is often kind and affectionate...well, I would imagine it would be more difficult. You keep going to therapy, Ruth. It will work out. You'll see." "And you'll forgive me?" "Yes," she smiled, "I'll forgive you." "Do you think Fox will?" "I can't speak for Fox, but I do know that he loves you and adores his sisters. For that reason alone, you and I have to try to be friends, okay?" "Okay, and I love your mother, Dana. I wish I was strong like her....." "Perhaps if you h ad been in her situation, had had her wonderful family, you would have been, Ruth. That's water under the bridge." Dana felt she understood Fox's mother a little better. Once, Ruth had loved Bill the same way that she loved Fox. The difference was that she had lacked the self esteem to stand up to such a domineering man. Dana knew it wasn't easy. Fox shared certain traits with his father, the tendancy to retreat into solitude, to turn to stone and withdraw love. No, that wasn't quite right. Fox didn't withdraw his love. He hid it. The difference was that Fox didn't do it to manipulate her, and he would always do the right thing in the end. If he hurt you, he was always sorry later. Afterwards he was warm and loving, and there was nothing phony about it, nothing fake, and again nothing manipulative. When Fox wanted to manipulate, he used his little boy grin, or his best hurt puppy look. It was usually so obvious that it worked. Fox also lacked the brutality that Bill had seemed to possess. He had inherited much of his mother's gentleness as well. Last but not least, he had married a strong woman who loved him, but who was also not afraid to stand up to him if the need arose. Still, Dana could comprehend now how difficult it might have been for Ruth, a somewhat simple minded woman, loving Bill Mulder as she had, to break his spell upon her. Idly Dana wandered if there was something enchanting about all the Mulder men. Fox began to recuperate in his mother's house almost at once. That evening, after eating a huge meal of all his favorite childhood foods prepared by Pearl, he delivered the promised lecture to his twin sisters from the white canopy bed as they sat nearby. Jennie looked a little defiant, as though she still saw nothing wrong with walking into danger. Amanda, however, appeared more thoughtful and asked questions. Finally Fox ruffled their hair with his left hand and told them he was tired . He also promised that if they still wanted law enforcement careers, he would do all he could to help, as long as they promised to finish college and get good grades. Being taken seriously seemed to satisfy them, and with their hands behind their back and their fingers crossed, the pair promised not to do any more snooping. He and Dana had laughed at that. The girls had no idea that their brother used the same trick, but that it had only worked once on Dana. Before falling asleep that night, he kissed Dana's head gently wishing he could make love to her. He started to tell her how he missed their apartment and her cooking, but in mid-sentence, his eyes closed and he was instantly asleep. It didn't matter. She had gotten the message. Dana nestled down next to him and slept as well. Dana spent time conversing with Ed and the girls and reading from the extensive collection of books from Ed's library. She read aloud to Fox, and when he fell asleep, she took long walks. Late one afternoon, she returned to find Fox's mother and sisters in the room. Ruth had an ice cream scoop and bowls. ` "Oh, come in, Dana," she smiled. She was growing fond of her daughter-in-law. "I went to Mad Martha's Ice Cream Factory and bought Fox's favorite flavor, pistachio." In truth, Fox detested pistachio ice cream. It had been his dad's first choice, not his. His ability to communicate silently with Dana stood him in good stead in this instance. A look of his eyes told her to say nothing different. Although he didn't say it aloud, he said, "Just like my mom to muddle it. What can you do?" Dana's lipped quirked up at him. "That was very sweet of you, Ruth," smiled Dana. "I love it too." Fox thanked her with his eyes as well, though neither of them missed the Snoop Sisters, a designation taken from the title of an old TV show, exchanging glances. The silent communication hadn't passed them by at all. Dana and Fox smiled knowingly. The pair was good. With Jennie's aggression, Amy's insights, and some experience, they could easily become a lethal combination. In fact, they very nearly had, to themselves. The idea was to become lethal to the bad guys! By his third day, Fox was starting to grow restless. Pearl's wonderful food, and the affection his family was displaying, along with Dana's love was working wonders. It was, Dana decided, time for him to begin moving around more. In anycase, they would have to leave soon, at least for now. She had to return to work. She couldn't justify taking much more time off because she was not on medical leave. Losing the pay wasn't a problem, but her expertise was needed. Agents who weren't working didn't do the bureau any good, and she didn't want to put Skinner on the spot anymore than she could help. Although he never complained, she knew the interfamily relationships had to be causing him difficulties. "Fox, why don't you put your pajamas and robe on and come watch tv with the family?" She had just finished washing his back gently, while wistfully thinking about how much she wanted to be in the tub with him instead of out here bathing him. She didn't dare however. His arm needed to be carefully propped on the side, and she needed to wash his hair being scrupulous about not getting the cast wet. "Okay, sweetheart," he said softly. He looked up at her and puckered his lips. She bent down and kissed him sweetly before helping him up, supporting his arm. He was getting better about getting his own things on with his left hand, but was still extremely awkward, and she still had to help him with the sling he was forced to wear. "Only three weeks," she thought, "then down to the half cast." That would be easier. Mr. and Mrs. Tillot were sitting in their respective chairs in the comfortable den, while the girls sat on the couch. In a moment of insight, Dana went to the end and the girls gently tugged their older brother down between them. "They're about to do the wedding show on< Mad About You>," announced Amy leaning her head on the shoulder that was encased in the cast. "It's so romantic," replied Jennie putting her head on his other shoulder. Dana slipped her arm across Jennie and put her hand gently on Fox's neck. "Mad About You" was one of her favorite shows. Fox only watched it because Seinfeld followed. They all lapsed into silence as the show began. They chuckled through all the wedding antics, the choosing of the dress, Jaimie eating every chance she got, the argument over the dinner. They