TITLE: What's in a Name
AUTHOR: Katriena Knights
E-MAIL: krknights@bwn.net
WEBSITE: http://www.bewellweb.com/dknights/Fanfic.html,
http://www.bewellweb.com/dknights/kkpage.html
RATING: PG (language)
CATEGORY: S R H
KEYWORDS: MSR, Sc/M-POV
SPOILERS: Season 8 (Post-Existence)
ARCHIVE: Ephemeral/Gossamer - yes
          Others - with permission



WHAT'S IN A NAME?
Katriena Knights

Dana Scully maneuvered her baby's carrier out of the back seat of her 
car and hauled it up the steps to her mother's front door.  The 
convertible carrier/carseat was handy, but heavy.  She hadn't realized 
how heavy until now.  Mulder usually carried it.

  Her mom met her with a bright smile, which Dana returned, hefting the 
carrier in through the front door.  William slept on, in spite of the 
movement, or perhaps because of it.

  "He's so beautiful," Margaret said, smiling down at her newest 
grandson.  The "how" of William seemed to matter very little to Margaret 
now he was here.  He was a grandson and needed to be spoiled, and she 
attended to that duty with gusto every time she saw him.  Dana had even 
brought bottles today, knowing her mother would insist on feeding 
William at least once.

  "You said that last time," Dana said as her mother swept up the 
carrier, taking it into the living room with considerably less effort 
than Dana had expended.

  "It's still true."  She looked back at her daughter, then suddenly 
past her, as if realizing something.  "Where's Fox?"

  "I left him at home asleep.  He was up all night trying to get William 
to sleep."

  Margaret gave her daughter a wise look.  "He's living at your place now?"

  Dana shrugged.  It wasn't a big deal.  "More or less."

  "I see."

  Dana rolled her eyes.  "Mom, what?"

  Margaret sat on the couch, putting William and his carrier on the 
floor next to her feet.  "You still haven't officially told me who the 
father of this adorable baby is."

  Dana sat down next to her mother.  "Mom, take a long, hard look at 
that baby and then see if you can ask me that question with a straight 
face."

  Margaret's eyebrows rose, but she craned her head sideways, peering 
down at William with an expression that edged away from grandmotherly 
devotion into serious analysis.  "Well . . .   He has your red hair . . 
."  She stopped, looking from Dana to William and back again.  "But 
that's definitely not your nose."

  Dana shook her head sagely.  "No, it isn't.  Have you seen that nose 
before, Mom?"

  Margaret's face softened and she looked into her daughter's face with 
a gentle smile.  "So, just a normal, everyday baby after all."

  Dana nodded.  "As normal and everyday as can be expected, considering 
his parents."

Margaret touched her daughter's knee.  "I'm happy for you, Dana."

"Are you?  Really and truly?"  Suddenly her mother's approval seemed 
profoundly important.

"Yes.  Really and truly."  She took her daughter in her arms and held 
her, and Dana let all her doubts about the future disappear in the 
comfort of her mother's embrace.

#

  Mulder woke abruptly and stared at the clock.  Eleven-thirty.  They'd 
planned to leave for Scully's mom's house at eleven.  He rolled over. 
Scully was gone.  So was William.

  Startled at the turn of events, he sat up.  Then he saw the note on 
Scully's pillow.

  _Sleepyhead.  Left without you.  Call me when you wake up.  Thanks for 
last night.  S._

  What in the world had he done last night, except pace for hours with 
William on his shoulder while Scully slept?  He didn't feel that was 
above or beyond the call of duty.

  He shaved, showered, dressed, and called, listening to the ringing in 
trepidation, afraid Bill might pick up.  Bill was supposed to be there, 
after all.  But Margaret's voice greeted him and passed him on to Scully.

  "I told Mom you'd be late.  You'll still make it in time for lunch."

  "Is your brother there?"

  "Yes, he's here.  He brought a rifle and a baseball bat.  Just get 
over here, Mulder."

  She thought she was pretty damn funny, that one.  Mulder's own 
influence rubbing off on her, no doubt.  He threw on a jacket and headed 
out the door.

