Part Four


Disclaimer and other info in Prologue


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The Thirteen Days Of Christmas-
December 27: St. John the Evangelist's Day


     Scully stood in the slow moving elevator, holding 
the cardboard box tightly in her arms.  Finally, after 
what seemed a long while the elevator doors opened and 
she stepped out of it.  She walked over to the apartment 
door and finding herself unable to get a hand free, 
kicked at it.

     Soon Mulder pulled the door open and Scully 
brushed past him, quickly setting the box down on 
the coffee table.  "Whatcha got there?" Mulder asked.

     Scully shrugged as she sat down on the couch.  
"I don't know.  My mom gave it to me on Christmas, 
she said she'd been cleaning out the attic and she 
wanted me to have it.  I put it in the car but I'd 
totally forgotten about it until today."  Mulder sat 
down next to her as she pried open the cardboard box.  
On top of the box was an old photo album.  She pulled 
the album out and carefully opened it.  "Oh, God no," 
she moaned at the sight of the first page, and slammed 
the album shut again.

     "What's in there?" Mulder asked, his curiosity 
peaked.

     "Nothing!" Scully yelped, a little too quickly 
and loudly to seem like there was nothing there.

     "Scully," Mulder said, getting an evil and 
mischievous glint in his eye.

     "No, Mulder," she said, clutching the album to 
her chest and backing away towards the opposite end 
of the couch.

     Mulder's grin grew wider as he slowly inched 
toward her.  Suddenly he leapt at her in a half 
tackle, making Scully scream.  Her screams quickly 
turned to laughter as Mulder began to tickle her 
sides.  "Stop it!" she laughed, but Mulder didn't 
let up and within seconds he was able to snatch the 
album away from her.  "Give me that!" she cried as 
Mulder quickly turned away from her and opened the 
album.

     His face broke into a grin as he saw the first 
page of baby pictures.  "Now who could this be?" he 
smirked.

     Scully grabbed a pillow off of the couch and 
whacked him on the back of the head with it.  "God, 
this is so embarrassing," she sighed.

     "Why?" Mulder said.  "I've seen you in less 
than that diaper, so what's the problem?"  That 
comment got him another hit with the pillow.  She 
sat up behind him and rested her chin on his shoulder.  
"C'mon, Scully, you were a very cute baby, you have 
nothing to be embarrassed about."

     She wrapped her arms around his waist.  "I 
don't care it's still something I thought would 
never see the light of day ever again."

     "They're just pictures of a baby Scully wrapped 
up in a blanket, there's nothing bad about that," 
Mulder said.

     "Give it a few pages," Scully warned.  "Then 
you'll reach the pictures of me covered in chocolate 
pudding or whatever else I was eating, and the ones 
of Bill and Missy deciding to splash me with 
watercolor paint--"

     "And the inevitable naked baby pictures," Mulder 
cut her off, grinning and looking down at another page.

     Scully growled and reached past him to flip the 
pages.  A few pages she stopped.  "You can continue 
looking here."

      "Any other interesting pictures coming up?" 
Mulder asked with a smile on his face.

      "Not what you consider interesting.  The rest 
is just a bunch of family pictures, some of me with 
my soccer team, little things like that," she said.  
The next hour was spent looking through the rest of 
the photo album with Scully tossing in various stories 
to go along with each picture, and Mulder interjecting 
his own comments.

     When they were finished Scully was leaning back 
against the arm of the couch and Mulder was leaning 
on top of her, his back to her front in a sort of 
spooning position.  "See, that wasn't so bad, now 
was it?" Mulder said.

     "I guess not," Scully reluctantly agreed.  "But 
next time you visit your mother you promise you will 
get some old pictures of yourself, right?" she said.

     Mulder winced, but that was the only way he got 
Scully to let him see all of the pictures, making 
that deal like that.  "Yeah, yeah, I will."  His own 
baby pictures were far from spectactular, he thought 
he looked way too goofy.

     Scully leaned down to whisper in his ear.  
"Because if you don't, I will hunt them down myself 
and have the Gunmen publish them all over the Internet, 
and one of those pictures will mysteriously find itself 
in A.D. Skinner's e-mailbox," she said calmly, but with 
a mixture of mischief in her voice that let him know she 
wasn't kidding.

     "I promise.  The next time I go up there I'll get 
my old pictures and you can look your heart out at 
them," Mulder quickly agreed.

     "Good," Scully smiled.  "Let's see what else 
is in the box," she said.  Mulder grasped the box 
and shifted it onto the floor, giving him easier 
reach into it.  The next thing he pulled out was a 
pile of a soft lemon yellow color.  He handed it up 
to her.  "Now this I recognize," she smiled.  "My 
grandmother knitted it for me while my mom was 
pregnant.  After I was born she personalized it."  
She held a corner of it in front of Mulder's face.  
On there in pink embroidery floss was the words 
'Dana Katherine 2-23-64'.

     "Do you think your mom would ever do anything 
like that?" Mulder asked musingly.  He felt her 
shrug under his back.

     "I don't know, Mom was never one for spending 
time on crafts," Scully said.  She sighed and ran 
her hands down his arms.  "I just..."

