~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Fourth Side of the Triangle
Bill Scully
(with apologies to Ellery Queen)
 
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As Scully Saw It

The most annoying thing about this whole mess is that it was my
brother who caused it.

Mulder and Daniel's relationship was going along quite well, it seemed
to me. They'd recovered from the trouble over the Robert Modell case
(some of which, I freely admit, I caused) and to all appearances, they
were settling into as much domesticity as they could, given that they
couldn't actually live together.

I was pleased and proud to be considered their friend, and if I was
also providing them with a cover story, I didn't especially mind. We
all knew it was happening, and we were able to discuss it openly
amongst ourselves, so it wasn't actually a case of my being used; it
was a case of my being able to give them something that they needed
very much.

Actually, I don't mind it at all. I love them both, although in very
different ways, and they are so good for each other that anything I
can do to help them stay together is just fine with me.

Oh, all right, it's fun, too, in an evil sort of way. The prim, proper
Agent Dana Scully doesn't get to be evil very often.

You see, the people at Bethesda Naval Hospital think I'm seeing
Daniel, their staff orthopedic surgeon, while people at the Bureau
think I'm seeing Mulder. There are a few people who are convinced that
I'm seeing both of them at the same time. 

Those people always seem extremely puzzled if they encounter all three
of us together, at lunch, for example, because we all get along so
very well. Visions of menage a trois no doubt flit through their
minds.

That, we have never even considered, although there have been a few
moments that -- although they were entirely platonic -- came fairly
close to that.

My favorite such moment was late last summer, when Mulder managed to
elude his bad memories long enough to reopen his father's house in
West Tisbury, on Martha's Vineyard. He grew up on the Vineyard, about
six miles away in Chilmark, and since his father's death he's
expressed no interest at all in going back there.

But Daniel has healed a lot of the wounded places in Mulder's soul,
and at last Mulder agreed to spend a week there at the end of the
season, when the island was less crowded. 

To my surprise, they wanted me to come along.

I protested, of course. This was supposed to be their time together,
and they have precious little of that, but they both insisted.

"It won't be any fun at all if you're not there, Dana," Daniel said,
as we discussed it over lasagna and garlic bread at my apartment one
Friday night. "You've got to come."

"Yeah, Scully, you've gotta be there," Mulder said. "You haven't taken
a real vacation since you joined the X Files, and that's almost four
years ago. Besides, if you don't go, people are going to think Daniel
and I are banging each other."

"There's a reason for that, Mulder," I said. He is so juvenile
sometimes. "You are, as you put it, banging each other."

"Scully, please. It sounds so crude on the lips of a lady," Mulder
said in a mock-wounded tone, but he had that yes-I'm-misbehaving grin
on his face.

I didn't answer him; I just raised my eyes to heaven in my best what-
am-I-going-to-do-with-you look and heaved a dramatic sigh. 

Daniel chuckled; he enjoys watching Mulder and me at our verbal
fencing matches, which, I'm sorry to say, I'm usually forced to
concede to Mulder. 

His point made, Mulder returned to his cajoling. "Come on, say you'll
do it," he said, putting a hand on my arm. He knows that gets to me.
"Really, we do want you there. No kidding around."

I didn't answer right away; I poured myself another glass of Chianti
and sipped it while I thought it over. They would want to be alone
together, but I supposed I could arrange to go shopping or walking on
the beach or something, and it would be nice to spend some downtime
with them.

Well, to be honest, it was mostly Mulder I wanted some downtime with.
No matter how much I have come to love Daniel, or how strong the bonds
are between us, the thing that really binds us together is that we're
both in love with Fox Mulder.

Now, of course, that's not a secret from any of the three of us, and
we've all adjusted to it as well as could be expected, but it's always
going to be a consideration when we have to decide who's going to be
spending time with whom.

Finally, I put down my glass. It was silly to deprive myself of a free
beach vacation and the company of my favorite people simply because
there might be a few awkward moments. There always were awkward
moments, but they were getting fewer and further between, and we had
ways of dealing with them.

So just be honest, Dana, I told myself. They deserve that.

"Guys, the truth is, I would love to go," I said. "But if I start to
get in your way, if you need me to get out of the house so you can be
alone, please just tell me. All right?"

"We'll tell you, Scully, but that's not going to happen," Mulder said.
As always, he was far too confident for his own good. How the man
managed to get by for 30-some-odd years without me, I'll never know:
Perhaps it has something to do with the irritating fact that he's
often right.