#

  By the time he got there, they were all gathered in the living room, 
cooing over the baby while Margaret fed him a bottle.  Bill's wife, 
Tara, looked up with a warm smile as Margaret escorted him into the 
room, but Bill's regard was, as usual, chilly.  Their son, Matthew, 
involved in a pile of Legos, seemed uninterested.

  "You all remember Fox," Margaret said as Mulder made his way to safe 
haven on the couch next to Scully.  Bill's gaze followed him, then went 
back and forth between his face and the baby's a few times. _Yeah, the 
kid's got my nose.  So sue me._

  Margaret positioned herself in front of the small group, obviously 
preparing to make an announcement.  "Dinner won't be until one thirty. 
That's because we have to wait for Charles."

  Scully's face lit up like a Christmas tree.  "Charlie's coming?"

  "Yes, he is."

  She grasped Mulder's hand, squeezing it.  "That's so great!"

  Mulder smiled wanly back at her.  _Great.  Another brother to hate me._

  "Well, he couldn't miss the chance to meet his new nephew."

  "Will he get any more answers than the rest of us?" Bill said.  Tara 
gave him a sharp look.

  "Give it a rest, Bill," said Scully.  Margaret sat down in a chair, 
watching her children with trepidation.

  Tension hung in the air until Tara gently cleared her throat.  "So, 
Dana, what's the baby's middle name?"

  "Or his last name, for that matter," Bill put in.

  Scully glared at Bill.  "His name is William Fox Mulder, and if that 
doesn't answer enough of your questions, then I don't know what will."

  Mulder leaned into Scully, pressing his shoulder against hers, and 
mumbled, "I thought you were going to use your last name."  And she 
hadn't mentioned the "Fox"
thing at all.  He would have done his damnedest to nix it if she had.

  Her sparking eyes didn't waver from her brother's.  "I changed my mind."

  "Okay."  This seemed like an opportune time for Mulder to shut up.  He 
peered down at his hands for a moment, then looked up to find Bill 
lacerating him with a glare.

  "So, _Fox_," Bill said.  "How about some hoops?"

  Mulder matched his look, suddenly very still.  The set of Bill's body 
offered a challenge his words did not, and Mulder knew he couldn't 
afford not to take it.  "Sure."

  Dana watched them not quite stalk out the door, and rolled her eyes at 
her mother.  "Do you have any air freshener?  This room reeks of 
testosterone."

  Margaret smiled, but only a little.  "They're both very proud men. 
They'll have to work it out, if Fox is going to be part of the family."

  Dana sank back into the couch.  "You know he hates to be called Fox, 
don't you?"

  The smile edged toward a smirk.  "I know."

#

  Bill Scully wasn't the greatest basketball player, Mulder determined, 
dribbling the ball neatly past him and scoring yet another 
picture-perfect lay-up.  He could feel the anger building in his 
opponent, and knew he should back off, but he couldn't bring himself to. 
  Yeah, Bill had good reason to dislike Mulder, but it was time to let 
that shit go.

  Bill had the ball now and dribbled it slowly, standing near the far 
end of the driveway, regarding his opponent.  Mulder waited, knowing 
Bill was using the delay to catch his breath.

  "So," Bill finally said, "what do you intend to do about this situation?"

  "What situation is that?"

  "Let's see.  Apparently you got my sister pregnant, and now you're 
unemployed, living in her house, eating her food, and generally taking 
advantage of her in every
way possible."

  Mulder shook his head.  "Scully was right.  You did show up with a 
rifle and a baseball bat."

  "I've said it before and I'll say it again.  You are a piece of work." 
  He began to move, dribbling toward Mulder.  Mulder tracked his moves 
closely.  Bill was bigger than he was, but Mulder was faster.

  "I'm sorry, Bill, but I don't see what the problem is."

  "Of course you wouldn't.  Everything always works out to your 
advantage, doesn't it?"  He made a break then, barreling toward the 
basket, going for the shot.  It bounced off the rim and Mulder scooped 
it out of the air.

