"You've got to be kidding me." Serendipity stared in disbelief at the swath of scarlet leather cradled in her mother's hands. That couldn't be a dress. It had metal spikes... and studs. Armor? Maybe. An article of clothing? Not a chance. She shook her head firmly and said, "No way, Mother. We hotshot FBI agents have kevlar for that sort of thing."
The elder Murphey frowned and considered the dress again. "I thought it was rather cute. At least it would give you a better chance with the boys than those horrible things you're wearing now," She flapped the leather hem in the direction of Serendipity's stone-washed jeans and gray Quantico sweatshirt. Serendipity felt the strong, and undeniably juvenile, urge to stick out her tongue. They had been the only clean clothes in the living room, and going into the bedroom would have meant risking a confrontation with Walter Skinner, who'd been asleep in her bed. In the nude. Of course, he couldn't really be considered a *boy*, so perhaps her mother's point was still valid. When she glanced back at her mother, the older woman was holding the red dress up to her own lanky frame, and making a considering noise in the back of her throat. Serendipity plucked the dress hurriedly out of her hands, before a vision of Anne Murphey with handbag, shoulder-spikes, and a whip could completely surface into her forebrain. Some things, she mused, daughters were not meant to know. Or even speculate about.
She dropped the hanger back into its proper place. Before Anne could reach for it again, she pleaded, "In the interest of decency and daughters everywhere, Mom, leave the dress alone."
Anne sighed, "You never let me have any fun."
Serendipity snorted, totally unsympathetic. "Right. I guess that means that we didn't just spend the last three hours playing 'Tourists from Hell'? I even took the FBI tour with you, remember? Do you have any idea how long it's going to take me to live that down?" She just *knew* that there were already a dozen little plastic FBI souvenirs just waiting at her desk. Especially since her mother had kept commenting on how "cute" everything was.
"Well, you said that you hadn't seen most of it. Besides, those little badges they gave everyone at the end were terribly cute, don't you think?" Serendipity hoped that that was supposed to be a rhetorical question. Apparently it was, because Anne began moving towards the exit of the little mall shop with surprising speed. Serendipity hurried after her, picking up the large bag filled with purchases from the innumerable other stores that they'd already visited.
When she finally caught up, after dodging a determined perfume-sniper and three shoe racks, Serendipity stole a glance at her watch and sighed with relief. "Mom, remember I told you we were meeting a friend for lunch? Well, we need to get going if we're going to make it. So let's call it a morning, all right?"
Anne sighed in disappointment, "Well, I suppose we should. I'm a bit peckish anyway," In Anne-speak, 'peckish' meant "I'm starving, but I'm shopping." To the elder Murphey, shopping wasn't a necessity, a hobby, or a recreational activity. It was a vocation. Not that Serendipity wasn't also a supporter of the 'Veni, Vidi, Visa' lifestyle, but Anne took the ritual of shopping to the level that Michelangelo took painting. She was capitalism's pride and joy.
"It's okay, Mom," Serendipity murmured soothingly, "We can come back after lunch. Or, if you're done here, there are about five more decent malls in the area." Her mother literally perked, the sparkle coming back to her blue-gray eyes. The two women shared the quick grin of the shop-a-holic.
"Five more?"
"Yep. And I know this one place that's got stuff that'll give Dad a heart attack when you wear it home." Without, she added mentally, giving *me* one. Anne grinned devilishly, only needing to rub her hands together to complete the picture of evil glee.
"That old fogey," she said affectionately, "He needs to be a little shook up on occasion. It's what keeps him young."
Serendipity chuckled. Her parents should have been the world's worst couple. Anne was a free spirit, who bought into every new craze, and whose taste in clothes varied from 'earth mother' to 'punk'... in the same outfit. Martin Murphey, on the other hand, had never been seen in anything less than a three piece suit in his life, was a staunch supported of the Republican party... and head over heels in love with his wife. It was an uncanny thing to watch, when those two were together. Especially the time Anne had tried to get Father into dance aerobics. The look on his face when it had come time for the hip wiggles had sent the entire class of seniors into giggles. Caught up in the memory, she missed her mother's question.
"So, where will we eat?" Anne repeated, raising her voice. Serendipity jerked her mind back to the present.
"Hmmm? Oh, a place called Duvall's. Good food, sort of Irish interior. You'll like it." Anne nodded, and correctly interpreted that as 'bar and grille I picked at random'.
"Hey! Serendipity? Is that you?" The young male voice came from behind the women, and both of them turned quickly, as Murphey felt a lead wait sink into her stomach. She stared at the handsome, smiling agent standing before her with dismay. A feeling which deepened as she caught the frankly predatory gleam in Anne's eyes, as she mentally calculated the price of the suit the man wore.
