TITLE: When Charlie Met Mulder

AUTHOR: Leslie Sholly

SPOILER WARNING: Season Eight 

RATING: PG-13

CLASSIFICATION:  VR

KEYWORDS: MSR, RST, babyfic, Charlie Scully POV

DISTRIBUTION:  If you want it, I'd love to share!  Please 
let me know, if possible.

SUMMARY: Charlie Scully forms his own opinion
of the father of his sister's child.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:  I wrote this before "Existence" so 
I guess it's slightly AU at this point.  I did, however, pick the 
right name for the baby!  More notes at the end.

FEEDBACK:  Cherished and saved at PennySyc@aol.com (Leslie).


********************************
When Charlie Met Mulder
by Leslie Sholly
********************************

     I've heard a lot about Fox Mulder.  Got quite an
earful from brother Billy on the subject--more than
once, in fact.  

     Thing is, I *know* Billy.  (Billy-Bully we used to
call him--still fits, in my opinion.)  And I've learned
over the years to take anything he says with a
grain--or two--of salt.

     Mulder's an arrogant s.o.b., he's told me.  Well,
I'd have to admit Bill's an authority on the subject. 
Pot, meet kettle.

     He's a lunatic, too, Bill's told me many times. 
Believes in monsters, ghosts, aliens.  Well.  I'm a
pretty practical, down-to-earth (no pun intended)
guy myself.  But I know my sister.  She's a scientist
at heart, and *she* believes in a lot of this stuff. 
Plus the evidence of Mulder's disappearance--not to
mention his death and resurrection--seems pretty
convincing to everyone at this point except my
thickheaded brother.

     Bill is also enraged that Mulder has "gotten our
sister into trouble."  I swear to God those were his
words.  I half-expected him to show up at the
hospital today with his shotgun to try to force
Mulder to make an honest woman of Dana.  Now,
as a former seminarian I can proudly--or sheepishly,
depending on the company--claim virginity
(technically, at least) on my wedding night.  But has
Bill forgotten the girl he almost had to marry in
college?  Turned out to be a false alarm, but he was
scared enough at the time to confide in me about it. 
Something tells me Bill wasn't paying close enough
attention to last week's Gospel reading about
attending to the plank in your own eye before you
worry about the mote in your brother's.

     So that's Bill's opinion of Mulder, and the rest of
the family hasn't given me much to go on.  "He
cares about Dana very much," is all my mother has
said on the subject.  It's admirable of her, I'm sure,
to refuse to get involved in discussing Dana's affairs
behind her back, but not much fun.

     As for Missy, she once told me that Mulder was
a troubled soul.  "His light is shrouded in darkness,"
was her New-Age way of putting it.  It didn't sound
good to me, but then I never could understand
Missy.

     Dana herself has never told me anything of
substance about the father of her child.  Hell, she
never even told me he *was* the father of her child. 
She left that to Mom.  Not that we couldn't all have
figured it out.  Her long-standing devotion, her
fierce defense of him to Bill, and her devastation at
his abduction and death made it abundantly clear
she's crazy about the guy.

     Anyway, I've been waiting a long time to meet
Fox Mulder so that I could form my own opinion.  I
like people.  I like studying them, figuring them out. 
I even took a short detour into psychology after
studying for the priesthood and before bowing to the
inevitable--hell, it's in my blood--and joining the
Navy.

     And I couldn't have picked a more interesting
time to study the guy.  Dana gave birth just a few
hours ago, and the clan has gathered at the hospital
to welcome its newest member.  Actually, to be
accurate, Mom and I have been here for an hour,
and Bill just arrived.  He dropped Tara and Matthew
at Mom's, where I also left Kristin and the kids.  We
have six of them, and although they can't wait to see
their cousin, that would be just a little overwhelming
for Dana and the baby, I think.

     He's a beautiful baby--Dana's blue eyes (so far, at
least), Mulder's dark hair, pudgy baby cheeks. 
Almost ten pounds, quite a feat for my petite sister
to deliver, and she's justifiably proud of doing it
naturally and without problems, especially after her
difficult pregnancy.  I know better than to expect a
brand-new mom to look beautiful but she does look
very happy, and Mulder's been staring at her all
morning with something like reverence on his face,
as though she were the most wonderful thing he's
ever seen.

     I'm ashamed to admit it, but although I've run
into Bill here and there over the last few years, I've
never met his son.  I've enjoyed seeing the pictures
of my nephew, I've sent him gifts, but I've never felt
a particular connection with him.  I used to watch
my brother and sisters with my kids, whom they
clearly worshiped, and wondered what that
relationship was like.  I figured they loved my kids
like their own because they didn't *have* any of
their own.
 