  "Let's see.  My sister was kidnapped and murdered by government 
agents, my dad got shot in the head by the same, my partner almost died 
of cancer--"  He was working up an inappropriately intense head of 
steam, but he wasn't going to stop now.  "--my mom _killed_ herself last 
year, then I was abducted and I was frigging _dead_ for four months 
after being tortured for weeks on end, then when I got back they asked 
me could I please leave the FBI forever.  How is that working out to my 
advantage?"

  "It's a sad story, isn't it?"  Bill moved to intercept Mulder's shot, 
missed by a mile.  The ball rolled around the rim and dropped through. 
"Even if only half of it's
true."

  Mulder collected the ball and threw it at him, hard.  Bill caught it 
with a grunt.

  "It's all true, you bastard.  What the hell do you want from me?"

  "I want you out of Dana's life."

  "I don't think that's what she wants."

  "I don't think she knows what she wants.  She's been around you for so 
long you've twisted her all up so she can't even think straight any more."

  This was ridiculous.  "Okay, fine.  So where the hell have you been? 
You act like you're Scully's big protector, but where the hell have you 
been?  Who dragged his sorry ass halfway across the world to Antarctica 
to save her life?  Who told them to put that chip back in her neck?  And 
who made sure she got to the hospital after her baby was born?  Not you, 
buddy.  Me.  If anybody's Scully's protector, it's me."

  Bill's face had turned alarmingly red.  "Scully," he said, his voice 
dripping with resentment.

  He threw the ball back to Mulder, too hard, too fast, and right at 
Mulder's face.

#

  Dana, nervous about leaving Bill and Mulder alone for any length of 
time, had been watching the "friendly" game through the kitchen window 
while she peeled potatoes.  So she saw the basketball smash into 
Mulder's face, saw the blood fly.

  "Oh, my God," she said, throwing the potato peeler into the sink.  She 
ran for the front door.  Margaret ran after her, William in her arms. 
Tara trailed after with Matthew.

  When she got to the driveway Mulder was half bent over, hands over his 
face, blood pouring between his fingers.  Dana ran to him, barely 
pausing to shove her brother, hard, on her way by.  "What the hell did 
you do?"  She knelt next to Mulder, peeling his fingers back.

  "Shit," said Mulder.  "Shit, shit . . ."  Matthew's little feet 
stopped at the edge of the driveway.  " . . . shoot, darn it . . . This 
really _hurts_, Scully."

  Margaret fished the drool-catching cloth diaper out from under William 
and handed it to Dana, who pressed it to Mulder's nose.  Holding the 
blood back, she found the bone and wiggled it gently.  "It's not broken. 
  Let's get you cleaned up."

  Inside, she sat him down in a chair in the middle of the kitchen and 
mopped up the blood with washcloths until it finally stopped.  The 
others gathered around in a circle, watching.  It was like being in an 
operating theater, she thought wryly.  But nobody said anything until 
the bleeding had stopped and Mulder was holding an ice pack to his face, 
the skin around his eyes already beginning to color up.  Then Tara 
turned to her husband.

  "I hope you know you look like an utter jackass now."

  Bill said nothing.

  "Apologize, Bill," Margaret snapped.

  Mulder lifted a hand.  "A forced apology isn't going to help anything. 
  We need to get this straightened out or Christmas is going to be hell."

  Bill's mouth tightened.  "You plan to be around for Christmas?"

  "I plan to be around for a long time."

  "Unemployed and living off my sister."

  "Bill--"  Dana started, but Mulder cut her off with a movement of his 
hand.  She backed off.  This had to be his fight.

  "Not that this is any of your damned business, but I have some money 
socked away.  I didn't live in that piece of . . . crap apartment all 
that time for nothing.  Scully and I have an agreement.  After her 
maternity leave's over, she's going to go back to Quantico to teach and 
I'm going to stay home with William for a while."

  "Why?"  Bill made the single word a challenge.

  "Why?" Mulder sputtered.  "Because I like to watch Oprah.  What kind 
of a question is that?"

  "Why are you doing this?  Why are you acting like you're some kind of 
happy little family?"

  Mulder shook his head.  "God, Bill, are you blind?  He's my son."  He 
pointed at William and then at his own bruised and bloody nose.  Dana 
put her hand over her mouth, not sure if the sound trying to come out 
was a laugh or a sob.

