Rating: PG--a little language
Classification: Story
Spoilers: Set immediately after El Mundo Gira. References to Quagmire, few others.
Keywords: Mulder/Scully UST; minor dose of Mulder/Scully Angst, slight humor
Summary: Is there life outside a basement? Will Mulder ever allow himself to be part of it?
Disclaimer: Not mine. No infringements intended (with the title or within the body of work).
Nor is any disrepect intended towards the charitites mentioned. Hope you enjoy.
Comments: Would appreciate any and all comments: Theg7@aol.com

"Every year the Bureau holds a charity fundraising event..."

Dana Scully read from a flyer that had been delivered with the afternoon mail. She glanced at her partner and then proceeded to read further.

"This year's event will have donated items up for auction...miscellaneous carnival games, and a pie-eating contest..."

She quirked her eyebrows.
Pie-eating contest? The Bureau?
Slightly amused, she continued.

"Proceeds shall be divided amongst this year's two pre-selected charities."

She laid the paper upon his desk. She waited.

There was silence.
The next move was his.
The match was set.
Would he play?

Fox Mulder sat at his desk, absently thumbing through a case file. It was obvious he had been listening, but his patent, non-chalant aire was part of his persona. He simply pretended not to listen. It was a trait he had perfected. Scully would expect no less. Scully would expect no more. The next move was his.

Dana Scully paused, eyeing her partner. Any moment he would peer up from his paperwork and...

"And...?"; Mulder prompted, peering.

"And...?"; Scully parried, countering.

[He would play]

She stood her ground with mounting anticipation. Her arms folded compactly in front of her, Scully was ready for Mulder-battle. Though her face bore no expression, her eyes were all a glow. Her intonation was teased to perfection. She was prepared for whatever should come her way. Actually, knowing her mischevious partner, there was no telling what would come her way. Nevertheless, she was prepared...as prepared as one could be in the company of one Fox William Mulder.

Mulder surpressed an amused grin. His clever partner had anticipated his singular, droll response. He was innately pleased. Scully had honed her witty banter to a fine degree in their years together. She was indeed his equal, if not his superior, at their continual battle of wills. He felt energized, eager for the opening match. He looked upon her affectionately as his eyes danced in anticipation. It was his turn to serve. She knew this. It was definitely his turn...and serve he would.

"And..."; Mulder continued unabashedly, eyeing the paper she'd lain upon the desk. "Granted, I am making an assumption here, but I'm going out on a limb to suppose you are planning to attend this annual, charitable event, Dr. Scully? Is that educated assumption, on my part, correct?"

He leaned back. His chair creaked. His closed lips betrayed none of his inner delight.

Scully paused before speaking, instantaneously judging whether her partner were asking a legitimate question or being his characteristic, flippant self. She decided upon the latter. Obviously, they were in full tennis mode today. She would have to pepper her response accordingly.

"Educated? No..."; she answered slowly, deliberately--inwardly priding herself.

The first ball had been lobbed unscathed into Mulder's court. The game had begun in earnest.

Mulder smirked appreciatively, conceding to her educational slight. His vaunted Oxford days provided a seemingly endless avenue of potential personal barbs. He looked into the smiling eyes of his partner. They were barbs she knew he, with his twisted humor, would appreciate. He nodded accordingly.

"But, yes..."; Scully continued lightly, abruptly snatching the paper from his desk. "Yes, I shall be in attendance."

Scully was careful to add the right intonation. She replied as if she were confirming a secret renedevous. She had to pique his interest. Retaking the paper was perhaps too obvious a ploy. She had to entice him though. She had to entice the Fox from the den. She had to pique his curiousity. She clutched the paper close to her chest.

"Okay..."; Mulder slurred, letting the word drip from his tongue. He eyed her and her snatched prize intensely.

This was weird. A new Scully-tactic he'd yet been exposed to. Where exactly was this conversation going? What game of wits was being playing here? Why the stubborn little inflection in her tone? Why the teasing paper snatch? What the hell was this charity event to her?

Mulder knew this wasn't Scully's no-nonsense approach today. She was in a rare playful mood. He was intrigued. But why a charity event? Why would that add a spark to her life? It wasn't exactly an enticing prospect to him. Did she think he'd be interested in a Bureau function? Him? Spooky Mulder--renowned recluse and Golden-Boy has been? I mean, hell, it wasn't like Scully needed his approval or permission to go to Bureau functions--to unearth herself out of the darkened basement once a year to face the light of day. What was her goal here?

