"In-laws" Chapter 15 "I wish you didn't have to leave," Jennifer complained as she carried the basket out to the car a few days later. "We never get to see Fox, and we're just getting to know you, after all." "Well, that's going to change," Dana said with a smile, shutting the door. "Your mom and dad have already invited us for July 4th, and they've promised to come see us in D.C., too." She looked over at Amy, who smiled back. Somehow she and Amy had formed a special bond in the short time they had known one another. Both girls had professed an interest in joining the FBI when they were old enough, but whereas she knew that Jen's interest would eventually flag, she had no doubt that Amanda would make a fine agent if she still believed that was her destiny when she reached the moment of decision. She felt that Amy definitely had a destiny. She would talk to Fox more about it later. For now she simply gave the girl an extra squeeze and whispered, "and when you come to D.C. you and I will talk more, okay?" The young girl nodded, her eyes glowing. Her admiration of her brother's wife had moved beyond simple hero-worship. She respected Dr. Scully and was grateful for her attention. Although the girls had grown up in a two-parent home, they had lacked the female role-model they needed to grow up properly. Dana would fit the bill nicely. Then again, it appeared the times at home, they were a-changin'. Their mother seemed more -- well, more like a mother instead of a socialite. And Dad looked happier than he had in ages. "Thanks for everything," Amy whispered to Dana as she gave her one final hug. The girls attacked Fox next, and Scully shook Ed Tillot's hand, then turned to her mother-in-law. "Dana," she said softly, then reached for her. They hugged briefly, then the older woman stepped back. "Have a safe trip, and, Fox. . . ." He looked at them over the tops of his sisters' heads. "Take good care of this young lady." He grinned and nodded. "Don't worry, Mom. I fully intend to." He caught her eye and the gleam in his suggested to her several ways in which he planned to "take good care of" her when they got home. She twinkled back at him and then held the car door open for him. "Well, one of the *best* ways for you to 'take good care of' me would be to keep *yourself* out of trouble, Fox Mulder," she admonished him. "I swear, you have no idea how much of my time I spend patching him up. If he keeps going at this rate I'll requalify for surgery." They laughed. He tried to roll down the window to respond but couldn't because she had the keys. But when she started the engine he pressed the "down" button and hollered back at them, "oh, yeah? Sometime ask her about the mosquito bites. . . ." Their laughter was the last thing the Tillots heard as the car pulled away. "Mosquito bites?" Jen asked Amy as they returned to the house. "I dunno, Jen -- but knowing brother Fox and Dana, it should be an interesting story. . . ." ***** The trip back to DC seemed much shorter than the one to Martha's Vineyard a lifetime ago. There was not much talking, as Mulder promptly turned on his side and fell asleep almost as soon as they hit the highway, but the silence was comfortable rather than oppressive. She looked over at him fondly, at his messy dark hair that fell over his forehead, the long dark lashes that fanned his cheeks -- those lashes, at least, he had inherited from his mother, and his sisters had them as well. Not for the first time she wondered what Sam would look like now. Thankfully, they might still stand a chance of finding out, since the remains discovered in the mass grave had not been hers. And now the search could become what it should have been all along: a brother looking for his beloved sister instead of a son trying to win back his parents' love by returning to them the child they had loved best. He and his mother -- and Dana herself -- still had a long way to go, but the old wounds were beginning to heal. And she would be with him every step of the way -- as his best friend, his partner, his beloved wife. She turned on the radio, so soft she could barely hear it. She smiled. Celine Dion was singing. She glanced over at her sleeping husband and sang along: 'Cause I'm your lady And you are my man Whenever you reach for me I'll do all that I can We're heading for something Somewhere I've never been Sometimes I am frightened but I'm ready to learn The power of love. . . . she thought. It was amazing. Amazing that although Mulder was still recuperating -- slowly -- from his injuries, they were both far happier than they had been since they were first married. Perhaps even happier than they had been as newlyweds. Their marriage was certainly healthier. He was still physically incapacitated and griped and moaned about her having to take care of him, but her mother was right: deep down, he loved all the extra attention. Now, instead of insisting on playing lone wolf, he was responding to her coddling more in the manner of the average adult male: he was reverting back to little-boy-hood: in his case, the childhood he had never really had. He was learning to let go, to allow her to be the strong one for once. As for Scully, she was learning to let him worry about *her* occasionally. Even their lovemaking, wonderful as it had always been, had changed for the better. It was deeper, somehow -- richer, perhaps because they were becoming equal partners in this as in everything else. He had always been in control because she, as she frequently reminded him, was the inexperienced of the two. But ever since that night when he had asked her to make love to him, that had been changing. And the physical aspect was no longer the main focus. Not that she didn't enjoy that part of it, she thought with a grin -- far from it. Her "Wolf" had the ability to turn her into a pile of melted Jello with just a look or a touch. But sex was just a physical expression of the deeper coupling of minds and hearts and souls. At first he had been apologetic when his injuries had prevented him from loving her with his accustomed . . . enthusiasm. He had been frustrated at not being able to tear that last pair of purple panties off her, for one thing. And sometimes he had had to content himself with just holding her, when he wanted far, far more. She had reassured him. "Spook, give yourself time. Your body's been through an awful lot -- both of us have, over the past few months. It's okay. So long as you're here -- just to hold me and love me -- I'm happy. Not," she hastened to add, "that I don't miss my 'wild man.' But he'll be back. I'm just so grateful to have you alive and here and loving me, Fox," she concluded softly, her eyes very tender. He looked at her for a long minute and then pulled her into his arms with a contented sigh. "Maybe this is better, Shorts -- really. We're learning a lot from this, you and I. Maybe we needed to know that we could still love each other without sex. I just wish we could have figured all this out earlier -- it sure would have made those three months a lot easier on both of us." She smiled a little. Those long weeks had been miserable, coming so early in their marriage as they had, before they had really known each other, in the way they were only now beginning to know each other. Now, looking over at him, she smiled again. It would probably take her the rest of her life to figure him out, she thought -- if she ever could. But that was okay. It was a truth she was willing -- and eager -- to pursue. Fox Mulder stirred slightly in his sleep and gave a little sigh, then slipped back into pleasant dreams with a smile. His wife eased on the cruise control and took the exit to the District. Heading home. ***** When she pulled up in front of their apartment building and looked over, he still had his eyes closed, a faint smile on his face. But there was something about that smile. . . . With a smile of her own she leaned over towards him. "Fox," she said softly. "Fox, we're home." He did not stir. "Oh, Wolf," she murmured in the low, throaty voice that always gave him chills, "we're home. I suppose I *could* leave you out here, but I *really* don't want to sleep alone tonight. . . ." That did it. His eyes popped open and he stared at her, then rolled his eyes when he took in her knowing smirk. "You tricked me," he accused. "Mmm, but not entirely," she assured him. His eyes widened. "Oh, really?" "Mmm-hmm. I *could* have left you out here," she finished with a twinkle in her eye. He looked at her for a moment, then laughed. "Okay, okay. Just give me a hand, all right?" Slowly she helped him out of the car and up the sidewalk. His mobility was much better, but he was going to be confined to the office for a few days at least. She had given up on trying to make him stay at home. And, she had to admit to herself, she did not relish the thought of spending the entire day apart from him. When they reached the door to their apartment she unlocked it and stood back to let him enter first. "What?" he complained. "You're not going to carry me over the threshold?" At her sarcastic expression he softened his voice. "That's one thing I regret, you know," he said. "What?" "Not carrying you over the threshold." She smiled. "Something else to look forward to when you get well, Spook," she said. He limped to the couch and sat down with a sigh. "Dana, I'm really sorry I can't help you bring stuff in. . . ." "That's okay, Fox. I'll be right back." But instead of going back out to the car she headed down the hall to Mrs. Anderson's to collect Krycek. The older woman gave him back somewhat reluctantly. "He really is a beautiful bird," she told Dana. "So talkative. But *what* have you been letting him watch on television? We had a storm and every time it thundered he would yell, 'Help! Murder!' Scared me half to death the first time I heard it." Dana laughed. "Just my husband's oddball sense of humor," she assured Mrs. Anderson as she left. "Now listen, you," she said to Krycek as she walked down the hall, "I didn't want you and I've made no secret of the fact that I don't