adored the stupid marriage ceremony, performed in the middle of the night in Manahatten by the Con Edison worker/Justice of the Peace before the church ceremony in the morning. It was cute. It was wonderful. It was funny. It was perfect for 16 year old girls. Ruth had already seen it and sat with her book. She found herself watching the girls and her only son interact, however. They looked so sweet, and somehow Dana with them seemed to complete the picture. She realized that she had been so unfair in trying to keep her two families apart, so wrong. The girls needed their brother, and he needed them. They were blood, and in many ways they were a lot alike. And her son needed Dana as well. She was his anchor. Ruth looked at Ed. In one of those moments of unspoken communication between man and wife, he nodded imperceptibly and smiled. Yes, his girls looked sweet. It was good that they were all becoming a family. He was delighted at the changes that he saw fomenting in Ruth. It seemed as though she were on her way to finally realizing her potential as a woman. He debated with himself about whether he had been wrong in protecting her so much over the years, but in the end decided that the time had probably just been right for her to begin to grow now, the time and the circumstances. He looked forward to the future with her. Finally the show was over and the girls started quizzing Dana. Did you have a big wedding? How many bridesmaids? How many people? Did you wear a beautiful dress? Do you have pictures? There were so many questions, she couldn't even get a word in edgewise to answer. "I got married in a hospital room," Dana laughed finally. Amy looked across Fox and at her sister-in-law. This sounded interesting. She thought that Dana had beautiful eyes. "Was it Fox? Did he shoot himself in the foot or something?" asked Jennie with a wicked grin. Fox threw his head back and laughed outloud. Dana thought it sounded wonderful. "No, Jen, nothing like that," replied Dana. As she launched into her tale of their wedding, Fox found himself feeling a little sad, not for himself but for her. Dana was so beautiful, and she had never had a chance to wear that lovely white dress, to be a fairy princess for that one special day in her life. And, he realized, he had failed to keep his promise to her dad about marrying her in a church with a priest. It wasn't that he thought Bill would have disapproved of what he and Dana had done. It was just something he, Fox Mulder, had wanted to do. He wanted to be a dad like Bill Scully, and the emulation started with the adoration of Bill's daughter and respect for the family's religious tradition. "That's so romantic!" the girls burst out simultaneously as Dana concluded her story. "What about the honeymoon? Did you go away anywhere special?" Ruth asked joining in. "Just to Dana's apartment," smiled Fox. "But what did you do?" asked Jennie. "That's a stupid questions, Jens," Amy informed her. "You know what they did!" "As I recall, we fought about who was going to clean the carpet," laughed Fox. "You must have tried to make a baby! Oh, you two would have such pretty babies!" exclaimed Jennifer. "I can't wait to be an aunt." Amanda noticed the brief but uncomfortable silence. She looked at Dana. Her expression had changed. She looked suddenly sad. Dana was no coward however. "You will be one day, honey," she said softly. "I tell you what," said Fox diplomatically. "Let's watch the end of Seinfeld. It's my favorite show. When it happens, you girls will be the first to know besides us and the doctor. I'm sure it will be soon. Okay girls?" "Okay!" replied the girls with a big grin. That sounded just fine to them. "Hope it's real soon!" Amy, however, was thoughtful. They watched the end of Seinfeld and then a little bit of the news, but Fox was really growing tired. Dana was sleepy herself from all the long walks in the salt air, and even Ruth yawned. It was time to call it a night. =========================================================================== From: macspooky@erols.com (Macspooky) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: Gener/Inlaw(14)/Macspooky/Juliettt Date: 4 Oct 1995 09:23:17 -0400 "Mother-In-Law" Chapter 14 All disclaimers still apply. Because of Mulder's injuries they had been given the guest suite on the ground floor to prevent his having to navigate the stairs. Ruth Tillot stood when they rose to leave and hovered nervously near the couch as Dana helped Fox to his feet. "There's a service bell if you need anything," she reminded them for the umpteenth time. Ed laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I'm sure *Doctor* Scully is perfectly capable of handling any problems," he said firmly. Scully shot the big man a look of quiet gratitude. She had not known Fox's stepfather for long, but she felt she had gained a powerful ally in Ed Tillot. "Yes -- of course," her mother-in-law stammered. "I only meant. . . ." She trailed off uncertainly. Dana took pity on the older woman. "This is a big house," she agreed. "I appreciate your concern. We'll be certain to ring if we need anything." Mulder watched this exchange with some surprise and not a little interest. His mother was obviously going out of her way to be polite to Dana and Dana -- well, Dana was almost invariably polite, but now she seemed almost to be bending over backwards to be gracious. He knew well and good that his wife would not call for help for anything short of emergency surgery -- and even then, he thought with a grin, she would probably have a decent head start before assistance arrived. She was strong and brilliant and fiercely independent, and he loved that about her. It thrilled him that this incredible woman had fallen in love with him. He was just afraid at times that she was so strong that she didn't need him the way he had finally admitted to himself that he needed her. He straightened up painfully and Dana put an arm around his waist, she told herself. But the feeling of her fingers through the thin cloth of his shirt just above the waist sent chills through him and had a distinctly unsettling effect on his heart rate. He almost groaned with the sheer force of wanting her. It had been far too long. But he didn't know if he was physically and mentally capable of loving her that way, the way he wanted and needed to love her. He slid an arm around her shoulders and they moved slowly from the room after bidding the girls good night. The twins watched them go, then said good night to their parents and headed upstairs. "Did you see the way he was looking at her?" Jennifer asked Amanda. "No. I was watching the way *she* was looking at *him*," Amanda informed her. "She's so pretty," mused Jen. "They're so in love," sighed Amanda. "Well, of course they are," Jennifer retorted. "They're married." 