It was obvious Scully was trying to goad him, rib him somehow about her attending this function... But why this charity event?

Mulder paused, trying to consider her approach. He knew Scully always did something for a reason. She had admitted as much once before. The psychologist in him began innately piecing together her possible motivation...her possible goal mentioning this. What was driving her--driving this little sparring match? Why even mention to him that she was attending this Bureau affair unless... Wait! It hit him. Perhaps, just perhaps it wasn't the event itself that she was dangling before him. Perhaps, in an obscure, round-a-bout way she was feeling him out. She was soliciting. She was fishing to see if he'd bite. So, maybe she wanted to attend this boring Bureau function after all, but it was secondary. It was secondary to the real reason she was enticing him. She was enticing him... for him. She did not want to attend alone.

Mulder was stumped. This was an interesting hypothesis--but highly unlikely. Did Dana Scully want him to accompany her? Escort her, so-to-speak? Could she possibly want to be seen openly socializing at a Bureau event? The two of them together? She wanted him with her? Off the proverbial clock...in their spare time?

No, Mulder amended. His partner, no doubt, had agents from every department drooling at her stellar scientific heels. Why solicit the dead albatross that hung from her neck? Maybe she was just trying to be a good friend? Maybe she pitied his pathetic social life--rationalizing that he should get out more--and this was simply a means to an end. That was highly possible. She joked enough about his lack of a social life for that scenario to be feasible. Then again, maybe she wanted the office all to herself? Yeah, maybe she wanted him out of her hair for a while--to enjoy some peace and quiet? Yet again, maybe she was coaxing him...but for a different reason altogether. Maybe she was leading him up to this event just to dump him the moment he was distracted. The old 'distract and dump' routine? Heaven knows, it had happened before in the past.

No, Mulder scolded himself, she would not dump him. That old 'dump routine' was definitely not Scully's style...Phoebe Green's style maybe...but not Dana Scully's. Though it was possible this lure was some kind of gag though. Maybe Scully was pulling some kind of intelligent prank. Some belated birthday joke? Mulder just couldn't be sure.

The only other possible explanation was that Scully wanted to spend some time away from the office...spend some time away from the office with him--and Mulder's evaporated ego just couldn't accept that as a possibility.

Mulder couldn't see Scully wanting him to attend this function just so she could spend some down time socializing with him. How likely was that?

Hell, Fox Mulder was the Bureau ridicule and 24-hour on-call alien chaser extraordinare. He was not socializing material--at least, not to someone of Dr. Dana Scully's caliber. I mean, he was just someone she worked with, right? He was just someone she valiantly tolerated. He was just someone she was assigned to be with--forced to be with. Outside socializing wasn't part of the scientific laden debunktion of her responsibilities. Right? Right?

Okay, okay...so he would ponder the extreme possibility of her wanting to be with him, but it just didn't seem likely. Highly unlikely was more like it, but he would keep an open mind on the subject.

Regardless of his internal debate, all Mulder knew was that he had several hypothosis. It was now just a process of elimination to uncover the truth behind her beguiling proposal. Always the consumate detective, Mulder set out to prove one of his theories--any one of them. Mulder simply had to know: what was the Scully goal?
His quick mind devised a plan of action.
Now, it was just a matter of elimination.
And Dana Scully thought she was the scientist?

Purposefully being coy, Mulder decided to play his options and remain blissfully ignorant. A frontal attack would never work with his exceptional partner. He had to circumvent her defenses. He had to throw Scully completely off center. He had to throw protocol and reason to the wind. He had to smoke-out her intentions. The only way to do that was to fight her strict logic with his irrational illogic. Suddenly, there was a flash of absurd inspiration...

"And...?"; Mulder quipped, having instantly formulated his strategy--his plan of attack. "Do they make animal balloons at this annual charity event?"

There was a moment of silence.

With her eyes disapprovingly fixed upon her partner, Special Agent Dana Scully dropped her head.

[Here we go...]

Her feet still solidly planted to the floor, her arms still crossed in front of her, Scully was already set for battle. She just hadn't expected this type of battle--an unarmed duel with absurdity. She knew Fox Mulder always had to pick a fight...just always had to be difficult. If he wanted to be difficult, indeed he'd be difficult. He enjoyed being difficult. He got off on being difficult.

