Archive of Our Own ^beta

Title: By Her Side: A Christmas Story
Author: Vickie Moseley
Summary: Bill Scully gets more than he bargained
for as he hosts Christmas for his now extended
family.
Rating: PG-13 (R for one naughty word)
Category: H, MSM (married Mulder and Scully),
(please note this story totally disregards anything
that happened in Season 9. It is
Doggett/Reyes/Season 9-free)
Spoiler: Existence, Dead/Alive, By Her Side stories
Disclaimer: I'm still not making money from this
and I didn't even watch season 9 (except for The
Truth). Ten-thirteen still owns the character names
and all action figures.
Archive: yes
Comments: This is the next installment in the By
Her Side Series, where I make Bill Scully, Jr. into a
somewhat loveable, three-dimensional asshole as
opposed to the one dimension asshole he is
portrayed on the show. It does mention my other
'wedding story', "Mother of the Bride" which, along
with the rest of the series, can be found on my
website.
Dedication: to all the very sweet people who have
asked for this series to continue. I think I've got my
inspiration back now.
Thanks to Susan, dtg, Sally, Theresa, Dawn and
Suzanne for keeping me sane.

By Her Side: A Christmas Story
By Vickie Moseley

San Diego, CA
December 24, 2001
1:45 pm

I should have stayed out on the ship. I see that now.
I had the chance to go out on the very next day, but
noooo, I'm Mr. Family Man. I could have cruised
the South Pacific, stopping at Honolulu, Tahiti,
Melbourne. But no, I had to tell my Captain that I
had a wife and a son waiting. I had to tell him,
happily, might I add, how my family likes to get
together at the holidays and this year it was our turn
to play host. I had to tell him that I was actually
looking forward to some time stateside.

I know why Dad was out on the sea so much. He
was a very smart man and he'd never even heard of
Fox Mulder.

So, we pulled into port on November 30. I missed
Thanksgiving, but my loving wife Tara more than
made up for it with a blow out dinner that was way
more than just the three of us could ever consume.
Of course, I needed the protein after the workout
she had put me through. She's gotten so good at
these homecomings. I thought, with the addition of
Matty to our little domicile, that homecomings
would be more, shall I say 'tame' than they were
when it was just Tara welcoming me home. But the
woman is a genius. She plans sleepovers for Matty
for the first night I'm home. The kid's only 4, it's
not like he doesn't get just as excited to see me 18
hours after I really arrive. In the meantime, well, I
figured out that this stint on shore duty would
include shopping for a new mattress on one of my
days off. We busted a few springs on the old one.

But back to the story. Like I said, Tara had
Thanksgiving all ready for me on December 1. A
week late, but none the poorer, believe me. She got
an 18 pound bird, stuffed it with oysters,
cranberries, bread I'm sure she made herself. And
that wasn't the half of it. Sweet potato casserole
that melted in my mouth, mashed potatoes
swimming in the richest giblet gravy ever to grace a
Scully table (God forbid Mom ever hears me say
this, but Tara's gravy runs rings around hers, I
swear!), green beans, corn, every olive I could hope
to encounter. For dessert, she brought out a 10 inch
pumpkin pie with real whipped cream. For three
people! It was almost criminal.

Actually, it was criminal. It was deliberate,
premeditated and I'm pretty sure illegal in least 28
states. The woman drugged me. Yes, I say it here,
she drugged me. That stupid drug in turkey that
renders you sleepy and content and willing to agree
to anything. She used it to coerce me into agreeing
to something that I never would have agreed to in a
million years!

I remember the conversation like it was yesterday,
even though it was just four weeks ago. I was
sitting in my reclining chair, watching the Chargers
game and thinking life did not get any better. Matty
was playing with some stuffed animal that looked
like a fuzzy blue-green monster with purple spots
and being quiet, an almost unheard of occurrence
since I'd come home. And Tara was doing
something in the kitchen, though I couldn't tell you
what because Matty and I had cleared the table and
loaded the dishwasher.

The phone rang. I figured if it was important, or for
me, she'd call me into the kitchen to take it. But she
left me to the game, which suited me just fine. A
few minutes later, she came in and crawled in next
to me on the reclining chair.

I glanced over at Matty, but relaxed because he was
all caught up talking to some invisible guy named
"Mike" about someone named "Boo" and wasn't
paying attention to us at all. Besides, we're a
family. We snuggle all the time. It's not like I was
going to strip Tara right there and we'd do it in front
of the kid. Or at least that's what I thought until I
felt Tara's nimble little tongue lapping at my ear.

That's something else for the court documents. She
drugged me AND seduced me. And right during a
crucial football game! I was just about to either
stop her or send the kid upstairs, when she settled
down again and started watching the game.

Oh, I thought. We're playing that game. OK, I was
fine with that. Tara would get me all, well, you
know, and then when we finally got Matty to sleep,
we'd use that lock on our bedroom door Tara made
me install years ago and I would get breakfast in
bed in the morning. Yes siree Bob, life didn't get
better!