'That doesn't mean anything," Amanda said seriously. "Mom and Dad don't look at each other like that." "That's different," Jen argued, "they're old." Amanda sighed again, this time in exasperation. "That has nothing to do with it. I swear, sometimes you're so dense, Jen." "Am not!" "Are so. Look at Dr. Scully's mom. I bet *she's* in love." "Mmm," mused Jennifer. Suddenly Amanda's eye took on a gleam. "Wonder if she's gonna wear that green nightgown." "Who, Margaret Scully?" Amanda turned to her twin in surprise. That was pretty dense, even for her. Then she noticed the teasing glint in her sister's eyes and socked her lightly. "Silly." Jen giggled, the frowned. "Nah. Big brother's just about dead on his feet. She looked pretty wiped, too." Amanda was frowning as well. "What?" She shook her head. "I was just thinking about some stuff from earlier." "Like what?" She hesitated. "Like the wedding. Sounds like it was a riot, but I bet Fox wishes he could have had a normal wedding." Jen giggled. "But Fox isn't normal." Amanda glared at her, then laughed. "Neither are you, nitwit. And neither am I. But I think he thinks Dana wanted a big wedding." "Well, don't you think so? I know *I* would." Amanda shook her head slowly. "I don't know. Somehow I don't think she really cares all that much as long as she's got Fox." "She's his wife, silly -- she loves him." Amanda started to retort that loving someone and being *in love* with someone weren't the same thing but thought better of it. She had caught a look between Dana and Fox that her sister must not have seen or understood or she would know what she meant. she thought. She had had crushes on boys at school and, while they had lasted, had firmly believed herself to be in love, but now she knew better. She had seen the care and concern Fox and Dana showed each other and the way they seemed to talk without saying a word. That was love. And she had intercepted that look, the one in which Dr. Scully looked at her husband with her heart in her eyes, the one that gave Amanda an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach. And in that moment something deep within Amanda herself had changed. She did not know it yet, but the interception of that simple, charged glance had done more to change her than all the harrowing events of the previous weeks, and already she was far outstripping her sister in her growth toward mature womanhood. She had glimpsed something rare and wonderful, and because of it the seeds of protection against cynicism had been sown. No matter what she encountered in the world she would never fully accept the tarnished view of love and marriage and romance, because she had seen evidence that they could coexist. And she might never be able to cite that evidence, but deep down inside her where the credulous child still lived she knew that there was indeed such a thing as unconditional love. It might be idealistic, but it was real. She had seen it. She said nothing of these things to Jen, however, nor did she think them herself -- yet. Instead she was remembering the other look she had caught, the one she *hadn't* mentioned to her sister. Despite the fact that the glance that had passed between Dana and Fox was so obviously private she had felt only a little funny about intercepting it. But this expression had made her feel guilty, as if she had been a voyeur spying on her sister-in-law's soul, and she tentatively set about analyzing her reaction. It was the look of sorrow and longing that had come over Dr. Scully's face when Jennifer had mentioned a baby. "Amanda." 'Hmm?" She realized that Jen was already in bed and that she was standing in the middle of the floor in her pajamas. "Turn out the light?" "Okay." She padded over to her bed and climbed in and turned out the lamp that stood between the two beds. "'Night." "'Night." Soon her sister's deep, even breathing told Amanda that Jen was asleep. But Amanda lay awake for a long time in the dark, thinking about Dana Scully. ***** Up in their own room Ed and Ruth Tillot prepared for bed in silence. Ed finished first and sat watching his wife brush her hair in front of the mirror. He had had a crush on her in high school and he still found her very beautiful despite the intervening years. He thought with some self-satisfaction that he was making her happy, trying to make up for all those years with Bill Mulder. It sickened him that Ruth had ever been in love with that man, and again he wondered whether he had ever abused her as he had his son. Probably not physically -- and Ruth had always sworn to her second husband that Bill had never laid a hand on her in anger -- but he was certain there was emotional abuse. His beatings of Fox were, of course, also an abuse of his wife. He shook his head, wondering what might have happened had Samantha never disappeared. Perhaps -- perhaps there had actually been some positive aspects to her disappearance, tragic as it was, he thought, for although Bill's physical abuse had grown more violent, the escalating severity of the beatings had resulted in Fox's going to live with his aunt and in Ruth's eventually divorcing her husband. And because by this point everyone knew about the abuse at least they had not had to face the disbelief of their friends and neighbors when mother and son moved out of the big house on Martha's Vineyard. And maybe Fox had been able to get some of the help he needed. This reminded Ed of his stepson's wife. Quite a lady. Beautiful, of course, and strong. Intelligent. Caring -- that she loved Fox deeply was evident in Dana Scully's every glance and movement. He allowed himself a small smile. From what he had heard, she was also a very formidable woman. He had never met anyone who could make Ruth backpedal like that while gaining her respect. Yes, she was a good match for Fox. If his stepson would just stop almost getting himself killed the boy might just stand a chance at happiness with this little redhead. He looked over at his own wife and caught her eye and smiled at her. The hairbrush ceased to move as Ruth Tillot paused in thought. She could not believe she had been so wrong about Dana Scully. She had always considered herself a fairly good judge of character. Ruth would have been shocked to learn that her friends and family would have laughed at this self-assessment. What Mrs. Tillot was good at was sizing up potential donors to her various causes and determining the proper angle of attack to get them to give -- and give generously -- in support of the charity. She was a very good fundraiser, and she put her talents to good use. Her husband wondered whether, deep down, she were not attempting to compensate for her own failures with her son by helping other children, but he would never suggest this to Ruth. He had discovered, as many others had, that Ruth Tillot was happiest when allowed to sail through life on