[Animal balloons?!]

And this difficult was bordering on the extreme.

Yes, Fox Mulder was going to be difficult. His disarming wit was blatantly intact.

Well, Dana Scully could be difficult too. Mulder was not...NOT going to out-wit her.

She raised her head and continued to lock dancing eyes with her fanciful partner. They stared at one another. Neither dared smile though. The game was afoot. Launching ball two...

"Cause..."; Mulder prattled on, undaunted. "I like animal-twisted balloons. In fact, I used to make animal balloon shapes myself."

Her face a porcelin mask, Mulder watched Scully's 'expressionless' reactions closely.

He was pleased with her obviously concealed response. His plan was working perfectly. In fact, it was time to take this tale up to the next level--to lay it on real thick...to really get it started...to really confuse his witty companion...to disarm her defenses...to discover her hidden motive.

" I was an animal shaper, actually. Um...an animal craftsman"; he corrected himself--delivering the last word with some pride, injecting an appropriate amount of enthusiasm to maximize his credibility. 'Craftsman' sounded better...more professional. Yeah, he was an animal craftsman.

"Well..."; Mulder shrugged lightly as he reconsidered, "I TRIED to make animal balloon shapes but...well, they didn't come out quite right."

Scully did not move.

Mulder paused, as if recalling an embarrassing memory. His voice lowered to a near whisper.

"I was accused of making obscene shapes."

Scully characteristically raised an eyebrow.

Mulder silently took note. He paused only momentarily.

Certain he'd given Scully ample time to envision an array of obscene balloon scenarios, he added; "They always...popped."

His eyes purposefully wide with puppy-dog earnestness, Mulder had added just the right aire of confusion. He was pleased with himself, but hid his amusement from his skeptical partner with a shrug of mock-defeat.

The partners stared at one another--one revealing disapproval, the other concealing delight.

Satisfied with the sucker-punch delivery, Fox Mulder returned to his abandoned paperwork. He bowed his head to give the appearance of shame--all-the-while cloaking the tiny smile that threatened his lips.

He had gotten her. He'd gotten Scully--hook, line, and sinker. She'd never even seen this chaos coming. It would definitely take her a moment to recover.

Mulder was pleased with himself. It wasn't easy to confuse his brainy partner and it was apparent that she was just that...speechless. She was still frozen to the spot and had yet to attempt an utterance. Forcing the smile from his lips, he knew she'd have to regroup and clear her mind of the twisted balloons and their absurdly lewd images. He was pleased, indeed. He had gotten her good. It would take some doing to deflate this. Dana Scully would have to regroup first before her next parry...and, no doubt, regroup she would.

Content, Mulder silently awaited her "recovery". He was fair. He'd be a gentleman about this. Hell, that was part of their integrity. She had more than earned his respect. Yes, he'd give her a moment's breath. Then he'd move on to phase two and disarm her even further. He'd discover the secret his pleasing little partner kept. The discovery, after all, was half the fun.

------

Silent, with her lips pursed, Scully closed her eyes.
She'd asked for this.
She had asked for this indeed.

He was on a roll--that fact she knew for certain. She knew him. She knew all his little boyish quirks. Fox Mulder wasn't going to be returning to his paperwork now.

In fact, any moment he would continue with this lunacy--no doubt, taking it up another notch. He was allowing her just enough time to recover from the first onslaught.

Yes, Scully knew she would have to hunker down and swallow this fish story...and what a whopper it was too. Mulder had definitely thrown her off-track. Well, she'd allow this one victory. But, Dana Scully was not out of the contest yet. She would win the ultimate victory. Fox Mulder would not beat her. She would only concede this one round. [... Obscene balloon shapes...?!!]

Game one to Mulder. ----

"I liked the weenie-dog shape best", Mulder suddenly continued, interrupting her contemplation. He eagerly looked up from his paperwork, nodding--work forgotten. His eyes glowing as if he'd seen a Christmas tree light up for the first time.

"Actually, it was the only shape I could mold, you know...but I did prefer the dog-balloon characters best. They had the greatest potential."

Mulder allowed himself a tiny grin.

This was one of the best tales he'd come up with and he just couldn't let it go yet. Yeah, he could twist this one around for hours to gall her, literally.