Then she started to talk. She knows that I only half
listen when I'm watching a game. I pick up on key
words, like 'buy', 'sell', or 'doctor', but the rest of the
dictionary just sort of floats through my ears. I
remember vaguely nodding once or twice and that's
the extent of it.

Next morning, as she placed the tray with eggs over
easy and those really great little sausage links on
my lap, she hit me with the bombshell.

"So, I called Mom and Dana and it's all arranged.
We can use St. Mary's, I'll call them this morning
and I think I'll call that bakery in Horton Plaza for
the cake. Of course, we can't do it on Christmas
morning, that would be just too much, but I think
we could get the little chapel around 5 o'clock on
Christmas Eve. If no one else has it by now, that is.
But then, this is San Diego, there has to be a church
available, right?"

I had my mouth full by this time, and was searching
for a way to clear it. The coffee cup was there, and
I grabbed it and gulped. Big mistake. Tara likes
her coffee just a few degrees below nuclear
meltdown. I burned all the skin off the inside of my
mouth.

"Church? Cake? What the hell are you babbling
about, woman??" That's what I meant to say. It
didn't come out quite that clear. It sounded more
like 'Thurth, thake, wha' th' heww are you babblin'
'bout, woman?' but she seemed to understand.

"Fox and Dana's wedding, silly! Remember, I
asked you about it last night. You said you thought
it was a great idea!"

I reran my memory of the entire night. At one point
I remember Tara asking me if I wanted a beer.
She'd said something else, something before that,
but I hadn't really answered. At the time, I thought
the beer was a great idea. Ohmigod!

"Tara, I never said anything about a wedding!
Besides, they got married. Justice of the peace or
whatever."

"A judge. At the courthouse. Bill, what kind of
wedding is that? I mean, just your mom and their
boss there, that's not a wedding. It's a . . . a . . . well
I don't know what it is, but it's not a wedding!"

"Tara, they have a kid, for cripes sakes! It's not like
she can go down the aisle in a big white dress.
They were probably too embarrassed to have a
church wedding."

Lucky thing I was holding my coffee cup, or it
would have been in my lap if the look Tara gave me
was any warning.

"Oh, and I suppose all those times in the back of
your car were just 'practice sessions', right? All the
sex we had before we were married. That was just,
what, learning the ground rules, William Dennis
Scully?"

"Matty was born a full 8 years after our wedding
day, Tara Elizabeth, and you know it!" I almost
never use her full name, but she pissed me off.
Besides, she used my full name first.

Apparently I pissed her off as well. After a rather
silent day, spent mostly avoiding her glaring looks,
I sort of caved about dinnertime. Besides, she'd
made Matty mac and cheese for lunch and she
knows I hate that stuff, so I figured it was more
punishment for dinner if I didn't give in soon.

Which is why I'm standing in the middle of some
uptown florist shop right now, on December 24,
tossing about 350 bucks worth of soon to be dead
flowers on my VISA account and once again
cursing Fox Mulder and the horse he rode in on and
I'm not referring to my sister!

At the tinkling bell behind me, I cringe. I remember
he said he wanted to look down the street at
something. Funny, he shows up right after I sign
the charge slip. Amazing how that works, isn't it?

"Bill, what the hell are we going to do with all these
flowers?"

Well, if I weren't so pissed at the bastard, I would
give him points for that question. I'm wondering
the same thing myself.

"Tara ordered them. There's a bouquet for the altar,
one for Mary's altar, one for the Nativity scene,
flowers for Dana, for Tara and for Mom, then
boutonnieres for you, me, Matty and one for little
Bill . . ."

"Will," Mulder corrects me.

"Oh, yeah, for little Will, and then I think that one is
supposed to be on the table at home."

"Christ, this must have cost a fortune!"

The man is astute. But then, he was an FBI agent.
A now 'unemployed' FBI agent. Dana says he's got
a book deal on the line and he's going to be teaching
a class at Georgetown next semester, but for now,
he stays home and watches little Bill, I mean Will,
while she goes to work. Oh, yeah, I've got one of
those brothers-in-law. I notice he doesn't reach for
his wallet, but instead grabs one of the three large
boxes of flowers and hefts it toward the door.

Yeah, one of those brothers-in-law.

I guess, in some ways, I should be grateful. I mean,
I have known for years that this asshole is the man
with the keys to my little sister's heart. And he's
been falling all over himself in love with her for at
least as long, longer if he's to be believed. I know
Mom never believed they would kiss, much less go
so far as to have a baby together. And get married?
That was completely out of the picture. So I should
be tickled pink that they finally did the right thing,
gave the kid a name and all that.

They did it already. So why am I paying for them
to go ahead and do it again?

"Bill, I have to say, I mean, this whole wedding and
everything."