a sea made calm by wealth and position. She lived in a sort of dream world of her own fashioning to which her husband's and family's and friends' compliance contributed. But now she had been given a wake-up call and, somewhat to her own surprise, she was responding. Not only had her only son nearly been killed trying to rescue his two half-sisters, but now it seemed that her beloved daughter, so many years gone, might still be alive. Add to this her talks with that enigmatical but somehow fascinating young Irish woman and you had a recipe for a shake-up of immense proportions. Despite herself she had genuinely liked Margaret Scully, had even envied her somewhat, this woman who had lived in comparative poverty with regards to material wealth -- compared to Ruth Mulder, that is -- but in an immense wealth of love and happiness. Her Captain had adored her, and her children still did. She had come running to her son-in-law's bedside, and Ruth had not even gone to Fox when she received the call from his partner that he had returned from Alaska, even nearer to death than he had been this time. Margaret had been there then, too, she remembered, watching over and then caring for Fox while he recuperated even though he was at that point only her daughter's partner and friend. And now he called *her* Mom. It would seem she had earned it. This reminded her of something she had overheard in the hospital, something she had *not* told Ed -- not yet. It still hurt too much. She had almost -- *almost* -- been a grandmother. She had never experienced the primal maternal urges with any of her four children. She sighed a little as she thought of the twins; they were almost grown up now, and somehow she felt she had managed to miss their childhood. And Fox -- she was beginning to see that Fox had never really been a child. Sam was too painful even to think about. And so her heart ached over the child Fox and Dana had lost. Something had changed in her over the past few weeks, and she felt bereft of the little someone she had never known. Ironically enough, it was Dana's broken words to her comatose husband that had finally begun the thaw around the edges of Ruth Tillot's frozen soul; with a sudden, instinctive flash of intuition that was really quite uncharacteristic of her she had seen in her young daughter-in-law a kindred spirit. They had both lost beloved children. Suddenly Dr. Scully had become quite human in her eyes: no longer simply the overeducated Irish temptress who had seduced her partner into trading his sister for her, she was a woman with hopes and dreams for a family of her own. Briefly she wondered what would have happened had the child lived. Would Fox have hidden her grandchild from her as he had hidden his marriage? She understood why Ed and her son had colluded against her in this, but it still hurt somewhat. And then she acknowledged what her reaction would have been had she known. For the first time in her pampered, sheltered life, Ruth Tillot was beginning to grow up, and she was experiencing growing pains. "Hon? You about ready for bed?" her husband asked her. She looked over at him. He was watching her quizzically and she started, realizing that she had been sitting staring at the brush in her hand. She passed it through her hair once more and laid it on the dressing-table and crossed the room, turning out the light as she did so. She climbed into bed beside her husband. He pressed an affectionate kiss against her cheek and settled down. She lay in the darkness, her mind whirling. So much to think about -- so many changes. "Ed?" she finally whispered. "Hmmm?" "I -- could we talk?" ***** On the way to their bedroom Dana was very conscious of Fox's arm around her shoulders, his near warmth, and of the way he was watching her. She shivered a little despite herself, and he hugged her closer. "Cold, Shorts?" he asked. "No. I'm fine." He grinned. He knew well and good exactly why she had shivered. It was for the same reason that he felt he was burning up. She caught herself thinking how damnably gorgeous he was with his even white teeth flashing that easy grin in the semidarkness. He looked good. He felt good. He even *smelled* good, and she realized with a start that despite all her carefully laid intentions, it was all she could do to keep herself from attacking him right there in the hallway. She shook her head. She sighed, knowing her conscience was right -- as always. "Why so glum, Short Stuff?" he asked as they turned into the bedroom. She shook her head, smiling faintly. "It's nothing." She helped him to the bed and stood over him as he eased down onto the mattress. "You need some help?" He eyed her speculatively. He really *wanted* her to undress him. Oh, yes. In a very bad way. But he was afraid that in telling her so he would start something that his body was not prepared to finish. He considered and then rephrased mentally: that his body was not *able* to finish. And so he shook his head with a sigh. "I can manage. I *think*." She nodded, slightly disappointed. So he wasn't physically able to make love to her -- she still wanted him, wanted to touch him and hold him and kiss him, to show him that sex wasn't the only way of expressing their love physically. But then, she thought, maybe that wouldn't be fair to him. And so she nodded with a faint sigh of her own. "Okay. I'm just going to go get ready -- call me if you need anything." She squeezed his hand and disappeared into the bathroom. he screamed mentally. He wanted to call her back, to ask for her help, to feel her hands on his skin as she helped him undress, to smell the faint perfume of her hair and skin, the remnants of the shower she had taken after she had helped him bathe. He had *wanted* her to join him in the bath -- it reminded him of their wedding night, and it had taken every ounce of his restraint to keep from grabbing her with his good hand and dragging her in with him. He sat for a moment on the edge of the bed looking at his cast. He had injured himself before and had had to deal with the inconveniences of having an arm or a leg in a cast. But never before had his injuries affected someone else so deeply. He thought again of how she had remained by his bedside during his coma despite the fact that she had thought he wanted a divorce. He wondered whether it could have been any worse than the days he had spent at the hospital watching over her after her abduction. He had begun to realize then just what she meant to him, what an integral part of his life she had become, and had been anguished over never having the chance to tell her how he felt. But Dana had had to sit idly by watching her husband slip away from her, believing that he wanted to divorce her, hearing his mother call her horrible names and accuse her of all sorts of awful things. And to make matters worse she had