Fox Mulder was definitely pleased with himself--pleased with his tragic balloon capers and their sexual innuendo. He just had to gall her a little more and then he'd have his answer.

Mulder reclined back in his chair, a rare full-smile on his face.

"But, as I aforementioned", he embellished, "I couldn't practice my craftsmanship in public because I was accused of making obscene-looking shapes with my balloons. And you definitely wouldn't want to be caught making shapes like that in private. I mean if someone were to catch you making supposed 'privates' in private, you have to admit...well, regardless of invading your own privacy...that would be a bit touchy to explain...and so...well...I...uh...yeah..."

He gestured appropriately, nodded and fumbled with his paperwork...and left the sentence to hang there.

Mulder smirked inwardly to himself. Some of the best stories he'd ever heard he'd been left to imagine the endings of--at least some of the most memorable ones were that way. Yep, he'd leave her to fill in the blanks. Leave Scully to envision whatever. He just had to leave her hanging...or leave them hanging...but he'd definitely leave her wanting more. Or leave her wanting to strangle him--whichever. There was a lot of potential here. This was good material. This was good. Damn good. He wondered what she was thinking--wondered what populated that brilliant mind of hers. Innately, he knew.

Mulder leered.

----------

He was starting up again.

Frowning, Scully knew he was self-entertained. Though eager to wipe that smug grin from his face, she didn't interrupt him...for now. She'd grant him a moment in the sun. Everyone needed one moment in the sun. Fox Mulder was no different. She'd sacrifice her sanity--for a time...and only for Mulder though. Boy was he going to owe her big time for this sacrifice! Yeah, he would pay for this tale.

Though she was entertainingly perturbed, Scully was indeed affected by his tale. Actually, she was affected by him--by his unusual levity. She hadn't seen Mulder this child-like and relaxed in a long time. He was enjoying himself. Though it was an enjoyment slightly at her expense, he was sharing this perverted joy with her.

Since he was always one to lay thick the sexual innuendo, Scully wondered if Mulder expected her to blush at his pathetic phallic references. Surely, he must know she had seen plenty of men's privates--though 99 percent were hanging from cadavers at the time. In fact, she'd seen a set this morning. No biggie, literally, she mused. She wasn't the blushing school-girl type. He knew that. It would take more than a limp hot dog reference to break her facade, but his pathetic attempts at it had a way of disarmingly enchanting her.

[Game two to Mulder?]

No way...she wasn't going to concede again...

Trying to restore some decency to this spiraling conversation, Scully exhaled slowly, gathering her thoughts. She couldn't top his balloon whopper, so she'd disarm him with a different tactic. It was time to go on the offensive. After all, she did indeed wish to attend this event. And she wished to attend it with her irksome partner...and she knew his weaknesses--probably better than he knew them himself.

He could use a little socializing now and again--even if it were with other stiff Feds. He'd been more closed off than normal as of late. Yes, even Spooky Mulder needed companionship. Whether he'd admit to it or not, both of them needed some down time actually. They needed some time to unwind...to become human again. Both of them needed to come up out of the crypt for a little sunlight. By heaven, she could use some light and so could he. She worried about him--hunkered down in darkness, in the bowels of the Federal Building. Hell, she worried about him all the time. Admittedly, she wanted him with her. He needed some fresh air--some compassion. He needed the human touch. And, though she'd never verbalize it, she needed him by her side.

Uncrossing her arms, she knew she'd have to be the one to extend the olive branch--the one to take action. She took a step towards his desk, closing their proximity, invading his space. In all seriousness she spoke, gesturing to the paper in her hand.

"The Bureau is donating the proceeds of this year's event to two foundations. One is the American Cancer Society...the other is a program dedicated to Missing and Exploited Children."

She looked at Mulder with all the earnestness she posessed. Surely he could detect her geniune desire to attend. Surely he wouldn't refuse two such noble causes. Not Fox Mulder...not the Mulder she had come to know. He had never refused her. He was an understanding and compassionate man. He was a man with a big heart--one he tried so hard to hide, to protect.