We are halfway to the car, and from the list I have,
we have four more stops to make. I'm feeling a
little miffed, but hey, if the guy wants to finally
cough up some cash, I can be big.

"I really wish you hadn't gone to all this trouble."

"Don't think anything of it, Mulder," I assure him.

"No, Bill, I mean I really wish you hadn't gone to
all this trouble."

We're standing here in the middle of the frigging
sidewalk on Christmas Eve and the asshole has me
ready to punch his lights out.

"Are you saying you don't want to marry my
sister?" I ask, trying real hard to keep my voice
down as the last minute shoppers hurry past us.

"Bill, I already married your sister. I married her
six months ago. I just sort of hoped to avoid all the,
you know, other stuff."

Now I get it. He wanted to avoid the whole 'church'
thing. Oh, boy. That takes the cake, that really
takes the cake. Well, Mister, let me tell you one
thing . . .

"Well, Mulder, let me tell you one thing, you are
going to go through with this and you're gonna like
it, get that? Because if you ever-"

He grabs my arm and propels me down the street.
Suddenly, we're both inside this little corner bar, the
kind the shiny new Marine Corps boots hit the
minute they graduate before they start weapons
school. Dark, nice wood, but the smell of beer and
urine is unmistakable. My kind of bar. He pushes
me to the counter and plops down on a bar stool,
glaring at me until I follow.

"Two Rolling Rocks and two shots of Jack
Daniels," he tells the bartender. Then he turns to
me. "What are you having?"

I suppress the nervous giggle that is threatening to
come out of my mouth. Oh great. Now he's going
to get drunk before the wedding. Flashes of the last
time Mulder and I tied one on come back to me. I
remember a hospital came into play at some point . .
.
"I'm just kidding, Bill. Geez, get a grip. You like
JD, right?"

"Oh, yeah, sure," I reply. The bartender sets the
two shot glasses and two beers in front of us.
Mulder picks up his shot glass, stares at the
reflection of himself in the mirror behind the bar
and holds the glass aloft.

"To women, especially the ones dumb enough to
marry us," he proclaims and downs the shot in one
gulp.

Well, I see no argument in that toast, so I second it.
"To dumb women." Then it occurs to me he just
called my sister and my wife stupid. I'm seeing red
again.

"Bill, relax, it was a joke. I know Dana and Tara
aren't dumb. They're saints, they're the mothers of
our children, they'll probably end up in some history
book for their bravery and steadfastness, at least
your sister sure will. But look at us. We're hardly
the catches of the season."

"OK, I'll give you that one," I tell him grudgingly.

It's my turn. I tap the countertop and the bartender
is there, Jack in hand. He pours two more shots and
goes back to watching his soap opera on the
television. I raise the glass, nod to Mulder's
reflection in the mirror and give my toast.

"To fatherhood."

He nods a bit and downs his drink again, in one
gulp. I'm starting to feel that really nice burn in the
pit of my stomach, but hope we manage to get to the
beers now.

"I love being a father," he says, turning the glass
over upside down on the bar. "I wake up every
morning and just go into his room and watch him
sleep. He doesn't sleep much past the minute I get
in there, but for just a few seconds . . ."

My eyes are burning, must be the left over smoke in
the bar. "Yeah," I say. "I do that with Matty
sometimes. When I'm not out in the middle of the
ocean someplace." That sounded like regret in my
voice. I didn't mean it to, but Mulder picks up on it,
too.

"It's a hard job you've chosen. I don't know how
you do it," he says and when I look at him, I can tell
he's not bullshitting me. He means what he says.

"You're the one who had the hard job," I huff back.
"You got killed." Opps, I didn't mean to bring that
up.

But he takes it in stride, picks up his beer and takes
a sip. "Yeah. It's been a bitch. I don't remember
my funeral, but the headstone was real classy. Gave
a nice set of new nightmares to Scully."

Now he's the one with regret in his voice. "That
little guy she carried off the plane sure made up for
a lot of that," I tell him, nudging him in the ribs
with my elbow.

"But I still have a lot of making up to do. That's
why I agreed to this. I have a lot to make up for. I
just wish." He swallows what he was going to say
around another sip of beer.

"It's the church thing, isn't it?" I ask him.

He shakes his head slowly, staring at some spot of
air between the bar and the shelf of bottles behind
it. "No, not really. I mean, Will's baptism didn't
bother me at all."

I missed the baptism. I was somewhere off the
coast of Sitka if I remember correctly.

"I just wish we could have done it right the first
time," he goes on, regardless of if I'm listening or
not. "I wanted to marry her a long time ago. That
stupid ass job and that fucking Bureau . . . no, I
can't even really blame that. I was a coward. Plain
and simple."

"Dana wasn't ready to marry you yet, either. Have
you thought about that?"

That statement sort of catches him off guard. He
stares at me, and I know I better back up what I'm
saying.