hoped she was pregnant and had found out while he was in a coma that she was not. For the first time the enormity of her pain struck him. The sound of water running in the bathroom reminded him that her bedtime preparations would not take forever. He wanted to show her that he was not a complete invalid, and then maybe, just maybe, she would let him try to love her a little. The slippers were easy. They dropped to the floor and he began working on his pants. Luckily they were only sweatpants, but he still had trouble with the waistband getting caught on his hips. Finally they, too, dropped to the floor, and he sighed in relief. Only his shirt left to go. He looked down at the slippers and the pile of sweat material and considered. Gingerly he reached down with one foot, wincing a little, and hooked the pants and pulled them up to where his good hand could grab them. He pushed the slippers so that they sat side-by-side just under the edge of the bed. Now. To fold the pants. He had vowed to himself to try to be neater around the house when they got home, and he might as well start now. Although she usually said nothing about it he had caught the look on Dana's face at times when he left his clothes and things lying around. He hated seeing that look on her face and knowing he had put it there, just as he had hated fighting with her at Christmas. He loved her more than anything in the world and he knew that because she loved him with the same intensity that made her all the more vulnerable to his unkindness at times. He was tired of hurting her, tired of being hurt. He just wanted to get home and try to get things back to normal. He decided he would even get rid of Krycek if she really wanted him to, although he had always wanted a parrot. He sighed. She had *not* been happy when he had given her the bird as a birthday present. He had almost convinced himself that it was because she hated parrots and that she was jealous of the fact that Krycek would come to Mulder but not to her. The bird would sit on his finger and take sunflower seeds directly from his lips. With a groan he realized something else. Dana called the parrot "Phoebe" not only because she hated it so much but because the seed trick probably reminded her of the time she had seen the Englishwoman kissing Mulder during the L'Ively case. They hadn't been married then, had never even dated. But he knew now that she had already loved him then and that he had loved her and that he had been trying to make her jealous. he berated himself. With a start he remembered the beautiful emerald earrings he had given Dana for last year's birthday, the ones he had bought instead of the sexy green silk nightgown because they weren't seeing each other and he had no hope that they ever would be involved. She had *loved* the earrings. After they were married she had told him about buying the green dress she had worn to Sinead's wedding at the last minute when he wound up taking her instead of Frank what'shisname, because she had not wanted to wear the earrings for Frank but she would wear them for him. They had turned out to be a very personal and very romantic gift. And what had he given her this year? Now that they *were* married and he could buy her all the sexy lingerie he wanted? A parrot. A stupid parrot that made his beloved wife think of that witch Phoebe every time she looked at it. He smacked himself on the forehead. he screamed mentally. Her first birthday less than eight weeks after they had lost their baby. And he had not touched her once during those two months, telling himself that it was for the best because Dr. Chan had said they should not try to get pregnant for at least three months and he would not risk hurting her again. Now he groaned and dropped the half-folded sweatpants to his lap. It was all so clear now. She had not seen the enforced abstinence as concern. She had felt rejected. She had lost their baby and needed to know that he did not blame her, that he still found her attractive, desirable. That he still wanted to make love to her. Instead he had pushed her away from him, telling her -- and himself -- that it was for her own good. He had quoted medical statistics back at his doctor wife to prove to her that birth control was not always 100% effective -- after all, it had failed them once already. And in doing so he had repeatedly driven home her loss and reinforced the guilt it was now obvious she had felt. She must have felt he was punishing her for losing the baby. With a sudden glimpse of that dark side of his psyche that he was terrified to admit was lurking there just beneath the surface, he wondered if he had *had* been punishing her. If so, he had also been punishing himself, for he blamed what he had put her through, both physically and emotionally -- forcing her to help him pick out and carry and set up that huge Christmas tree when she was already so tired, making love to her before she was ready -- for causing the miscarriage. Not to mention the fact that it was his fault she had gotten pregnant in the first place. Oh, she had always been a willing participant -- at times, more than willing. But then he, as she had reminded him when she told him she was pregnant, could be a "wild man" sometimes, and his ardor had evidently overriden the birth control they used so religiously. He could also be selfish, he realized. After pushing her away for so long until that rather memorable encounter on the dining room table, he had hurt her again by leaving his wedding ring at home and then becoming offended when she refused to make love with him at the inn. He had done what he had sworn he would never do. Like his father, he had put his own physical and emotional needs ahead of his wife's. She had been needy and frightened and grief-stricken after the miscarriage and he had rejected her. She had been so empty and he had refused to fill her. She had been lonely and he had given her a bird instead of himself, a stupid parrot to which he had shown more affection than he had to her. Now wonder she hated it and called it "Phoebe." Understanding now as he did, he was surprised she even fed the thing. He began wracking his brain, trying to come up with an idea for a romantic present for whatever holiday came next. He was *not* going to wait until Christmas. Christmas -- they had thought to have their baby with them for Christmas. A big tree with lots of lights and ornaments -- they would have started buying one for each year of their child's life or, better yet, made them together with their children like the Scullys did. If it had been a girl he would have bought her the biggest dollhouse he could find, and for a boy an elaborate train set just like the one he had always wanted. Of course, he thought with a faint grin, Scully would insist on not stereotyping their children, so perhaps he would