That settled it. Mulder and I went to the Vineyard early on the
following Friday, and opened up the house, aired it, dusted it and got
it in habitable shape. It really was a nice house, with a wide porch,
large, airy rooms, and a beautiful view of the island. It wasn't near
the shore, although that's a relative matter. Everything on Martha's
Vineyard is close enough to the seashore to walk if you're in any kind
of shape at all. 

When Daniel arrived that evening, I had a nice dinner waiting for all
of us; nothing fancy, just my usual pasta and salad, although that
always gets raves from the guys. We sat around the table and ate,
drank good wine, talked and laughed; after dinner, we moved to the
living room. 

Daniel laid a fire to drive away the early fall chill, then stretched
out on the sofa with his head in Mulder's lap. That was nice; Daniel
used to be so reticent, even around me. I was very glad to see how
much more relaxed he had become in my presence.

I sat on the floor and rested my head on Mulder's knee. Mulder had one
hand in Daniel's hair, the other in mine. I took Daniel's hand, and
our little circle was complete. No one was left out; no one was
missing. We were at peace with each other and with ourselves. 

We made the most of it, too; we talked and laughed and told stories
for hours. At one point, Mulder was telling us about something funny
his grandmother had done at Passover one year, and right in the middle
he got very quiet.

"What's wrong, Fox?" Daniel asked.

Mulder shrugged. "That was the year I turned 12," he said, with a sort
of apologetic smile.

Of course, Daniel and I both knew what that meant. It was the last
Passover his family had spent together before Samantha disappeared. 

I put my hand on his knee, hugging him just a little, and Daniel sat
up and kissed Mulder -- not like he usually does, but gently, and very
sweetly -- and then he put his arms around Mulder, who laid his head
on Daniel's shoulder, and Daniel held him close. 

I felt Mulder's hand tangling itself more firmly into my hair.

Mulder always thinks he's getting more out of our relationship than
Daniel and I are. It's times like that I know that he's not.

We sat there in a companionable sort of silence after that, just
watching the fire. It was heavenly.

But it always is, when we're all together like that. We all complete
each other in so many ways, and if the bonds between Daniel and me
aren't as strong as those between Daniel and Mulder, or Mulder and me,
well, they're there, nonetheless. 

We long ago accepted that it takes both of us to love Fox Mulder the
way he needs to be loved.

We take care of each other too, Daniel and I, all except for that one
little thing, and that is the one thing that neither he nor Mulder can
give me. I prefer to wait until Mulder and I are in the field to take
care of that.

For everything else, Daniel and Mulder are my guys: both of them.

After a while, the guys got up to go to bed. I got sweet good-night
kisses from both of them.

Mulder, unlike Daniel, has never in his life kissed a woman with the
intent to arouse her and his kisses are delivered with far less
finesse than Daniel's. They're tender and loving, but almost chaste,
with no sense of urgency or demand, no hint of wanting more. 

But Mulder's kisses carry so much more emotional weight with me that
the overall result is pretty much the same: I get extremely turned on.
I'd have to say it's a toss-up as to which of them is better at doing
that.

It's never a toss-up whose kiss I'd rather have, though. Mulder wins
that one in a walk. A touch of his hand, an embrace, a smile --
anything physical from Mulder goes straight to my soul, and no wonder:
He is the other half of my soul.

I told them I was going for a walk on the beach. I wanted them to be
able to be together without having to worry about whether I'd hear. 

I didn't mind hearing; actually, just the opposite. Their enjoyment of
each other is arousing in a way I'd never expected it would be, but I
don't want to violate their privacy or inhibit their pleasure.

Mulder made a face. "You be careful, Scully," he said. "The Vineyard's
a pretty quiet place, but that doesn't mean it's perfectly safe for a
woman to be out at night by herself."

"Mulder, you know I'm armed," I told him, rolling my eyes at his
mother-hen attitude. "Will you please quit worrying?"

Daniel's eyebrows went up at that. I don't think he's ever really
gotten used to the idea that his two closest companions carry guns,
but we do, unless we're asleep or in the shower. Even then, we keep
our weapons close at hand. You never know when you might need a gun in
our business.

Mulder is used to it, of course. He just nodded. "Take your phone,
too," he said, and kissed me again, even as he was putting his arm
around Daniel to take him to bed.