     So I wasn't prepared for the rush of affection I
felt at the first sight of my infant nephew.  I swear
tears came into my eyes when I first held him, and it
was all I could do to give him back to my greedy
mother.  But then, unlike most men, I love newborn
babies.  Even when they have names like William
Jude.

     Not that the William part surprised me much. 
It's no secret that Dana was crazy about Dad.  But
Jude's--well, sissy may not be a P.C. term these
days, but it's the first thing that came to mind.

     The grimace Mulder made when Dana told me
the baby's middle name endeared him to me
immediately.  Dana herself looked sheepish.  "The
patron saint of hopeless causes," she explained.

     Oh.  Well.  I'd say sissy or no it couldn't be more
appropriate for a miracle kid whose father was
raised from the dead a few months ago.  Pretty
funny to me, though, to see how orthodox my
brother and sister are becoming in their old age. 
Bill, the sower of many wild oats who didn't go to
Mass one time in four years of college, is now a
lector and a card-carrying KOC member.  Dana, the
scientist who once told me transubstantiation was
impossible, called and asked me to offer our family's
nightly rosary for Mulder's safe return, and said
she'd been saying rosaries herself.  Makes me
wonder if Missy would have taken the veil by now if
she were still with us.  All in all, it's very satisfying
for me, the one constantly faithful Catholic of the
bunch, six kids and all that.  Mulder's religion seems
to be on "don't ask, don't tell" status, and I wonder
how he feels about raising a Catholic kid.  With Jude
for a middle name, being Catholic will probably be
his only hope to avoid teasing, and it probably won't
help much.

     I don't know exactly what I was expecting when
I first saw Mulder--something extraordinary, I guess,
after hearing such strange tales abut him for so many
years.  But he looked like any ordinary guy in jeans
and a T-shirt--good-looking, I suppose, although he
needed a shave, had circles under his eyes, and
smelled a little ripe.  I could forgive him that,
though, since he's been coaching my sister through
labor all night, and I know what hard work that is. 
He was cordial to me, if tentative, probably afraid
I'd turn out to be another Bill.

     I figured two Scully brothers in the room was
probably one too many for Mulder.  So after having
held my nephew, exchanged a few pleasantries with
his father, and greeted Bill, I decided to clear out for
a bit while he saw Dana and the baby.  I went down
to the cafeteria and was actually impressed by their
coffee.  Coming back, I passed the family waiting
room and was surprised to see Mulder sitting in one
of the ugly green chairs, head in hands, looking like
anything but a joyful new parent.

     I went in and sat beside him.  "Hey, Mulder,
what's wrong?  I mean, I know Jude's a weird-ass
name, but you'll get used to it."

     He gave me a halfhearted smile and I added
quickly, "Seriously, is Bill giving you a hard time? 
Let me know, O.K.?  I may be skinny but I can still
whip his ass."

     His grin at that was genuine.  "You'll have to
stand in line."  Then he sighed and the grin faded. 
"It's not Bill.  He's being decent, for him."

     "Care to talk about it, then?  Did Dana tell you I
was in seminary for a while?  I can still play Father
Confessor with the best of them."

     He smiled again and said, "Sure, why the hell
not, Charlie.  Can I call you Charlie?"

     Now to be honest, I kind of cringe when I hear
myself called Charlie.  It's my family nickname.  I've
been Charles for years, even to Kristin.  I started to
say the usual, "Charles, please," but then I hesitated. 
Mulder's the father of my nephew.  I'm not going to
pull out my shotgun but I hope he's going to be my
brother-in-law.  Soon.  So I said, "Please do."

     "Your sister and this baby . . ."

     "Yeah?"

     "They are everything to me.  Watching him be
born--miracle is the only word for it.  I don't know
why I'm such a lucky bastard, but I know I don't
want to let them down."

     "What do you mean?"

     "I'll be honest, Charlie.  I know the
stereotype--every man wants a son, right?  But I was
hoping for a daughter."

     "That's normal, Mulder.  Lots of people have a
preference.  Don't feel bad.  I had the opposite
experience.  I was a little disappointed when
Meghan--that's our oldest--wasn't a boy.  It lasted
maybe a day, if that.  Just as soon as you spend
some time with little Jude--"
 
     Mulder made an exaggerated gagging noise. 
"Please. *Will*."

     "O.K., then.  Once you spend some time with
little Will, you'll know him as a person, you won't
be able to imagine your life without him, you won't
be able to wish he was anything than just what he
is."

     "I feel that way already."

     Now I was getting confused.  "I think I'm
missing something here, Mulder.  Care to fill me in?"

     He hesitated, as though struggling to put his
thoughts into words.  "I never planned to be a
father--never gave it much thought, really.  But a
little girl--I think I could do a good job of raising a
little girl.  I don't know if I can be a good father to a
son.  I--my dad--wasn't much of a role model. I've
got this miracle baby here, this incredible gift, a
brand-new little person.   I'm not sure I know how
to raise a son, and I don't want to mess it up."