buy both. He would try to be the best father in the world, not like his own father, and Dana would be a wonderful mother. He groaned. The next holiday was Mother's Day. He heard the water shut off and he quickly dropped the sloppily folded pants onto the chair next to the bed. He reached for the bottom hem of his shirt and pulled. He succeded in getting his right arm out of it and was attempting to pull it over his head when the bathroom door opened. He paused briefly to catch his breath, and then she was there, her small, cool hands easily slipping the shirt over his head and sliding it over his cast. He looked at her. She was not wearing the green nightgown, and for just a moment he was disappointed. Still, even in her almost prim pajamas, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Suddenly she noticed his sweatpants on the chair; it was obvious he had tried to fold them, and her eyes widened. He *never* folded his clothes at home, and now, with a broken arm and various other injuries, he was suddenly turning over a new leaf? She swung to face him, her eyes warm. Fixing his gaze with hers she gave him a dazzling smile and deliberately dropped his shirt and her clothes in a pile on the floor. He stared at her a moment, then laughed. As she joined him he reached out and slid his arm around her waist, pulling her to him. She put her arms around his neck and dropped a kiss on top of his head. "I love to hear you laugh," he said softly. "I want *always* to be able to make you laugh -- and other things." There was no mistaking the deep longing in his eyes. Dana sighed. "I know you do," she said. "Fox . . ." she trailed off uncertainly. "Yeah, Shorts?" he said. She was going to tell him he was in no shape for making love, he thought. Or that she was tired -- she certainly should be, after all he had put her through lately. She smiled at him almost shyly. "You don't -- I don't have to be Bridget Feeney every time, you know." He looked at her, puzzled. "I -- just want to love you, Spook," she whispered. He sighed in relief. "Dana -- I want to love you, too. I need to know that we're all right, that *this*" he gestured between them, "is all right." She reached out and smoothed his hair away from his forehead. "We're all right, Spook," she said solemnly. "We're *going* to be better. I love you. You love me. We'll work things out." He reached for her and drew her face down to his, kissing her gently at first, then with increasing hunger. Finally he pulled back and looked up into her eyes. "I want -- I need you, Dana. . . . Please -- please make love to me." Her eyes widened slightly. He always described himself as making love *to* her or *with* her. Suddenly she realized that he was giving her control. Perhaps it was physically necessary, but that he would say the words, acknowledge his need for her and his own inability to love her in the way he wanted to, touched her. It also affected her in several other ways, she thought with a smile as she gently pushed him back on the bed and climbed up after him. She bent over him, cradling his face in her hands, and kissed him softly. When she pulled back and smiled down at him he sighed and reached up to run his fingers along her cheek. She was prepared to hear him say something tender. Instead he said with a sincerity that was only half-mocking, "be gentle with me, Shorts." She laughed and kissed him again. "Oh, don't you worry, Wolf. I'll be careful," punctuating her words with kisses, "and gentle . . . and very, very thorough. . . ." ***** They lay curled together in the darkness, her head on his chest. He stroked her hair absently. Finally she reached up and kissed the bottom of his chin. "What are you thinking?" she asked softly. She could hear the smile in his voice although she could not see it. "Two things, actually. . . ." "Yes?" "One, I was wondering why you wore those purple panties under your pajamas. . . ." She laughed. "Well, the pajamas were because I knew you were in no physical shape to . . . well, to do what we just did." "Mmm-hmm. And the underwear?" "Because I was hoping you would convince me otherwise." This time he joined in her laughter. It felt warm and good and very healing, just as their loving had. "And number two?" His voice was both teasing and serious. "I was thinking . . . perhaps you should be in control more often. . . Bridget." She socked him lightly. "Bridget yourself." And kissed him again. Another long silence. Then, "Fox, I wish. . . ." "Yeah, I know, Dana. Me too." He pulled her closer. "But if not, we'll just keep trying." She nodded against his shoulder. "Dana?" "Hmm?" Pause. "Wanna try some more?" He felt her lift her head away to stare at him although it was dark. "Fox Mulder! You just got out of the hospital. . . ." "I know," he said. "And that's why I'm so lucky. . . ." "Lucky?" "Mmm-hmm. I have my own personal physician to play doctor with me. . . ." "You're incorrigible!" "Yup, that's me." "Impossible!" "Two for two." "Irresistible. . . ." =========================================================================== From: macspooky@erols.com (Macspooky) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: Gener/Inlaw(15)/Macspooky/Juliettt Date: 4 Oct 1995 09:23:19 -0400 "Mother-In-Law" Chapter 15 All disclaimers still apply. "I wish you didn't have to leave," Jennifer complained as she carried the basket out to the car a few days later. "We never get to see Fox, and we're just getting to know you, after all." "Well, that's going to change," Dana said with a smile, shutting the door. "Your mom and dad have already invited us for July 4th, and they've promised to come see us in D.C., too." She looked over at Amy, who smiled back. Somehow she and Amy had formed a special bond in the short time they had known one another. Both girls had professed an interest in joining the FBI when they were old enough, but whereas she knew that Jen's interest would eventually flag, she had no doubt that Amanda would make a fine agent if she still believed that was her destiny when she reached the moment of decision. She felt that Amy definitely had a destiny. She would talk to Fox more about it later. For now she simply gave the girl an extra squeeze and whispered, "and when you come to D.C. you and I will talk more, okay?" The young girl nodded, her eyes glowing. Her admiration of her brother's wife had moved beyond simple hero-worship. She respected Dr. Scully and was grateful for her attention. Although the girls had grown up in a two-parent home, they had lacked the female role-model they needed to grow up properly. Dana would fit the bill nicely. Then again, it appeared the times at home, they were a-changin'. Their mother seemed more -- well, more like a mother instead of a socialite. And Dad looked happier than he had in ages. "Thanks for everything," Amy whispered to Dana as she