like you. You try to bite the hand that feeds you and I find that very annoying. But -- and this is a very big 'BUT,' " she continued, "Fox likes you. For the life of me I can't see why, but he does. And I love him. Ergo, you can stay. But NO MORE BITING!" "Help! Murder!" Krycek responded. She sighed and opened the door to their apartment and he immediately, of course, shut up. She shook her head and crossed to the couch, setting the cage on the end table next to Mulder. "Uh, Shorts? About Krycek -- I've been thinking . . ." he began. "Krycek and I just had a little talk, Spook -- I *hope* we understand each other. I promised not to hate him so much and he promised not to bite me anymore. If he does," she grinned, adding a little clause to their "contract," "if he does, I reserve the right to cook and serve him up in my choice of dinner dishes. And *you* have to eat it. You got that?" she said sternly to the cage. But it was Mulder who answered. "Yes, ma'am." She nodded and headed for the as-yet unpacked car. Mulder sat on the sofa and watched her out the window, appreciating the gracefulness of her movements and the way her hair gleamed red-gold in the sun. "Okay, Krycek, time for a new lesson," he began, picking up the box of treats on the coffee table. When the front door opened again he held out a treat and said cheerfully, "'Hey, pretty lady!'" She shook her head with a smile and headed for the bedroom with their suitcases. "Be sure to hang all that stuff up, Shorts!" he called. "Actually, Spook, I thought I'd just dump everything on the bed," she called back. "No way," he said with a grin as she rejoined him, "I have plans for that bed for later." "Well, right now I think you'd better plan on taking a nap on it," she said, bending to help him up. "Only if you'll join me." "I will," she promised, "*after* I finish unpacking. He sank to the bed with a sigh and held up his feet for her to pull off his shoes. She did so with a smirk. Perhaps some women would consider this demeaning, she thought, but it was such a change of pace for them that she did not mind in the least. As long as he didn't get too used to it. She pulled the afghan up over him and bent to kiss him. "Now *sleep*," she ordered. "Yes, ma'am," he said, but as she moved around the bedroom she could feel his eyes on her. Every time she turned around he managed to close them, but she knew he was watching her from under those heavy lashes. So she decided to tease him. She stripped slowly, seductively, tossing each item of clothing over her shoulder as she pulled it off. Finally she was down to the purple underwear and bra he had bought her at Victoria's Secret on their honeymoon. The last pair of that *awful* purple underwear. She stopped and looked at him, posed with her hands on her hips. He didn't move a muscle. She peered closer. Was he faking? She bent over him. His eyelashes did not even twitch. With a sigh that was part relief at his finally getting to sleep -- a very small part -- and part disappointment -- a very large part -- she changed into a nightshirt and climbed in next to him. Immediately, to her surprise, his arm went around her. "Sneaky Fox." She felt his smile against her shoulder as he snuggled up to her. "Thought you'd tempt me with that last pair, eh, Shorts?" She grinned. "Actually, I was thinking maybe we should save it. . . ." He grunted softly. "Thought you hated them," he said sleepily. She nodded. "I do -- or did. But maybe we should save them as -- I don't know -- a souvenir of what we've been through." He struggled with this for a moment. He was feeling very drowsy, but somehow he had the idea that this wouldn't have made too much more sense to him even had he been fully awake. "Symbolic underwear?" She laughed quietly. "Well, you know. I feel like -- well, Fox, when we first got married you had to teach me everything. Even this purple underwear -- I let you buy it for me even though I knew it would look awful because I thought you knew what you wanted better than I did." "Well, after I saw how awful it looked on you -- why do you think I ripped so many pairs off of you?" "Yeah, right," she deadpanned, and was rewarded with his snort of wicked laughter. "But anyway. I think you're right about our learning through all of this. And we've moved past all that." "What, my ripping underwear off of you?" "I sincerely *hope* not," she grinned. "But not every time." "No," she agreed, "not every time." "Okay," he said, "but as soon as I get better I'm taking you back to Victoria's Secret and buying you a whole new underwear collection. No," he said, placing his hand over her lips when she opened her mouth to interrupt him, "no more purple. This is the last pair. I promise." He felt her smile against his fingers. "Actually, I was just wondering if they carried purple underwear for men. . . ." *End Chapter Fifteen by Juliettt* T H E E N D Note: "In-laws" is part of Macspooky's "Generations" series and does not fit in with Juliettt's story series (Stakeouts/"Vengeance"/"Epithalamion"/Marriage).