"Tara and Dana talk all the time. And right before
you were, uh, you disappeared, Tara said Dana was
happier than she'd ever been. Tara brought up the
idea of you two finally settling down together, I
mean, making it legal and all and you know what
Dana told her?"

He shakes his head at me, mesmerized by my story.

"She said 'we're so far past that point, Tara. We
don't need to make it legal.' That's what she said.
So if you'd come to her and proposed, to her, it
would have been a mistake, a step back. She wasn't
ready to see the advantages of being married."

"We've always made decisions together," he assures
me. "But not like now. Not where to live and
whether I go with one publisher or another one. It's
different."

"See, the way I see it, you two had, oh, what did
they call it, a common law marriage. You had that
for a long time. But you have to consider little Will
now. That's what made the difference."

"I know, Bill, I know. But I really hoped I wouldn't
have my son attending my wedding," he says with a
sigh, finishing off the beer.

"Look at it this way. At least you're marrying his
mother," I shoot back with a grin.

"At least she'll have me. Twice."

"If I were to ask Tara to marry me again, on certain
days at certain times. . ."

He interrupts me. "She'd do it again, Bill, and you
know it."

I nod in acceptance. "Yeah. I do." We're quiet for
a minute, each inspecting our beers and the counter
of the bar. It's been a question that's been eating me
for so long that I almost don't realize it slips out of
my mouth.

"So how the hell did I get a nephew?"

Beer spurts from his lips, but not enough to call it a
loss and he chokes down what's left in his mouth.

"I should have known not to get you around beer,
Scully," he growls. He wipes his mouth on a
nearby cocktail napkin and shakes his head as he
looks at me. Right now, I'm pretty sure he'd bust
me in the chops if he didn't have to face my wife
and my mother when he left this place.

"Do you want to know the specific position, or just
the general working principles?" he asks, in that
smart ass voice of his.

I get to growl this time. "She was barren," I remind
him. "She couldn't have kids. That was the whole
point of that little girl."

"Emily," he reminds me with an undeserved glare.

"Yeah, Emily." I still think it's crazy, but Tara takes
flowers out to the grave every holiday. Dana asked
her to do that, I know, but why should my wife get
stuck putting flowers on some kid's grave that
wasn't even really part of our family? And Tara
yells at me that I don't get it every time I try to bring
that up so I've learned to just keep my mouth shut.
"Face it, she couldn't have kids and now you have
one. How?"

He's chewing his lip, and I'm pretty sure he's not
going to tell me. Then he looks at me for a minute,
and I can actually see him change his mind right
there in his eyes. "She wanted a child."

"You guys aren't married, well, you weren't at the
time," I point out, rather reasonably, I think.

"But we couldn't. Not and stay partners. So she
wanted a child. And a doctor told her there was a
chance with IVF. So we tried."

"And that's how you got Will?"

"No," he says with this shit-eating grin.

"No?" I ask. What the hell is he talking about?

"It didn't work. She didn't get pregnant. So we
gave up. She never mentioned it again. We went
back to the way things were . . ."

"Having sex every other minute," I nod. It sure as
hell seemed that way the last time I saw them.

"Hardly," he tells me with icicles hanging off every
letter. "So, anyway, we went back to the way things
were. No more little plastic cups for me. No more
doctors for her. And then . . ." He just stops. He
doesn't say anything.

"You took off," I supply. It was what I always
suspected.

He laughs. A full belly laugh. He waves over the
bartender and taps at his empty beer bottle. Another
full one appears on the counter. He downs about
half of it.

"Yeah, Bill. I took off. I just walked out to Oregon
and stuck my thumb out and the nearest spaceship
just gave me a lift. That's exactly what happened."

I nod for a second. The spaceship story again.
Dana had told Tara something like that but of
course, she was pregnant at the time so I ignored it.
Hormones do terrible things to pregnant women.

"You were dead when you came back," I point out.
He was, too. I didn't get to the funeral, but Mom
did and she even helped Dana pick out the suit the
bastard wore in the casket. Dead and buried and
that was the end of it. I never knew how to feel
after I got the news. In one respect, I was sort of
happy that chapter of Dana's life was over. He'd
caused her so much pain and anguish, running off
when she got pregnant like he did. If he turned up
dead, who was I to care? But Tara told me, in no
uncertain words, that he didn't know she was
pregnant when he left. So why did he leave? The
man I saw a few years back would never have left
my sister.

"I didn't leave her on purpose."

I hate it when he reads my mind like that, but he
just keeps going.

"I didn't want to leave. Bill, I know you have no
reason to believe that, but if you've ever thought for
one minute that I love your sister, you have to
understand that I did not leave her of my own free
will. I was taken away from her. Believe whatever
you want. Believe it was aliens or believe it was
terrorists, I don't give a damn. Just know for a fact
that I would have done anything to come back to
her that night and she was my only thought all the
time I was away from her."