"Hello, Tom," she said, trying to inject a note of enthusiasm into the greeting. She must have succeeded, because Tom Colton's smile went up a few more watts. His teeth were amazingly white. They almost seemed to glow in the light from the skylights, she noted with puzzlement. What did he use on those things, chrome?
"Hey," he repeated, and turned his fluorescent smile on Anne, "And who is this lovely young lady, Serendipity? Your sister?"
Serendipity couldn't help it, she groaned. "C'mon, Tom. Can't you think of *anything* more original than that? I mean..." She broke off her sentence as Anne kicked her in the ankle.
"Serendipity Agnes Murphey! Is that any way to talk to a charming young man who just complimented your mother?" She turned a bright smile of her own onto Tom. "Sometimes, I just don't know what gets into her. Are you a friend of my daughter's?"
Tom blinked. "Agnes?" he repeated slowly. Serendipity scowled as she felt a faint blush rise to her cheeks.
"Yes, *Agnes*. It was my grandmother's name. There's nothing wrong with Agnes!" she growled, glaring at him fiercely. Tom swallowed, and hurriedly stammered an agreement.
"Oh, stop that. You're scaring the poor boy. Now he won't want to come to lunch with us." Serendipity's blood froze. It was amazing how quickly the human body could go from burning anger to stark, cold terror. Tom Colton, brown-noser and gossip extrordinaire, Serendipity, Anne... and Walter Skinner. Talk about a recipe for Armageddon. She sent frantic telepathic signals at the side of her mother's head, but if they were getting through the gray hair, then she wasn't listening, for she plunged onward, "You *will* come to lunch with us, won't you Tom? Please?"
Serendipity made a strangled noise in the back of her throat as Tom replied happily, "Of course! How could I turn down the chance to associate with two of the loveliest ladies in Washington?" Anne blushed, and fluttered her eyelashes coyly. Serendipity just glared at them both.
"We'd hate to impose, Tom. I'm *sure* you have more important things to do. Please, don't let us detain you," she said through gritted teeth, ignoring the sharp pain as Anne's shoe connected with her anklebone again. To hell with subtlety, she thought, I'm trying to avoid the ruin of both my career *and* the first glimmer of a personal life I've had in a year. Tom's megawatt smile faltered as he finally took in the tone of the conversation thus far, and the highly unhappy female in front of him.
He coughed nervously. "Errr, perhaps I'd better take a raincheck, Mrs. Murphey..." His voice trailed off, and he took a tentative step backwards, only to be stopped by an arm that had suddenly snaked around his elbow.
"Nonsense! You're coming to lunch with us, I insist. And please, call me Anne, everyone else does." Anne shot a telling look at Serendipity. "You must excuse my daughter. I just don't know where her manners went today." Serendipity tried out a Walter-frown, only to be totally ignored by both of her companions. Maybe you had to be a Marine.
"Oh, that's okay, Anne. I'm used to it," Tom chuckled, "In fact, the last time I had a date with her, she went home with another guy." Oblivious of Anne's gasp, Serendipity felt her jaw drop. Now, *that* was low.
"Serendipity! How could you do that to this poor boy?"
"Mother," she tried to interrupt.
"I cannot believe that you'd do such a thing, and to such a nice fellow!"
"*Mother*,"
"I was *sure* that your father and I had raised you better..."
"MOTHER!" Anne's jaw closed with a snap. "Drop it, and we'll discuss it later." Serendipity rubbed her forehead, where the beginnings of a headache had awakened. Tom's smug little "Gotcha" grin wasn't helping, either. It was times like this when she started looking for places to store the body... parts. Coltonburgers had a certain appeal, as well.
On cue, Tom broke in, "Ummm, where are we going to go eat, anyway?"
Anne, still a little stung, shrugged. "DeVille's, Derek's, something like that."
Unable to resist, Serendipity muttered, "Dahlmer's."
Tom blinked. He couldn't have heard what he thought he had, could he? "Ummmm, where did you say, Serendipity?"
Serendipity smiled sweetly and decided to Hell with it. "I said Duvall's. It's on eighth."
"Oh," said Tom, not feeling at all relieved, for some reason. Anne shot a suspicious glance at her daughter, but was met with blandly innocent gray eyes. Her gaze narrowed. No Murphey would look *that* blameless unless they were up to something. Serendipity broke the stare first, bending to pick up the bag.
She headed for the exit, calling back over her shoulder, "You guys coming, or what? We're already late." Hearing them rush to catch up, she smiled. Damn the torpedoes, indeed.
**********
Skinner checked his watch for the fourth time in as many minutes. Serendipity and her mother were late. Half an hour late, to be exact. He wasn't really sure if he should be worried or not. Granted, Serendipity had never struck him as an overwhelmingly punctual person, but under the circumstances... he couldn't help but wonder if he'd been stood up. He returned his stare to the window, surveying the traffic for a familiar face, then scowling when none became apparent. For the second time, he eyed the sign in the back that said "Telephones", but made no move to leave his seat. If he got up, he might miss them coming in, or Serendipity might draw the wrong conclusion. Skinner slowly drummed his fingers against the stained wood of the table. He wasn't nervous, he repeated to himself for the twentieth time. He was... unsettled. It had been an unsettling couple of days, and he was entitled. Suddenly, he stood, rising to his feet with grim determination. To Hell with it, he was going to call.