I went for my walk. It was dark but not frightening. The Vineyard was
quiet, the stars were out, and I could hear, not too far off, the
sound of the waves crashing against the shore. It was the kind of
place people call paradise, but it had stopped being that for Mulder a
long time ago. Perhaps it never would be; or perhaps, with Daniel's
help, it could at least be home again.

I tried to imagine what it was like for him to grow up in this lovely
place in the shadow of his missing sister. I couldn't. I have never
been able to picture what that would be like. My sister is dead, but
at least I know that. Mulder has never known what happened to
Samantha. I wonder sometimes whether he ever will; I still hope for
him, but I can't quite believe.

After walking around for about an hour, I went back to the house. It
was dark and quiet. They were asleep.

I was exhausted from the cleaning and the long walk, and still just a
little tipsy from the dinner wine. I pulled off my shoes, socks and
jeans, pulled off my bra without taking off my T-shirt, and collapsed
across the bed -- the same bed that used to be the sleeping place of a
confused and miserably grief-stricken 12-year-old boy.

~~~~~

I woke up early the next morning -- I never really sleep late unless
I'm at home in my own bed -- and started making breakfast. The guys
were still asleep. I could tell; they were both snoring. 

I've always thought that was one of the funniest things about their
relationship. Two snorers in the same bed. My God, how do they ever
sleep?

After an hour or so, though, I was getting restless. I put on a fresh
pot of coffee and knocked on their door. The snores faded away, and I
heard Mulder's sleepy, "Come in, Scully."

I opened the door. There they were, flopped out on the bed, both in
boxers and T-shirts -- but that was okay, I mean, I was still in my T-
shirt and panties. I long ago stopped noticing whether I was decently
clad in their presence; God knows they don't notice.

"Are you two going to sleep all day?" I said, putting my hands on my
hips in mock annoyance. "I've made two pots of coffee so far, and I
drank the first one all by myself. I am ready to get moving,
gentlemen."

Daniel just grunted and pulled the pillow over his head -- he's not a
morning person at all -- but Mulder just smiled and sat up, raking the
hair out of his eyes with his left hand the way he always does.

"Come on, Scully, we're on vacation," he said. His sleepy voice never
fails to make me feel just a touch warmer. "You ought to just go back
to bed and sleep a while longer."

"After three cups of coffee? Not a chance," I said. I grabbed the
pillow from Daniel's head. 

"Come on, Reilly, you're supposed to be the sensible one in this duo,"
I said. "I want to go to the beach, and I don't want to go by myself
this time."

"God, I feel like I'm back in officer indoctrination school," Daniel
groaned, flopping around in what he must have assumed was a heart-
rending fashion. "Have a little pity, Dana."

"I have no pity for lazy, good-for-nothing officers," I said, in my
best drill instructor voice. "If Uncle Sam wanted you to sleep, he
wouldn't have allowed God to create a 24-hour day."

"Fox, for Christ's sake, can't you do something with this woman?"
Daniel complained, rising up on one elbow.

Mulder was watching all this with great amusement; actually, he seemed
to be on the verge of giggling, not that I've ever heard him giggle.

"I've never been able to do anything with her," he said, and the
laughter finally escaped him. "Dana, are you going to lie down or am I
going to have to whip your ass for you?"

Dana? He almost never calls me Dana, and I couldn't figure out what
had led him to do it right now. I can only guess that he was trying to
get me off my guard, because as I stood pondering the name question,
he reached out fast as lightning, grabbed my wrist and pulled me down.
I lost my balance and fell with a mighty thud right into the space
between him and Daniel.

"Mulder, let me go!" I protested, trying to struggle out of his grip,
but I was starting to laugh. It was kind of funny, after all.

"Not until you agree to go back to sleep," he said. "Come on, Daniel,
you're the one who wanted to sleep. You have to help me here; Scully's
been known to shoot."

Daniel rolled over and wrapped his arms around my waist. "Okay, I've
got her," he said. "Now what?"

"What's now is that _I_ whip some serious ass," I warned, trying to
twist away from them, but I was laughing so hard there was no chance I
would succeed. 

Anyway, they're both a lot bigger than me. 

"Let me go right now, or else ..." I said, trying to sound
threatening. 

"Or else what?" Mulder said, quite calmly.

"Or else I'm going to shoot you both -- DANIEL, STOP THAT RIGHT
NOW!!!!" I shrieked as I felt his fingers tickling my underarm. 

"Not until you agree to lie down and go back to sleep," he said, but
he actually backed off. Daniel doesn't have a cruel bone in his body.
"Are you ready to say uncle?"

I wiggled around half-heartedly but there was no escaping; I didn't
really want to, anyway.

"Uncle," I sighed, and immediately they loosened their grip on me. I
sank back against the pillows, with Daniel on my right and Mulder on
my left. 

"You guys don't fight fair," I said, looping one arm around each of
them.

"Ah, if you fight fair, you're apt to lose, Scully," Mulder said. He
pulled the covers up over all three of us, and then I felt his hand on
my bare stomach, his fingers warm against my skin. As always, his
touch made me feel a little fluttery inside.

"Come on, you lost," he was saying. "That means you have to go back to
sleep."

"Yeah, and the sooner the better," Daniel said.

"You won, guys," I said, "but I'm warning you, I'm not going to sleep
a wink." I gave each of them a kiss and snuggled down between them.

Daniel wrapped his arm around my waist, right up against my skin, and
pulled me closer to him so that we were spooned together. Mulder
scooted up under us and put his arm under my neck -- and Daniel's --
and held us both.

I laid my head on Mulder's shoulder and my hand on his chest, right
over his heart. He covered my hand with his and curled his fingers
around mine.

The bed was warm and the sheets were warm and my guys were warm and
their arms and legs were warm and everywhere around me. I felt like
the filling in a very nice Scully Sandwich, and I liked it. 

If it sounds weird, I'm sorry, but there's just no feeling like being
curled up in bed in the arms of two men who love you, and each other,
and to know that any one of you would willingly die to protect the
others. I never felt quite so small, so safe or so loved in my entire
life, and I amazed myself by going back to sleep as I lay there
between them. 

Around mid-morning we got up, I made fresh coffee and we went down to
the beach and played Frisbee all afternoon.