"OK, maybe I can buy that. But Mulder, you were
dead," I remind him. Just in case it slipped his
memory for a minute. God, I can't imagine what it
would have been like to be in that casket all those
months . . .

"I wasn't really dead. I was . . . very sick. What
they did to me left me near death, yes. But I wasn't
dead. I didn't 'rise from the dead', Bill. Skinner,
our boss, saw something that made him put two and
two together. He's the one who dug me up, got me
to the hospital. But it was Scully, your sister, who
saved me. She cured me. She brought me all the
way back to life. Just like she always does."

We hear the bell on the door as it opens and the
bright light of the sun floods the room for an
instant. When our eyes adjust, we see our wives
standing just inside the door.

"I told you to look for the nearest bar, Tara," my
dainty sister says as she saddles up to the counter
and plops down next to her husband. She picks up
the shot glass, examines it like it was some guy's
spleen, and sets it down on the counter again. The
bartender is standing at attention, waiting to call the
cops. "Give me what they're having."

"Me too," says Tara, hopping up to sit on the stool
next to me. "I saw the flowers, at least you didn't
forget what we sent you out for," she directs at me
with a little glare.

"Hey, this wasn't my idea," I object.

"It was mine, Tara. I decided I needed a bachelor
party. I didn't get one last time."

"As I remember," my sister pipes in. "The Gunmen
took you out to Casey's and you had a round."

Mulder looks over at me and puts his hand on my
shoulder. "Yeah, but my best man wasn't there," he
grins broadly and sips at the shot the bartender just
poured him. Best man? I mean, yeah, I'm standing
up for them, but Best Man? Who'd have thought!
Guess the first two drinks mellowed him out a bit.
Mellowed us both out a bit, the thought isn't as
disgusting as it once would have been.

"Are Will and Matty with Mom?" I ask, trying to
hide my embarrassment at our newfound 'closeness'.

"No, we duck taped them in the closet," Dana
replies dry as sand. "Of course Mom's with them.
When you two didn't come back when you were
supposed to, Tara and I decided we better go look
for you."

"Sorry," we both say as one.

Dana starts to pull out her wallet to pay the tab, but
Mulder stops her by tossing a Gold Amex on the
counter. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes.
Hey, wait. I thought they were broke!

"You need to pay Bill for the flowers. I forgot to
bring the checkbook, and he'd already paid when I
caught up with him," he tells her as he helps her
down from the stool.

"I already handled that. I paid Tara for everything
at lunch," she informs him. She turns to give him a
look. "Why weren't you at the florist with him?"

I recognize that tone in her voice. Somebody's got
some 'splainin' to do.

"You'll see, later," he tells her.

She gives him a look and then . . . lets it drop. I
have to remember how he did that. But then, it is
Christmas Eve. Dana was always a horrible snoop
at Christmas, but maybe being married with a kid
has mellowed her, too.

Tara is checking her watch. "Judging from the
backseat of the car, you haven't made it to the
bakery, the rental store to pick up the punch bowl or
the dry cleaners. And we have exactly three hours
until we have to be at the Church. The only way
we'll get this done is to split up the errands. Fox
and Dana, you do the punch bowl, I showed you
where the rental place was right by the house,
right?" Dana nods, I sit there in awe. "Good. OK,
Bill and I will get the cake and run past the cleaners.
We'll all meet at the house at 15:30. Any
questions?"

"I thought you were the one in the Navy," Mulder
mutters in my direction.

"So did I," I return, but before I get the words out,
his wife has him by the arm and my wife has me by
the arm and we are out the door and on the road.

The Church
16:55 hours
St. Mary's Catholic Church

I have to admit, Tara knocked herself out. The little
chapel is full of all those flowers that were in the
back of our van. Candles are all over the place,
because, well, it is Christmas Eve. This chapel
won't get much use tonight, Midnight Mass is in the
main sanctuary, but it looks none the less festive for
the season. The little Nativity has Matty wide-eyed
and actually quiet, for once. Even little Will seems
to think it's pretty cool, bouncing on Mom's lap.
She looks good with grandchildren. I wish we
could give her more. But I guess Matty and Will
will have to do until Charlie starts holding up his
end of the bargain.

Tara and Dana are in the women's restroom, doing
God knows what to Dana's hair. Tara's been a
frustrated hairdresser for as long as I've known her.
She'd be a good one, too, if she ever decided to do
it. She just hates the smell of those stupid
chemicals. Come to think of it, I hate it, when she
gets her hair permed or whatever and I'm forced to
sleep in the same bed as 'Bride of Frankenstein'.
Oh, God, don't ever let her hear me say that.

Well, tonight, it's Mulder sleeping with Bride of
Frankenstein. But for the moment, he looks . . .