"Sir?" Skinner looked down, into the eyes of Special Agent Dana Scully. Slightly behind her and to the right stood Agent Mulder. They both looked at him with puzzled expressions, and he realized that they must have thought that he was rising to speak to them. The corners of his lips quirked.
"Sorry about that, Agent Scully. I was just going to make a call."
She returned his half-smile, and moved silently to let him pass. Mulder on the other hand, looked around with interest. "With all due respect, sir, this doesn't really seem like your type of place." He made a small gesture which incorporated the mounted buck's antlers, the smoky air, and the canned Irish reel being piped through tinny speakers. Skinner noticed the look Scully gave her partner, and his pseudo-innocent shrug. Mulder probably though he was meeting Cancerman here. A sudden tickle of amusement surfaced. Why discourage him?
"A friend recommended it." Skinner said, his voice as expressionless as his face. As he'd expected, Mulder's eyes narrowed slightly, and he blissfully ignored the subtle hints Scully was trying to send his way.
Instead, Mulder leaned against the back of an empty booth, the picture of polite interest. "Really? Anyone we know?" Skinner's eyebrows quirked in barely hidden humor. Mulder never had gotten the whole idea of subtlety. Oh well, time to end this, and get rid of the two agents before Serendipity showed up.
"Actually..."
"Damn it, Tom! I *told* you we should have taken Redding! Your 'shortcut' cost us almost an hour." A tall woman with short, dark hair and flashing silver eyes stomped through the doors of the restaurant. Behind her trailed two figures, an elderly woman almost as tall as the first, and... Special Agent Tom Colton, looking rather sheepish.
"Damn," Skinner snapped under his breath, eyeing the other agent. Why was *he* here?
Tom, who was trying desperately to avoid looking at Serendipity, saw Skinner instead, and then Mulder and Scully. His boyishly handsome face darkened. Why were *they* here? He blinked. And why was Serendipity heading that way?
Serendipity crossed the restaurant in long, almost running strides, seeing almost nothing but red... and Walter. Brushing past a vaguely familiar man wearing a suit, she reached Skinner and said in a low, painfully intense voice, "Help me. I'm already thinking about what wine to serve with his liver." She heard a small, muffled noise, and glanced with surprise into the eyes of a very familiar redhead. The other woman was grinning unselfconsciously, her ice blue eyes sparkling. Serendipity smiled back tentatively.
Walter said softly, before Anne and Colton reached them, "Special Agent Murphey, Special Agents Dana Scully and Fox Mulder. Scully, Mulder, meet Serendipity Murphey." They all nodded at each other as Colton and Anne arrived. Anne's eyes traveled speculatively between her daughter and the tall, bald man with the glasses.
Serendipity her mother to everyone, guessing correctly that the rest knew each other. And from the glares that were going around, the others shared her own opinion of Tom Colton. Even Anne had stopped trying to play matchmaker with a sledgehammer. Plus, the arrival of the two new agents provided a possible way out of the mess Colton had put them in. She smiled at Scully, then at Mulder. "Would you like to join us for lunch?" she asked, gallantly ignoring the strangled coughing sounds Walter made.
Mulder's eyes darted around the gathering. This would beat watching the Redskins lose on TV, he figured. "Love to," he said, and grinned at Colton and Skinner's grimaces.
"Mulder..." Skinner and Scully began the sentence at the same time, blinked, and frowned at each other.
"C'mon, guys, it's fate. Now let's get a table." Mulder turned, and headed for the back of the room, conveniently avoiding any reprimands. Muttering under her breath, Scully followed. Anne went next, a bemused grin on her wrinkled face.
Serendipity looked around at Tom, "Too late to back out now, you know. Mother would be *so* disappointed," She waved him forward. He grimaced, but obediently shuffled after the rest, already checking his slightly gaudy watch.
Skinner watched him move, the ghost of a grin on his face. He bent his head to Serendipity's ear. "You do realize that this doesn't change the fact that we've got to talk about this."
"Talk about what? I haven't even seen the menu, yet. Besides, there are some times in life when you should just go with the flow, don't you think?"
"Not usually." He stared back at the table, where Scully and Colton were already arguing over something or another, and Anne had Mulder trapped in a booth, probably grilling him for his life story. If the hunted look on Mulder's face was any guide, at least. "Then again, this could be... interesting."
Serendipity grinned, an expression with more than a touch of evil to it, "My thoughts exactly," She made a sweeping gesture towards the table, "Shall we?"
Skinner nodded. "Let's." They walked forward together.
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