gave her one final hug. The girls attacked Fox next, and Scully shook Ed Tillot's hand, then turned to her mother-in-law. "Dana," she said softly, then reached for her. They hugged briefly, then the older woman stepped back. "Have a safe trip, and, Fox. . . ." He looked at them over the tops of his sisters' heads. "Take good care of this young lady." He grinned and nodded. "Don't worry, Mom. I fully intend to." He caught her eye and the gleam in his suggested to her several ways in which he planned to "take good care of" her when they got home. She twinkled back at him and then held the car door open for him. "Well, one of the *best* ways for you to 'take good care of' me would be to keep *yourself* out of trouble, Fox Mulder," she admonished him. "I swear, you have no idea how much of my time I spend patching him up. If he keeps going at this rate I'll requalify for surgery." They laughed. He tried to roll down the window to respond but couldn't because she had the keys. But when she started the engine he pressed the "down" button and hollered back at them, "oh, yeah? Sometime ask her about the mosquito bites. . . ." Their laughter was the last thing the Tillots heard as the car pulled away. "Mosquito bites?" Jen asked Amy as they returned to the house. "I dunno, Jen -- but knowing brother Fox and Dana, it should be an interesting story. . . ." ***** The trip back to DC seemed much shorter than the one to Martha's Vineyard a lifetime ago. There was not much talking, as Mulder promptly turned on his side and fell asleep almost as soon as they hit the highway, but the silence was comfortable rather than oppressive. She looked over at him fondly, at his messy dark hair that fell over his forehead, the long dark lashes that fanned his cheeks -- those lashes, at least, he had inherited from his mother, and his sisters had them as well. Not for the first time she wondered what Sam would look like now. Thankfully, they might still stand a chance of finding out, since the remains discovered in the mass grave had not been hers. And now the search could become what it should have been all along: a brother looking for his beloved sister instead of a son trying to win back his parents' love by returning to them the child they had loved best. He and his mother -- and Dana herself -- still had a long way to go, but the old wounds were beginning to heal. And she would be with him every step of the way -- as his best friend, his partner, his beloved wife. She turned on the radio, so soft she could barely hear it. She smiled. Celine Dion was singing. She glanced over at her sleeping husband and sang along: 'Cause I'm your lady And you are my man Whenever you reach for me I'll do all that I can We're heading for something Somewhere I've never been Sometimes I am frightened but I'm ready to learn The power of love. . . . she thought. It was amazing. Amazing that although Mulder was still recuperating -- slowly -- from his injuries, they were both far happier than they had been since they were first married. Perhaps even happier than they had been as newlyweds. Their marriage was certainly healthier. He was still physically incapacitated and griped and moaned about her having to take care of him, but her mother was right: deep down, he loved all the extra attention. Now, instead of insisting on playing lone wolf, he was responding to her coddling more in the manner of the average adult male: he was reverting back to little-boy-hood: in his case, the childhood he had never really had. He was learning to let go, to allow her to be the strong one for once. As for Scully, she was learning to let him worry about *her* occasionally. Even their lovemaking, wonderful as it had always been, had changed for the better. It was deeper, somehow -- richer, perhaps because they were becoming equal partners in this as in everything else. He had always been in control because she, as she frequently reminded him, was the inexperienced of the two. But ever since that night when he had asked her to make love to him, that had been changing. And the physical aspect was no longer the main focus. Not that she didn't enjoy that part of it, she thought with a grin -- far from it. Her "Wolf" had the ability to turn her into a pile of melted Jello with just a look or a touch. But sex was just a physical expression of the deeper coupling of minds and hearts and souls. At first he had been apologetic when his injuries had prevented him from loving her with his accustomed . . . enthusiasm. He had been frustrated at not being able to tear that last pair of purple panties off her, for one thing. And sometimes he had had to content himself with just holding her, when he wanted far, far more. She had reassured him. "Spook, give yourself time. Your body's been through an awful lot -- both of us have, over the past few months. It's okay. So long as you're here -- just to hold me and love me -- I'm happy. Not," she hastened to add, "that I don't miss my 'wild man.' But he'll be back. I'm just so grateful to have you alive and here and loving me, Fox," she concluded softly, her eyes very tender. He looked at her for a long minute and then pulled her into his arms with a contented sigh. "Maybe this is better, Shorts -- really. We're learning a lot from this, you and I. Maybe we needed to know that we could still love each other without sex. I just wish we could have figured all this out earlier -- it sure would have made those three months a lot easier on both of us." She smiled a little. Those long weeks had been miserable, coming so early in their marriage as they had, before they had really known each other, in the way they were only now beginning to know each other. Now, looking over at him, she smiled again. It would probably take her the rest of her life to figure him out, she thought -- if she ever could. But that was okay. It was a truth she was willing -- and eager -- to pursue. Fox Mulder stirred slightly in his sleep and gave a little sigh, then slipped back into pleasant dreams with a smile. His wife eased on the cruise control and took the exit to the District. Heading home. ***** When she pulled up in front of their apartment building and looked over, he still had his eyes closed, a faint smile on his face. But there was something about that smile. . . . With a smile of her own she leaned over towards him. "Fox," she said softly. "Fox, we're home." He did not stir. "Oh, Wolf," she murmured in the low, throaty voice that always gave him chills, "we're home. I suppose I *could* leave you out here, but I *really* don't want to sleep alone tonight. . . ." That did it. His eyes popped open and he stared at her, then rolled his eyes when he took in her knowing smirk. "You tricked me," he accused. "Mmm, but not entirely," she assured him. His eyes widened. "Oh, really?" "Mmm-hmm. I *could* have left you out