This is so funny! Here he is, he's been married to
her for six months now, and he's the picture of a
nervous groom. His hair is sticking up from the
five hundred times he's run his fingers through it.
The jacket to his tux is bunched up on his shoulders,
again an effect of moving his arms up too high.
And what has he done with that cummerbund? So
help me God, if he lost that damned thing and we
have to pay for it. Wait, what am I saying? He can
pay for the whole goddamned monkey suit, from
what I gathered this afternoon. OK, let him lose the
cummerbund. Hell, it's not my money.

But there is no way I'm going out at 5:00 on
Christmas Eve to find him another one!

"Mulder, man, what did you do with the rest of the
tux?" I ask, trying to keep the frustration out of my
voice.

"Huh?" So much for an Oxford education,
apparently.

"The tux, man. The cummerbund to the tux. Where
is it?"

He looks down at his waist, as if it will magically
sport the missing piece of fabric. Then he looks up
at me, stricken. "I . . . I don't know."

I nod, trying to keep what little patience I still have
in check. "OK, did you have it with you in the
restroom?" I ask. When did I start sounding less
like me and more like Dad on Easter Sunday when I
couldn't find my left shoe?

"I think I did. I don't know. Are you sure it came
with one?" he asks. This man was a top profiler?
This man watched my sister's back for 9 years?
Shesh!

"Let's look, shall we?" I offer and guide him toward
the men's room. Luckily, we're alone, so we don't
look quite like the dorks we are as we check the
stalls and under the sinks. Finally, he spots the
hanger on the back of the door. The cummerbund is
still hanging on the hanger. At least it's not on the
floor of one of the stalls.

"I just . . . I don't know what's wrong with me,"
Mulder tells me as I watch him try to get the
cummerbund around his waist. He can't seem to get
the hang of the fastener. I give up and go around to
help him.

"It's nerves, Mulder. Every groom has 'em."

"But the second time around, and to the same
woman?" he asks.

The cummerbund is in place, I straighten the jacket
and hand him a comb, pointing toward the mirror on
the wall.

"Sure. What is a wedding, anyway? A big show.
Who doesn't get nervous the night of a big show?"

"It's not just a show," he reminds me as he tries to
tame the wild thing on his head. Man, I wish my
genes had that many follicles.

"Mulder, you don't love her any less right now than
you will after you say 'I do', again," I remind him
right back.

"I couldn't possibly love her any more than I do," he
agrees. Finally, he decides to give up on the hair.
He looks at himself in the mirror. I shoot him a
smile and a nod. Just like Dad did to me at my
wedding.

"Ready to get this show on the road?" I ask him.

He blinks and for a moment, he turns a little green.
Oh shit, what did I say? But he recovers quickly
and gives me a weak smile.

"Yeah, let's do it."

I nod and head out the door, fighting the urge to
look over my shoulder and make sure he's following
me.

The little chapel looks great. The sun has set
outside, and even though it's a balmy 67 degrees, I
can almost believe it could snow tonight. Christmas
snow. I know it's pretty silly of me, considering we
really didn't have much Christmas snow when I was
growing up, definitely not when Dad was at
Miramar, or when we were in Pensacola. But the
two years at Great Lakes we had snow each year
and I think those are the Christmases I always
remember from my childhood.

Matty sees me and yells out 'Hi, Daddy!' before
Mom gets a chance to shush him. On most
Sundays, this chapel gets double duty as a cry room
and he's used to talking back here. He tries to
explain that to Mom, but she shushes him right back
and I have to hide my laugh when Matty gets the
same look we used to get every time we acted up in
Church.

Will, on the other hand, is mesmerized by the
candlelight and looks about ready to drift off. I
know Dana fed him before we left for the church, so
he's probably not going to last long.

I look at Father Dannon, the young priest here at St.
Mary's. He's a good guy, about Charlie's age.
We've talked a time or two after Mass when I'm on
leave. I like him and I'm glad he's the one doing
this. Old Father Sullivan would have said
something about 'carts before horses' when he got
wind of the circumstances. Dana doesn't need to
hear that, not after what they've been through.

And speak of the devil, or in this case, my sister,
here she comes. Tara said they found the perfect
dress, white, sleeveless, a v neckline that I would
have choked at if it had been my bride coming
down the aisle. I glance over at Mulder and see the
appreciation in his eyes, too. It's funny, I've known
for so long that they've been in love, but it never
occurred to me how much in love they really are. I
shoot a smile to Tara, who's just made it to the front
of the church right before Dana. She smiles back. I
guess we're still that much in love, too.

Father Dannon smiles at everyone and the
ceremony gets started. Amazingly, Matty doesn't
say a peep after the initial warnings from Mom. I
wish she'd teach that trick to Tara. And as I
expected, when I have a chance to look behind us,
Will is sound asleep in his carrier, none the wiser
that he's witnessing a very important occasion. So
basically, Mulder's getting his wish, too.