~~~~~

What, you were expecting to hear that we got into some hot, kinky sex?

I told you: We don't do that. And anyway, you weren't paying
attention. These guys are gay. G-A-Y. Homosexual. Six out of six on
the Kinsey scale. They don't have sex with women; they have no
interest in it, not even with me, even though they both love me very
much.

Well -- there was that time when my brother caused all the trouble.
But that wasn't sex.

Not exactly, anyway.

~~~~~

It was at my apartment, once again after dinner. For some reason --
either because they were tired, or because the wine was better than
usual -- Mulder and Daniel both felt they shouldn't try to drive home.

I offered to drive them, but Daniel said he didn't want me driving all
the way to Baltimore at that hour, and they seldom slept over at
Mulder's apartment. There was too much chance that someone who knew
Daniel would see them and realize what was going on.

I said I would drive them to Baltimore and then stay at my mom's, but
when I called her house all I got was the answering machine. 

So I offered them my bedroom; I said I would sleep on the couch.

That got some protests, too.

"Look, guys," I said, getting a little exasperated. "Either you let me
drive you home or you stay here, but if you stay here you've got to
take the bed. There's barely room for one of you on the couch, let
alone both of you."

They accepted, not all that reluctantly, I guess, and went to bed
pretty soon afterward. I stayed up, watching television with the
volume up just high enough so that I couldn't hear them but not high
enough to draw angry complaints from the neighbors. Around midnight I
drifted off to sleep.

In the morning, I got up and made the coffee. Funny, isn't it, how
even with two intelligent, reasonably enlightened gay men for company,
a woman can find herself doing most of the traditional female jobs? 

As I sat at my desk, drinking my coffee and checking my e-mail, I
heard a car pull up out front. I looked out, mostly from idle
curiosity -- I wasn't expecting anyone -- and saw my big brother Bill
getting out of the car.

Oh, shit. I thought he was at sea. I did not need him to be here; Bill
is a hard-liner all the way and a world-class homophobe. "Don't ask,
don't tell," makes him sick to his stomach, and he's proud to say so. 

Sometimes I think maybe sailors are particularly prone to that sort of
hatred. It's not a joke: All those months at sea, and they'll find
themselves thinking about it, maybe just this once ... and then they
begin to loathe the men who might make themselves available for it.

That's sad all by itself, but it was going to be tragic if Bill walked
in and found Daniel and Mulder in bed together. He, of course, had met
Daniel; the Navy's not _that_ big, and officers with any rank at all
usually encounter each other at some point in their careers. 

I asked Daniel about my family the day I met him, and he said he'd met
Bill and Ahab and had actually served on a destroyer with Charlie.
That was just a tie between us; he knew I wasn't going to out him.

But Bill would. Not because of Mulder: He hates the FBI, but he really
doesn't really give a damn how many gay agents there are, because the
FBI's problems are its own as far as he's concerned. He also hates
Mulder, mostly because he knows Mulder's gay, although heaven knows he
has other reasons, which he will recite for anyone at the drop of a
hat.

But the Navy ... the Navy is his family, his heritage, almost his
whole world. And he would certainly out anyone in the Navy he thought
was gay, whether that person was my friend or not. Oh, yes, he would,
and in a heartbeat.

There wasn't much time left to prevent a disaster, and only one way I
could think of to prevent it. I jumped up and ran into the bedroom; I
didn't even stop to knock.

Mulder woke up immediately, a little puzzled by the intrusion.
"Scully, what are you doing?" he said, sleepily, raising himself on
one elbow. Daniel, of course, was still sound asleep -- the H-bomb
hadn't gone off, and nothing less would wake him on a Saturday
morning.

I only had a nanosecond to decide which of these guys my brother was
going to catch me with. I wanted it to be Mulder; I would have given
my hope of heaven for a chance to lie naked in bed with him, but I
knew Bill had no illusions about Mulder's sexuality. If he found us in
bed together, he would know we were covering for Daniel.

Whereas if he found me with Daniel ... it just might work.

"Mulder, get out of here," I hissed, urgently. "Go lie down on the
couch and try to act like you're asleep."

"What the hell's going on?" he said, and then we both heard the knock
at my door. I was in a near panic.

"Mulder, don't ask any more questions, please," I begged. "Just go,
now!"