here," she finished with a twinkle in her eye. He looked at her for a moment, then laughed. "Okay, okay. Just give me a hand, all right?" Slowly she helped him out of the car and up the sidewalk. His mobility was much better, but he was going to be confined to the office for a few days at least. She had given up on trying to make him stay at home. And, she had to admit to herself, she did not relish the thought of spending the entire day apart from him. When they reached the door to their apartment she unlocked it and stood back to let him enter first. "What?" he complained. "You're not going to carry me over the threshold?" At her sarcastic expression he softened his voice. "That's one thing I regret, you know," he said. "What?" "Not carrying you over the threshold." She smiled. "Something else to look forward to when you get well, Spook," she said. He limped to the couch and sat down with a sigh. "Dana, I'm really sorry I can't help you bring stuff in. . . ." "That's okay, Fox. I'll be right back." But instead of going back out to the car she headed down the hall to Mrs. Anderson's to collect Krycek. The older woman gave him back somewhat reluctantly. "He really is a beautiful bird," she told Dana. "So talkative. But *what* have you been letting him watch on television? We had a storm and every time it thundered he would yell, 'Help! Murder!' Scared me half to death the first time I heard it." Dana laughed. "Just my husband's oddball sense of humor," she assured Mrs. Anderson as she left. "Now listen, you," she said to Krycek as she walked down the hall, "I didn't want you and I've made no secret of the fact that I don't like you. You try to bite the hand that feeds you and I find that very annoying. But -- and this is a very big 'BUT,' " she continued, "Fox likes you. For the life of me I can't see why, but he does. And I love him. Ergo, you can stay. But NO MORE BITING!" "Help! Murder!" Krycek responded. She sighed and opened the door to their apartment and he immediately, of course, shut up. She shook her head and crossed to the couch, setting the cage on the end table next to Mulder. "Uh, Shorts? About Krycek -- I've been thinking . . ." he began. "Krycek and I just had a little talk, Spook -- I *hope* we understand each other. I promised not to hate him so much and he promised not to bite me anymore. If he does," she grinned, adding a little clause to their "contract," "if he does, I reserve the right to cook and serve him up in my choice of dinner dishes. And *you* have to eat it. You got that?" she said sternly to the cage. But it was Mulder who answered. "Yes, ma'am." She nodded and headed for the as-yet unpacked car. Mulder sat on the sofa and watched her out the window, appreciating the gracefulness of her movements and the way her hair gleamed red-gold in the sun. "Okay, Krycek, time for a new lesson," he began, picking up the box of treats on the coffee table. When the front door opened again he held out a treat and said cheerfully, "'Hey, pretty lady!'" She shook her head with a smile and headed for the bedroom with their suitcases. "Be sure to hang all that stuff up, Shorts!" he called. "Actually, Spook, I thought I'd just dump everything on the bed," she called back. "No way," he said with a grin as she rejoined him, "I have plans for that bed for later." "Well, right now I think you'd better plan on taking a nap on it," she said, bending to help him up. "Only if you'll join me." "I will," she promised, "*after* I finish unpacking. He sank to the bed with a sigh and held up his feet for her to pull off his shoes. She did so with a smirk. Perhaps some women would consider this demeaning, she thought, but it was such a change of pace for them that she did not mind in the least. As long as he didn't get too used to it. She pulled the afghan up over him and bent to kiss him. "Now *sleep*," she ordered. "Yes, ma'am," he said, but as she moved around the bedroom she could feel his eyes on her. Every time she turned around he managed to close them, but she knew he was watching her from under those heavy lashes. So she decided to tease him. She stripped slowly, seductively, tossing each item of clothing over her shoulder as she pulled it off. Finally she was down to the purple underwear and bra he had bought her at Victoria's Secret on their honeymoon. The last pair of that *awful* purple underwear. She stopped and looked at him, posed with her hands on her hips. He didn't move a muscle. She peered closer. Was he faking? She bent over him. His eyelashes did not even twitch. With a sigh that was part relief at his finally getting to sleep -- a very small part -- and part disappointment -- a very large part -- she changed into a nightshirt and climbed in next to him. Immediately, to her surprise, his arm went around her. "Sneaky Fox." She felt his smile against her shoulder as he snuggled up to her. "Thought you'd tempt me with that last pair, eh, Shorts?" She grinned. "Actually, I was thinking maybe we should save it. . . ." He grunted softly. "Thought you hated them," he said sleepily. She nodded. "I do -- or did. But maybe we should save them as -- I don't know -- a souvenir of what we've been through." He struggled with this for a moment. He was feeling very drowsy, but somehow he had the idea that this wouldn't have made too much more sense to him even had he been fully awake. "Symbolic underwear?" She laughed quietly. "Well, you know. I feel like -- well, Fox, when we first got married you had to teach me everything. Even this purple underwear -- I let you buy it for me even though I knew it would look awful because I thought you knew what you wanted better than I did." "Well, after I saw how awful it looked on you -- why do you think I ripped so many pairs off of you?" "Yeah, right," she deadpanned, and was rewarded with his snort of wicked laughter. "But anyway. I think you're right about our learning through all of this. And we've moved past all that." "What, my ripping underwear off of you?" "I sincerely *hope* not," she grinned. "But not every time." "No," she agreed, "not every time." "Okay," he said, "but as soon as I get better I'm taking you back to Victoria's Secret and buying you a whole new underwear collection. No," he said, placing his hand over her lips when she opened her mouth to interrupt him, "no more purple. This is the last pair. I promise." He felt her smile against his fingers. "Actually, I was just wondering if they carried purple underwear for men. . . ." *End Chapter Fifteen by Juliettt* T H E E N D Note: "In-laws" is part of Macspooky's "Generations" series and does not fit in with Juliettt's story series (Stakeouts/"Vengeance"/"Epithalamion"/Marriage). PS: The rest of the "Generations" series is available on the following ftp sight: eeftp.eng.ohio-state.edu pub/archive/xfiles/stories for anyone who is interested.