When Father Dannon asks them to exchange rings, I
remember that Dana had already given me her
wedding band to give to Mulder. I start to pull it
out of my pocket, but Mulder shakes his head and
pulls something out of his inside jacket pocket
instead. I only see it for a second as he slides it on
his finger, but the whole ring is encircled with
diamonds and sparkles enough to light up a battle
cruiser.

Dana was looking at their hands and when this new
ring appears she jerks her head up to meet Mulder's
eyes. For a second I almost feel sorry for the guy.
If looks could kill, I'd back up to be out of the blast
zone. But then he smiles at her and tilts his head
just a bit and she closes her eyes for a blink and
replaces her fiery glare with the most beautiful
smile I've ever seen on her face. She nods to poor
Father Dannon, who isn't quite sure what's going
on, but doesn't want to add to any possible
bloodshed. In a shaky voice, the young Father
finishes the ceremony.

They kiss, a most chaste kiss that promises to be
more passionate when they get to the hotel later.
That was Tara's idea, too. She pointed out this
would be the only Christmas when Will would be
too little to notice his parent's absence, so they
should take advantage of that and spend one
honeymoon night together. Mom told me earlier
they didn't get that after the first wedding.

We all stand around, kissing the bride, shaking
hands with the groom, but it doesn't really take
much time because it's just us and Charlie finally
shows up, late as usual.

"I missed it, you'll have to do it again!" he declares
as he waltzes in, sweeping Dana in to a hug and
then Mulder, too.

"Not on your life!" Mulder tells him. "Twice is
enough."

"Not even on our 50th Anniversary, G-man?" Dana
asks coyly.

He grins down at her and pulls her into his arms.
"Ask me in 50 years." The kiss he bends down to
give her is anything but chaste and Mom clears her
throat to break them up before things get out of
hand.

"Let's get back to the house. We have dinner, yet.
And don't you even think of sneaking out on that,
you two," she warns the newlyweds.

We gather up the boys, Mulder hefting the carrier in
one hand and puts his other arm around Dana's
shoulder. "About these weddings, partner. I liked
the original, but the remix is good, too." I have to
swallow my laugh when she socks him right in the
gut.

Tara, Mom and Dana had knocked themselves out
while Mulder and I were playing at the florist and
bar. The house, which I hadn't really had a chance
to notice before, looks like a Christmas wonderland.
No, it looks like our house, when I was growing up.
It looks beautiful and I make sure to tell my wife
just how beautiful when we have a minute.

The buffet of food is excellent, too and a few of our
neighbors are over to share in it. Tara smiles at it
all, she loves hosting parties. Such a Naval wife.
So much like Mom.

I notice the punch bowl is empty after we've all had
our fill of the ham, turkey and roast beef
sandwiches and salads. I go into the kitchen to mix
up some more, maybe with a little more 'spice' this
time.

I hear a high-pitched squeal that I know comes from
Tara in the living room. I almost drop the punch
bowl to run in and see what's the matter.

As I get in the room, there is my wife, clinging to
my brother-in-law for dear life, tears streaming
down her face. And right in front of me, she plants
a hell of a kiss right on his mouth.

"I love you, you big lug!! They are perfect,
absolutely perfect! Oh, god, if we hadn't gone to all
this trouble, I'd marry you myself!" And then she
notices that I'm in the room.

There is complete silence for a few seconds. I must
be seventeen shades of red because my face feels
like it's on fire. Tara pushes herself away from
Mulder and runs over to me, throwing her arms
around my neck. "Nah, on second thought, I'm
sticking with my current model," she says and
proceeds to stick her tongue very far down my
throat.

Whatever I was thinking is lost as I return the kiss
and try to remember there are people in the room,
cursing every one of them that I can't just tell my
wife to ditch the party and let's get a room
somewhere. But I gain some brain cells as she
slides down my side and holds a small box out for
me to see.

Diamond earrings. Something I could never afford
on military pay.

"They're from Mulder and Dana," she says with the
biggest smile I could ever imagine another guy
putting on her face. Then she pulls me down and
whispers in my ear "and the money we put out on
this thing, it's all been covered. Plus, next leave, we
have plane tickets home and an offer to babysit
Matty while you and I spend a few days at Mulder's
summer house in Rhode Island!" Her eyes are
twinkling so bright, she looks like a miniature
Christmas tree.

I look over at Mulder and he just shrugs. "It's there,
if you want it."

I keep a smile plastered on my face and nod. The
son of a bitch. He's loaded after all. The ring on
Dana's finger almost blinds me when it catches the
lights of the tree and now the earrings in my wife's
ears are causing the jets at the base to confuse our
living room for the landing strip.

I look over at Mom, hoping for some moral support.
That's when I catch the necklace she's wearing. Not
diamonds this time, thank god. The room can't
stand any more brilliance. No, my mother is
sporting a perfectly matched set of pearls. They are
beautiful. And I know where they came from.