  "So that's it?  You feel a responsibility to the baby?"

  Dana eyed her brother intently, not sure where Bill was going or why 
it was so dreadfully important to him.  She'd understood Bill's dislike 
of Mulder before, but this was something different.

  "Yes, I feel a responsibility to the baby.  And to Scully.  Maybe you 
haven't noticed, but I care a great deal for your sister."

  "Then why--"   Bill broke off, his hands clenching into fists.  Dana 
tensed, afraid she was about to have to mop up more blood.  "Then why 
can't you call her by her first name?"

  Silence fell, stunned and strange.  Mulder stared at Bill and Bill 
stared back, his face tight.  Finally Mulder shook his head in disbelief.

  "Is that what this is about?"  He shifted in his chair, lowering the 
ice pack.  His eyes looked puffy.  "I was up half the night rocking and 
singing and pacing the floor, not to mention changing the most 
disgusting diapers you've ever seen.  I'm _there_, Bill.  I'm _with_ 
her.  What the hell does it matter what I _call_ her?"

  Bill looked at Dana.  "Is that true?"

  Dana shrugged.  "Well, calling it singing might be a little generous."

  Mulder looked at her, his mouth twitching.  Then he got out of the 
chair and walked to her, laying his free hand on her shoulder.  He 
looked her directly in the eyes and said, a shade too melodramatically, 
"I love you,  Dana."  He bent and kissed her, full on the mouth, just a 
little too thoroughly for family consumption.  Startled, she returned 
the kiss and tried to remember if he'd ever actually said the "L" word 
before.

  That awkward silence fell again as Margaret lifted her eyebrows and 
Tara covered a grin with one hand.  Finally, Mulder pulled away.

Bill cleared his throat.  "That was unnecessary."

  "Sorry," said Mulder.  "I thought you analytical types needed hard 
evidence."

  He put the ice pack back to his face and stalked out of the house.

  Dana looked at her mother.  "I didn't raise him."

  "You haven't trained him very well, either," Margaret replied with a 
smile.  "Go on.  Go talk to him."

  He was sitting on the front porch, looking miserable, shifting the ice 
pack against his face in an apparently vain attempt to make it 
comfortable.  She sat down next to him.

  "Got any 'hard evidence' for me?"

  He snorted.  "You're a sick woman, Scully."

  "Better call me Dana.  Otherwise I might think you don't love me." 
She paused, looking at her hands.  "That was a hell of a way to hear it."

  "I think you knew."

  "I did.  By the way, the feeling's mutual."  She grinned.  "Fox."

  He shook his head.  "God, I hate that."

  "I'm sorry.  Mom refuses to stop."  She giggled then.  "I'm really sorry."

  "It's okay."  He tucked his arm around her shoulders.  "When you, um . 
. . come . . . you call me Fox."

  She blushed.  "I know."

  "It's like--"   He put the ice down and lifted his hands, curling his 
fingers next to his face.  "Oh, God.  Oh, God, Fox.  Oh, my God."  After 
that he couldn't keep a straight face and put the ice pack back against 
his nose to cover his grin.  "I hate that, too."

  She smacked his shoulder, not sure whether to be embarrassed or 
amused.  "You do not hate that."

He shrugged.  "Okay, that I don't mind."

She shook her head, wondering for the thousandth time what exactly she'd 
gotten herself into, probably for the rest of her life.  "Bill's right. 
  You _are_ a piece of work."

  They sat for a moment, then a car pulled into the driveway.  A tall 
man with red hair got out and walked up the sidewalk.

  "Charlie!" Dana cried, and ran to meet him.  He engulfed her in a hug, 
then walked up the sidewalk with her, an arm draped over her shoulders. 
  Mulder stood as they approached.

  "Charlie," said Dana, "this is Fox Mulder.  I'm sure you've heard him 
mentioned."

  "Yes, indeed, I have."  He grinned and held out a hand, which Mulder 
took.  "Good to meet you."  Then he eyed Mulder's swollen face.  "Bill?"

  Mulder nodded.  "Bill."

  Dana grinned as Charlie grabbed an obviously startled Mulder in a warm 
hug.  "Welcome to the family, Fox."

END.

-- 
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