     "What?" Mulder questioned softly, angling his 
head back to get a better look at her.

     "It's just...well, I wonder how my mother's 
going to reach when I tell her about Rhiannon.  
I know that we're not going to be able to keep 
her a secret forever, and someday we're going to 
have to face her.  I keep wondering what she'll do.  
I know she'll be angry, but what'll happen after 
that?  Will she practically ban me from the family?  
Will she accept Rhiannon or totally disown her, 
pretend she doesn't even exist?  And I know Mom won't 
take well the facts that one, we're not married, 
hell, she doesn't even know we've been a couple for 
almost three years, and two, we had Rhiannon through 
a surrogate.  My mom's not overly religious, but there 
are some things I don't think she'll take.  And I don't 
want to introduce our daughter to a family that's not 
going to love her."

     Mulder sighed and took her hands in his.  He 
carefully chose his words before he spoke.  "I 
think...that after that December your mom understands 
how much you wanted a child, and that you had one in 
the only way possible, and she'll see how much you 
love your daughter, and she'll know that it's right.  
About the marriage thing...I honestly don't know what 
to do.  I want to marry you someday, you know that, 
but we can't until it's all over.  But when it is 
over, we'll get married and then we'll introduce 
Rhiannon to her together."

     Scully leaned forward and pressed her lips 
to his forehead.  "You're right, we'll do this 
together."  They laid there in comfortable silence 
for the next few minutes, the only sound breaking it 
the sound of their relaxed breathing.  Scully began 
to speak again.  "Do you want to tell your mom the 
same way?" she asked.

     Mulder exhaled sharply.  "I'm not sure I want 
to tell her."

     "Why?"

     "You remember when I was in the hospital this 
past fall.  My mom signed me out of there and 
basically gave Ol' Smokey permission to do whatever 
he wanted with me.  I don't want to take a chance of 
that happening to Rhiannon.  Y'know, in ten years I 
want to be in a park somewhere playing ball with my 
daughter, not watching her get entered into some 
government experimentation program."

     Scully sighed and wrapped her arms around his 
shoulders.  Mulder leaned his own head back to rest 
it against her shoulder.  He turned his head slightly 
and pressed his forehead and nose against her neck.  
"I know," she whispered.  "We'll keep her safe."

     Mulder closed his eyes and burrowed his face 
into Scully's neck.  "There is one person I'd like 
to tell," he said.  "My grandmother, she would be 
ecstatic, I know."

     "She's still alive?" Scully asked.

     "Mm-hmm.  Remember I told you that her father 
was the one who reached a hundred before he died?  
She figures she's got at least a good five years 
left, her words, not mine," Mulder said.

     "Yeah, she sounds like a good person," 
Scully said.

     "She is.  She did more for me than my parents 
ever did, and I guess I'd like to show her that 
something turned out good for me.  That all her work 
wasn't just a waste of time," he said.

     "Mulder, you were never a waste of time," Scully 
grinned.  Mulder moved his head back a little and 
looked up at her with a look of amusement on his 
face.  She leaned down and quickly kissed him, then 
pulled back with a bright smile on her face.  "Mulder, 
could you bring Rhiannon over here?" she asked.  "I 
just feel like holding her."

     "No problem."  He got up off the couch and went 
over to the playpen, where Rhiannon was once again 
sleeping, getting into a napping pattern.  He carefully 
picked her up, trying not to wake her.  Luckily the 
little girl stayed fast asleep as he brought her over 
to Scully.  Scully took the little girl and cradled 
her in her arms.  Mulder slid in behind Scully this 
time and wrapped his arms around both of them.

     "This is right," Scully whispered.  "It's 
right."  She reached over onto the coffee table 
for the Christmas book, taking comfort in her 
tradition.  Mulder kissed the top of her head as 
she opened the book and began to read quietly so 
as not to wake Rhiannon.


          'On Evangelist's Day, the Bishop blessed the
           Gospels in the marketplace, and then they
           were carried in procession round the town.
           The Kitsons, however, slept late and missed
           the ceremony.  It was ten o'clock before
           Prudence woke up.  She slid out of bed, being
           careful not to wake Annaple; pulled on her
           wrapper and slippers; and made her way
           softly downstairs.

              The hall windows were open, and she could
           hear the choirboys chanting in Latin as 
           they turned into Lee Street.  They were
           singing the first chapter of St. John's
           Gospel.  She opened the door and went out
           on the bridge to watch.  The procession was
           just passing the house: She saw the great
           book with its scarlet silk marker and wide,
           decorated margins, and the candles burning
           in their tall sticks, and the small silver
           bell that chimed steadily on a single
           clear note.  Her uncles were pacing along
           behind the choir.  She waved to them 
           cheerfully.  Behind them came the bishop,
           then the mayor who never missed anything,
           then a straggling crowd of children.
           Prudence watched them pass, and then went
           down to the kitchen, made up the fire, and
           hung the kettle on its great iron hook.  
           She was hunting for Annaple's caraway cakes,
           which were gritty and overcooked but better
           than nothing, when there was a ring at the
           door.  She went upstairs again, yawning, 
           and found Francis's third-day presents
           waiting on the bridge...'


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End of Part Four-December 27: St. John The Evangelist's Day