He got up, grabbing his clothes from the floor, and went. He and I
communicate so well; he knew I had a good reason for what I was asking
him to do and that this, whatever it was, was serious.

I couldn't figure out exactly what to do next; instinct of some kind,
I suppose, just took over. I grabbed my T-shirt by the hem and
practically ripped it from my body. After a moment's hesitation, I
jerked my panties down over my hips, stepped out of them, pulled back
the covers and leapt into the bed with Daniel, who was as naked as the
day he was born.

Add "the feeling of a strange body next to his" to the list of things
that will wake Daniel Reilly up. Oh, boy, did it. His eyes flew open
and he sat bolt upright in bed. 

"Jesus Christ, Dana, what are you doing?" he practically sputtered,
looking around wildly -- looking for Mulder, I'm sure.

"Daniel, I don't have time to explain," I whispered harshly. My terror
only grew as I heard Mulder opening the door, and Blustering Bill
shouldering his way into my apartment. "Just be quiet and play along,
all right?" I said, more quietly. "Please, Daniel, trust me: You have
to do this."

"Dana," Daniel said, and then stopped as he heard Bill's voice from
the living room.

"What the hell are you doing here, Mulder?" Bill was saying. 

"I was sleeping, until you woke me," Mulder answered. 

There was a short silence, during which I can only assume that Bill
took in the meaning of the blanket and pillows on my sofa. 

"Where's Dana?" he said, a little angrily. "She in her room?"

"Yes, but I wouldn't go in there if I were you," Mulder said, and I
practically giggled. If he wanted Bill to come blustering in here,
that was the way to make him do it.

Which, of course, Mulder knew perfectly well.

"This is it, Daniel," I said, very quietly. "Showtime." 

With that, I wrapped my arms around him and planted a wet, wide-open-
mouthed kiss right on his lips.

He jumped a little, but as I said, Daniel was married once, and he
does know how to do this. He put his arms around me and rolled over on
top of me, and then his hands were in my hair and he was kissing me
back quite competently. Daniel is actually quite a talented kisser,
probably because he was married once. His kisses are normally very
gentle, not demanding, but I would call them seductive if I thought he
really wanted anything from me.

He doesn't want anything, of course. It's just how he learned to kiss
women, and God knows it's fine with me.

But you would never have known that from the way he was kissing me
then. This was not a gentle good-night kiss: This was the kiss of a
lover hungry for his beloved.

If he was acting, he was doing a very good job of it, and oh, my God,
it felt good: incredibly good, incredibly erotic. 

I had never dreamed that anything like this could happen, or that I
could want it so much. I never imagined that I would ever hold my
sweet Daniel like a lover, that I would feel his weight on me, feel
his body against mine, feel his kiss in a way I'd never felt it
before.

If I'd ever had any doubts whether I loved Daniel for himself and not
just because he was Mulder's partner, they were gone in that moment. 

Yes, I knew we were supposed to be play-acting, and that the erection
Daniel was sporting was just the normal, physiological erection every
man has when he wakes up. Still, I found myself hoping that he could
feel in our brief, incomplete physical connection, just how safe I
felt in his arms, how much I have come to trust him, how much I have
come to love him.

And, honesty compels me to add, how much I wanted him.

Daniel is, after all, an incredibly attractive man, and he does have a
way with women. In fact, I was getting just a little bit wet, and the
way we were lying, it was entirely possible that Daniel could tell.

For the first time, I found myself feeling just the tiniest bit
envious of Mulder.

Of course, just at that moment, Bill muscled his way past Mulder
(which he couldn't have done if Mulder hadn't let him, but let's let
him have his illusions, shall we?) and threw open my bedroom door.

The silence that followed was absolutely priceless. Daniel rolled off
me and I sat up, pulling the sheet up -- although not so quickly that
Bill couldn't see that, yes, indeed, we were naked -- and stared at my
brother as though I was startled out of my wits. I wasn't, of course.
Scared to death, yes, but not startled. 

"Bill, what do you mean by bursting in here like that?" I demanded.

Bill stood there open-mouthed, gaping. Mulder was behind him, almost
convulsed with laughter. I was a nervous wreck, clutching the sheet
and shaking all over. Daniel was the only one who seemed calm.

"Commander Scully," he said politely. "Good to see you again."

If I hadn't known better, I would have sworn I heard a giggle coming
from my living room.