It was a heart that had been broken one time too many. It was a heart she secretly hoped one day to mend. She just had to draw out that compassionate side of him now, circumvent his defensive wit. She needed the tender and understanding Mulder present at the moment. She knew if he surfaced, she would win this little battle. Mulder would go with her--no questions asked. He would throw-in the white towel. He would drop all this baffoonery...or balloonery...whichever. He would stop the mind games, and he would accompany her. Mulder would support her. He always had.

Mulder looked up into the face of his now-serious partner, up into her deep blue eyes. Mulder was speechless a moment. He could get lost in those eyes. He could read her change in demeanor instantly. He sensed it. The time for jokes had passed. Their past levity had evaporated. They were back to business.

"Oh..."; he managed--his tone serious, matching hers. His paperwork and balloon drollery were now forgotten.

Cancer and missing children...those were two issues he found no levity in. He gazed silently at Scully. He could see it. It was now clear to him. She wanted the support of her partner. There was no hidden agenda here. She wanted him with her. It was just his partner--just his Scully...and she wanted him by her side. She was asking for him--for his support--for his mere presence. She needed him with her. He was needed--needed by her. He felt humbled. His heart soared. Scully wanted him. She needed him....HIM.

Scully, motionless, could read the change in his manner. She didn't mean to squelch his fun, but she did want to convey the seriousness with which she desired his support. After all, they both felt strongly about both of these particular causes. Looking into his caring eyes, Scully knew she'd won a tiny victory. Her Mulder had surfaced. He would support her. He would go with her. He would go.

Mulder nodded.

"Well, when is this event?"; Mulder questioned, his voice masking no wily intent--just honest curosity.

Scully was touched by her partner's earnestness. Unbeknowst to him, Scully found it his most endearing quality. "This afternoon, actually. It starts at 5pm."

"So..."; Mulder began, rising from his desk with files loosely in tow; "I suppose you'll want to take a little break around 5pm to mosey-on-up to the festivities?"

[She wanted him with her...]

Scully's eyes never left his face.

"Yep."

[Come with me...]

Mulder turned toward her.

They stared at one another a moment in silence. This was how they best communicated anyway, each gauging the others emotions, reactions, and underlying meanings.

[I'll go wherever you want me...always.]

Mulder admired his compact little partner. He had admired her the moment he had first lain eyes upon her. Mulder allowed himself a controlled, lopsided smile. She didn't know he thought the world of her--but, he did. Though she'd laugh her head off, maybe--one day--he would tell her as much. One day...just maybe...when she wasn't armed...he'd tell her.

---

Unaware, Mulder's compact little partner was admiring him the same. She had always admired his intellect, his integrity, and his passion. The lopsided smile he was displaying was the icing on the cake today. It took all her restraint not to break into a big grin.

He was going. He would support her--as he always did.

She wasn't sure if it was the ease with which he had conceded to go...or the fact that he had that crooked grin on his face, but she was pleased. She eased her self-control and even permitted a tiny smile to dance upon her own lips. The very smile Mulder had remarked Di Vinci had stolen and placed on 'some painting' or other.

Their duel of wits had come to an amiable end.

Game to Scully.

"So, this means you'll be in attendance?"; Scully questioned to gently reitterate his concession.

"I suppose I'll be in attendance"; he conceded, mocking his own self-defeat by echoing her intonation.

"Regardless if there's animal craftsmen present?"

"Hmm..."; Mulder slurred--as if this were a serious issue to consider, "Well, now I don't know."

She smirked.

He'd surrendered to her. He'd surrendered to her wishes. Hell, he'd always surrender to her. No need for her to know that though, Mulder thought. He loved the challenge of the game too much to tell his feisty partner that he'd do whatever she wanted...whenever she wanted. He was hers--had been for some time...would be for some time, that is, until she tired of him, came to her senses and moved on...or became head of the Bureau...whichever came first.

Scully coyly eyed him.

"Well, considering I've just been drug all over the country...uncovering dead goats and chasing enzymes from outer space--which I might add--supposedly spawned an other-worldly fungi which you tout purportedly mutates adult men into Chupras-cabras."

"Chupacabras"; Mulder eagerly completed.

"A Mexican folklore"; Scully reiterated.

She wasn't about to be drawn into that discussion again. "Regardless of my obvious scientific explanation of the spores..."; she stressed the words 'obvious' and 'scientific' for Mulder's express benefit. "I think you owe me."

"That reminds me..."; Mulder interrupted, unfazed by her science. He milled through some loose papers on his untidy desk. "I've gotta show you something."