I search for any scrap of calm I can find in the pit of
my stomach. So this is what I'm in for. A lifetime
of being out 'Jonesed' at every family gathering. A
lifetime of hearing 'Mulder gave Dana this and
Mulder gave William that'. Or worse yet, maybe
even the ego-crushing 'why can't you provide for
Tara like Mulder provides for Dana!' I can feel the
50-year migraine starting just behind my left eye.

"Bill, where's the punch?" Tara asks as she showing
off her earrings to our next-door neighbors.

"Oh, yeah, punch," I mumble and beat a hasty
retreat into the kitchen.

I hear the door swing and don't bother to turn
around. "I've got it, Tara. I couldn't find the new
bottle of 7-Up."

"It's not Tara, Bill." Oh shit, it's Mulder. But I
keep my face steady. The bastard just gave my wife
and mother at least a couple thousand dollars worth
of presents, I can be grateful. Can't I?

"Bill, I, uh, what Tara said back there," he
mumbles.

I refuse to let this discussion happen. He's got
money, I don't. Big deal. It's not the end of the
world.

"It's OK, Mulder. You gave some terrific presents
tonight. She got a little overwhelmed. No big
deal," I say, making sure my hands are occupied
with pouring fruit punch and 7-Up into the cut glass
bowl. Cut glass. Damn, even the punch bowl is
depressing me now.

"Bill, can I be honest with you?"

I really don't want to look at the guy right now, but I
can't exactly shove past him with the punch bowl.
It would end up on both of us. So I turn, wiping my
hands on a dishtowel.

"Bill, I probably should have told you that I was
getting Tara those earrings. For all I know, you're
giving her a set just like them."

I snort. Not at my pay grade.

"I just wanted both of you to know how much I
appreciate all that you've done for us. You didn't
have to plan all this. It's been a really wonderful
ceremony for Dana. She wanted a church wedding
the first time, but it didn't turn out that way. You've
given her something I couldn't give her. I just
wanted to find a way to repay you."

I can't help myself, it just blurts out. "By giving my
wife earrings I could never afford to give her?"

Mulder closes his eyes for a second, like he hadn't
given it any thought at all until this moment. "I, I
never meant . . . Bill, in my family, money was
never a problem. You've seen how I live. I buy
expensive suits because they fit better. If we
weren't living in Dana's apartment, Will would be
growing up in a one-bedroom fourth floor with an
elevator that runs half the time. Money really
doesn't mean that much to me. I'm sorry if I made
you feel uncomfortable. I'll try to remember it in
the future."

His hand comes out and I'm now forced to make a
decision.

He's not the man I hated for so long. I got over that.
He's not my sister's lover. I was able to ignore all
that. No, this man is now my brother, that's just
how our family is. And just as Charlie can drive me
crazy at times, like when he shows up after our
sister's wedding, well, this man is likely to drive me
crazy at times, too.

But that's how brothers are. That's what family is.
The warts, the Jonesing, the whole nine yards.

I take his hand and shake it firmly. "Just keep the
earrings to under 500 next time," I tell him sternly.

He laughs, a relieved laugh if I can judge by the
sound of it. At that moment, Dana comes through
the doorway.

"Will is asleep, I just fed him again. If we leave
now . . ."

"Right there," he tells her with a wink. "Just one
more thing."

"OK, I'll get our sweaters. It's turned chilly out
there."

"Well, Bill," Mulder says, shrugging his shoulder
while digging in his pants pocket. "I guess I should
take these back and exchange them for something a
little less showy, huh?"

I look at him in confusion. He pulls out season
tickets for the San Diego Chargers. I can see the
seats. These are _really_ good seats! I snatch the
tickets out of his hand and pull him into a bear hug.

"Damn, Mulder, if you weren't married to my sister,
I'd tell Tara we'd have to make it a threesome!"

And turn around to see my wife, my mother and my
sister all staring at us from the doorway of the
kitchen.

"Mulder, it's time to go," Dana says coolly. Mom
and Tara look like they're about to burst.

"Yeah, sure, ready when you are, babe," he tells her
and goes over to give Mom a kiss on the cheek and
then looks back to me. I nod and he gives Tara a
kiss on the cheek, too.

Tara and I walk them to the door. "Mulder, about
what I said in the kitchen," I tell him as they start to
head for their rental car.

"Yeah?" he turns to look at me.

"You can go higher, if the mood hits."

His grin is worth it. Everything I've been through
this day and to come.

We wave as they get in the car and drive off. Tara
gives me a hug and walks with me back into the
house. Before we rejoin the party, she pulls me
down to give me a kiss. I have to admit, the
earrings look perfect on her.

"What was that with Mulder?" she asks.

I can look innocent when I want to. "Just a thing
between brothers," I assure her.

I have one of _those_ brothers-in-law. And I
wouldn't change him for the world.

The end.