~~~~~

Long story short: Bill backed out of the bedroom, red-faced,
stammering an apology, and sat fuming in my living room while I got
dressed. 

Daniel came out with me, dressed in some of Mulder's extra clothes,
with his uniform over his arm. He seemed completely at ease, and I
blessed him for his composure.

Mulder left first, shaking Daniel's hand and saying it was good to see
him again, and apologizing to me for having gotten so drunk last
night. Bill stubbornly refused to rise from the sofa or even to look
at Mulder, which amused us all.

Daniel left next. He put his hand on the back of my head and kissed me
the way you'd kiss a lover. 

"Thank you, Dana," he said, looking into my eyes, and then he put his
lips next to my ear and his voice dropped to a whisper. "And thanks
very much for the compliment."

I looked up at him, and he had this all-too-knowing smile on his face,
and I couldn't help it: I blushed. I actually blushed. 

I guess he did notice, after all.

He kissed me again, shook Bill's hand with just exactly the right
we're-all-men-of-the-world air, and then he left.

Bill, it turned out, had come to get me and take me to Mom's for an
impromptu welcome home party. He was on temporary assignment with the
Atlantic fleet, and the ship had arrived home early; she had gone to
the dock last night to get him, and he was staying with her until he
could catch a hop back to San Diego, his regular duty station.

I told him, with all the coolness I could muster, that I would be
delighted to join them but would he please call me next time before
coming over?

He grunted. That was a yes, for those of you who don't speak William
Scully.

I thought I'd handled everything so well.

The one thing I didn't count on was that Bill would tell Mom what
happened.

Now, Mom not only gives me endless lectures about the dangers of sex
with bisexual men -- she knows about Daniel and Mulder, of course --
but she never misses a chance to tell me about some low-down, dirty,
good-for-nothing who came to grief because she stole a friend's lover.

I've had almost three months of these lectures. And I'm tired of them,
but I can't make her stop. I've told her the truth, and I keep telling
her over and over, but that only stops her for a little while. Then
the lectures start up again.

Apparently Daniel's acting -- and his physiology -- were entirely too
good, and Bill's recitation entirely too accurate, for Mom to feel
absolutely certain that it was really just a cover-up. She wants to
believe me, but she's my mom: She worries about me. And when Mom's
worried, everyone involved is going to know it.

I reported all this to Daniel and Mulder, of course, and they just
laughed their heads off. They think it's funny as hell.

Of course, they've never been subjected to the patented Maggie Scully
morality lecture series.

"Think of the whole thing as an important learning experience," Daniel
advised. "As far as your mother goes, well, I think it's kind of
cute."

Yeah. Cute. He thinks it's cute.

I'm glad somebody does.

Next time, I swear, those two are on their own. I don't care how much
they beg or plead or cajole, I will not give in.

They can get up and make their own damn coffee. I'm sleeping in.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~