After a brief, contemplative moment, he finally spotted the object he sought. "Eureka"; he muttered as he avidly grasp what he was looking for.

Scully moved in closer for a look. There was no telling what Mulder wanted her to see.

The object Mulder excitedly held was an 8 x 10 snap-shot. It was a blurry shot--black and white, grainy. He held the prize for her apparent scrutiny.

"I forgot to show you this"; he muttered, trying to contain his abundant enthusiasm.

"An anonymous source sent this photo to us."

"To us?"; she questioned, clearly having noted Mulder's name in permanent marker upon the manilia envelope from whence the photo came. Hopefully, people knew better than to send oddities marked to her attention.

Mulder shook his head in the affirmative. That wasn't even a consideration. Of course it was for them both. His eyes were glued to the image.

With near reverence, Mulder held the sacred photo up to the light. His eyes alive, he enticed her with his goading expression to seek answers for herself.

She squinted. Oops.

Mulder instantly noticed he'd raised the photo too far above her, at a level comfortable for himself. He lowered the photo. Her petite height was always a consideration he tried to make--a silent consideration. He never wanted her to fill uncomfortable about the obvious inches difference between them. He didn't want to make their differences seem awkward. In fact, her stature actually endeared her to him all the more. It made her strong character seem larger-than-life. Besides, he wanted his Scully to have a full, unrestricted view of this discovery.

He was silent.

It was obvious he was awaiting her opinion on the matter. Scully was silent also--taking in the image. Together, they quitely stared at the indescribable mass before them.

Unable to contain his enthusiasm any longer, at last, Mulder spoke.

"How does that grab ya?"

"Well,"; Scully questioned warily, afraid of his glee; "What is it?"

Scully stared at the blackened mass. She didn't see a damn thing. Well, that wasn't entirely true. Perhaps there was some moss on a stump...

Excited, Mulder studied her intently.

"Can't you make out an eye here...?"; he prompted, pointing to a shiny spot on the photo.

Scully frowned and squinted her eyes at the photo. An eye? No, no she didn't see an eye...

"This shape resembles a head...here..."; Mulder continued, his fingers tracing animage on the photo's surface. He looked from the photo then back to Scully.

Scully frowned. Head?

"And what is this here?"; Scully questioned pointing to a white blur. "A tooth, perhaps?" Mulder frowned. He truly felt that blow.

He didn't particularly wish to re-hash her literary allusions regarding Moby Dick and himself once more. That was a little too close to home plate.

"No, I've already slain that gator"; he quipped.

Scully eyed him. Her gaze unreadable.

"Seriously, Scully, this is possibly the first known photo in existence of an actual Chupracabra--the four-legged variety, that is. This is an actual sighting...documented evidence...proof."

Scully stared at him. She couldn't take it any longer. She snatched the photo.

"Proof? What proof? Cause the envelope is postmarked from Arizona it's definitely a goat-sucker caught on tape? Or is it because the photo just happens to be blurry enough to be questionably anything on God's green earth--so, hence, it must be the elusive Chupras-Cabra?"; she spat this in one breath, lightly incensed.

"Chupracabra."; Mulder corrected. "Chupra-cabra"; Mulder sounded out slowly, breathing into her ear.

She smelled good, flowery.

"Chupra-cabra."; Scully repeated, silently acknowledging his close proximity. Damn him.

He smelled nice, clean.

"This could be anything, Mulder"; she continued. "In all honesty, if you want my honest opinion of what I think this is...."; she paused, awaiting his response. "Honestly?"; she lightly snorted in exasperation.

"Yes, honestly. I want your honest opinion"; he shook affirmatively.

"What do you think this is?"

She paused and fixated upon the image--upon the absurd, blurry image...

"It think it's someone's boot..."

--Silence--

" ...rotting on a stump."

They stared at one another.

Fox Mulder refused to smile.

Unwilling to concede to the blatant humor, Mulder allowed his incredulous enthusiasm to take precedence. He would not let Scully break him.

"You don't see the head? The beady eyes? The fangs?!" His hands gestured wildly--highlighting each area in question.

"Oh...", Scully drolled; "so now it is a tooth?"

Mulder couldn't suppress his grin any longer. Damn it, she had him on a leash. She had him roped, fit, and tied--though he hoped she never knew to what degree. It would lessen his witty resolve. Damn it, she was this Fool's dream.