     The guy looked absolutely miserable.  While I
was thinking how to answer him, he continued. 
"I'm a psychologist, you know.  I'm well aware that
despite the best of intentions, people all too often
repeat the mistakes of the past, parenting the way
they were parented.  I don't want to do this wrong,
and I don't your sister to be disappointed in me."

     O.K.  My opinion of Fox Mulder was coalescing. 
Not a lunatic, not a deadbeat, not an s.o.b., and
definitely not arrogant.  I liked this guy.  I wanted to
help him, and luckily I thought I could.

     "Mulder, I remember feeling exactly the way
you're talking about when my first son was born."  

     "Really?"  Mulder looked astonished.  No
wonder.  Dana has probably painted quite the
glowing portrait of old Ahab, as she called him.  

     "Yep.  Perfect, new little boy--mine, somehow, to
raise properly or ruin forever.  I really did feel like
that.  And I had the same doubts you do.  I knew I
didn't want to be the same kind of parent my dad
was.  Don't get me wrong, Mulder.  I don't mean to
imply that he was a monster.  Not at all.  But there
were things about the way he raised us that I didn't
care for, things I didn't want to do with my own
kids."

     "So what did you do?"  Mulder was looking at
me hopefully, as though I held the secrets of the
universe.  As a father of six--and a pretty good one,
I like to think--I do have opinions on fatherhood,
but I didn't want to sound like a jerk.

     "I'm not perfect, Mulder.  I've messed up plenty
of times.  And will again, I'm sure.  No matter how
hard a parent tries, I think there are always going to
be times when you hear the words your father said
to you coming out of your own mouth."

     Mulder winced visibly.  "God, I hope not," he
said, and I wished for a moment that I knew more
about his upbringing.  "Do you mind my asking what
kinds of things your father did that you decided not
to do with your own kids?"

     Doesn't every kid have a laundry list of these?  I
decided to start with the one that was most
important to me.  "Well, my dad didn't beat us or
anything like that, but he did believe in physical
discipline.  I don't.  His results were certainly good
in the short-term--we were very well-behaved and
respectful--but we were afraid of being spanked, and
I don't want my kids being afraid of me.  Since I did
want well-behaved kids, though, I read a few books
to get other ideas for discipline.  I'll be glad to lend
them to you, if you're interested."

     "Please."

     "I'm sure Dana's told you that Dad was gone a
lot.  As I've been--it's the nature of the job.  But
when I've had a choice, I've sought out assignments
that keep me close to home as much as possible, as
well as ones that help keep my family in one place
for more than a year at a time.  Those moves every
year are hard on kids.  I've paid a price for those
decisions as far as career advancement goes, but it's
important to me."

     "Considering that I'm out of a job myself, this
kid may see more of me than he wants to," Mulder
commented.

     "Not possible," I assured him.  "Time is one of
the most important gifts a parent can give a kid. 
Jeez, I feel like some kind of pop psychologist,
Mulder.  Am I boring you yet?"

     "Not at all.  Although Scully's probably
wondering if I've chickened out and flown the coop,
so to speak.  Maybe we could talk about this some
more later, if you wouldn't mind."

     "Any time."

     "Any final words of wisdom?" Mulder asked as
we stood to leave the waiting room.

     "Yeah.  Corny as it may sound, love is the key to
good parenting.  Really.  My dad may not always
have approved of our choices.  He may have made
some poor decisions as a parent.  But we always
knew that he loved us.  He said it often and showed
it, too, and we never doubted it."

     "Thanks for the advice, Charlie." Mulder said as
we reached the hospital room.  He bent over Dana
to kiss her and then picked up the baby, who had
been lying by her side.  When I was in the room
earlier, I had grinned to myself at the tentative way
Mulder held the baby, as though he might break. 
Many men are like that with their firstborns, but
after going through this so many times, I know how
sturdy babies are.  Now Mulder seemed more sure
of himself.  I watched him as he held his son close to
his chest, then bent to kiss him and to whisper
something in his tiny ear.  As Mulder settled into the
chair next to the bed, I could see Dana's eyes were
drooping shut.

     "Come on, Bill," I said quietly.  "Three's
company.  Let's take Mom home, and you can
introduce me to my nephew."

THE END


AUTHOR'S NOTES:  Thanks to the I Want to Believe 
list for issuing the challenge that provoked me to write 
this, my first story since my baby was born.

This story is dedicated to my precious nephew, Zachary, 
and to my own little Sweet William. :-)

Thanks for reading and please let me know what you thought 
at PennySyc@aol.com (Leslie).