"Maybe it's a tooth...maybe not."; he conceded. "But, I do think 'fang' would be the more apt word to describe the protrusion, don't you?"

Scully closed her eyes.

Why did she allow herself to be perpetually bewitched by this man? By his boyish fancy? Or was 'entranced' the proper term? Was there method to this madness of his? Did he even realize his allure? Hell, she was so far deep into his alternative world she was sinking in it. Did he know both her feet were entrenched is his quagmire? Did he know she was up to her chin in his misadventures of a life? And, yet...the thought of crying out for help--for someone to free her from the Mulder-spell never had entered her mind. Damn his sorcery ass anyway...

"Bicuspid, fang, shoelace--regardless, I think you owe me."

"Owe you?"; Mulder asked innocently.

"The charity event."; she reminded.

He wasn't going to distract his way out of this one.

"Oh..."; Mulder gestured towards himself, the mysterious photo now lost on his desk. "So, you expected my concession?"

"Your attendance"; Scully soothed. "I suspected as much."

Disappointed that the mystery photo was old news, his mind groped for alternatives. Perhaps he'd bring up the dog balloonery again. He felt vulnerable.

"Suspected? But not expected?"; he countered suddenly. He hated to think he was that predictable.

"I've learned to always expect the unexpected from you, Agent Mulder."; she lightly teased. She moved away from his desk, tiding her already tidy things.

Mulder stared after her. He was pleased. Did the enigmatic Agent Scully regard him as an enigma as well?

"So, you expected the unexpected?"; he questioned.

"I suppose"; she muttered, looking back at him fondly.

"Well, that's a paradox in and of itself, Scully. To expect the unexpected makes the unexpected expected. Don't ya think?"

Mulder couldn't believe he'd gotten that out warble-free. A tiny ego-boost there. He smirked. Good day ahead.

Scully smiled, silently taking note of his tiny pride. "You loved Dr. Seuss, didn't you?"

Delighted, Mulder grinned idiotically. "Yep. Too much...as a child."

He knew with a goofy grin, he wasn't exactly playing it cool here. Mulder hoped he hadn't blushed. He didn't want to be a complete goob. It was just so rare that Scully was this playful, he was quick to respond to her joy. Perhaps, too quick. Regaining his trademark, straight-face composure he added; "I suppose I still suffer from Seuss-o-phrenia to this very day."

Scully nodded slowly, agreeing. She'd made him smile--a full-fledged Mulder-smile. They were rare gems indeed. As she stared at his handsome face, slowly, in degrees, her mind began to wander. She couldn't help it. His endearing innocence was infectuous to her--his beautiful eyes, his embarrasssed grin. Yes, she could see the inquisitive little boy behind the man. Yeah, she could see that--a young Fox Mulder devouring Dr. Seuss.

She easily pictured Mulder as a little boy, avidly reading his collection of Dr. Seuss books. He probably read them in his worn pajamas...to his little sister...his hair tousled and in his eyes. His young fingers scrambling, eager to turn the next page. His immature pitch rising and falling to the witty rhyme. His sister nestled in his side...an enchanted smile upon his fuller-than-normal lips. His adolescent laughter...entertaining little Samantha...staying up way past his bed-time...begging to read just one more story...to stay up just a little longer...his eager fingers turning the page...

Scully's grin remained.

"'Fox in Sox'?"; she questioned, somehow already knowing the answer.

"Oh..."; he swayed, "of course."

He smiled lightly, recalling a fond memory. "It was Sam's favorite. I had to read it to her...in socks. Naturally."

Scully nodded and listened quietly. She didn't dare interrupt. He rarely spoke of his sister in fond childhood memories. Perhaps, they hurt too much to recall. Perhaps, he'd never had anyone to recall them to.

"I'd wiggle my toes--in my socks--anytime the 'fox in sox' made his debut."; he continued, smiling--lost in his nostaglia.

Noticing Scully, he quietly drifted back to the present. Mulder shrugged. His voice noticeably quieter. "She'd laugh."

His hands fumbled with something non-descript on his desk. He looked away.

Scully's partner hung his head low almost as if he were embarrassed by this admission. By his uncomfortable body language, Scully knew he probably assumed his verbal prattle was foolish. That he was a fool to mention that. Perhaps he thought that childish admission made him appear vulnerable, weak, or sappy somehow--a grown man lost in his childhood past. A grown man longing for a family he once had. A grown man who had no family to speak of now. He was a man who longed to belong, but didn't know how...or have anyone to belong to. Once a fool...always a fool...

Her eyes glassy, Scully momentarily focused upon the wall. Would he be surprised to know she didn't think that at all? Would he be surprised to know she felt his pain? His longing? His need for companionship?

"So..."; she began, regaining her composure, "Don't tell me your parents named you Fox after a Dr. Seuss character with a sock fetish?"

"No."; Mulder chuckled. "Unfortunately not."

Scully nodded. She'd always wondered the origin of his name, but had never asked. She'd assumed he'd mutter something about 'Mulder' being his name and want to drop the discussion. The time to ask felt right now. She had asked. She would wait. It was his move.

"Dad came up with it."; he finally offered, his voice noticeably quieter than before. "Or so I was told."

"Oh"; she uttered, realizing the ice was rather thin.

Mulder was very close-guarded about his tumultuous relationship with his father. There would always be regrets and sorrow associated with Bill Mulder. Though she didn't doubt Mulder's love of his father, she understood his conflict--his turmoil in reconciling his conflicting emotions. If only there had been a chance to air their grievances--a chance for son and father to connect... The point was mute though. There would be no happy ending to their story. Death allowed no second chances.

Scully wondered if Mulder would explain further regarding his name? But, she knew if he wanted to volunteer more he would. Or he wouldn't. Mulder was a complex man. He'd speak if he felt the need.

"Personally, I wouldn't name my son after a wild dog--but hey"; he smirked and continued; "Well, at least he didn't name me Bill Jr."

Scully couldn't help the closed smile that spread across her face. She waited for Mulder to notice the foot he'd placed in his mouth.

"Oh..."; he muttered, suddenly realizing his blunder. "Sorry, no offense to your Dad. Or Bill Jr."

She smirked and nodded her forgiveness.

"I think Bill felt that way too"; Scully offered. "At least when he was younger. Later, I think he enjoyed the distinction it afforded him. Him being the eldest son and all."

"Oh, the birth-right?"; Mulder questioned. "To carry-on the Scully legacy?" He smiled. He couldn't resist a little tease toward the boisterous Scully clan.

"Yeah, something like that."

There was a silence. Neither spoke.

Mulder briefly wondered if he'd seemed insensitive. Maybe he shouldn't have mentioned the Scully's or a Scully legacy--seeing as Dana was incapable of adding to the Scully legacy herself. Had he reminded her of her infertility? What a stupid bastard he could be! He started to speak--to apologize-- but Scully spoke first.

"I would have figured you for a 'Green Eggs and Ham' type-of guy"; she prodded, seemingly oblivious to Mulder's worry. "Or 'How the Grinch Stole Christmas'? You seem like the Grinchy type."

Relieved that his blatant insensitivity was overlooked, Mulder willed himself to support Scully's unusual levity and revived their earlier conversation.

"Yeah"; he muttered, relaxed. " 'Green Eggs' was my favorite. That and 'One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish'." He smiled.

Scully nodded.

"The TV Grinch was the ultimate though."; he continued, recalling how he'd repeatedly sketched the character--at Sam's urging. "I couldn't go back to reading the book after that. Couldn't top Boris Karloff, you know?"

He hoped he wasn't prattling.

"I liked Max."; she said. "Max? Oh, the Grinch's dog. The little dog on the leash?"

[Ooops. Damn. Queequeg. He'd died drug off his leash, hadn't he? The alligator... Mulder cringed. Two for two.]

"Yeah"; Scully nodded. "He was cute."

[Poor Queequeg.]

An endearing thought suddenly came to Mulder's mind.

"Little Scully-Lou Who?"; he teased, hoping to provoke her.

Heaven knew she had the big blue eyes for that part.

She smirked. Mulder was just trying to be cute. Was he succeeding?

"So, did you identify with the Grinch?"; she quipped, unfazed.

"Me? Naw. If I had to pick someone I identified more with...it wouldn't be a Seuss character. I'd probably have to say...well, probably Charlie Brown."

"Oh..."; Scully sighed. Yeah, she could envision his identification with the downtrodden little underdog. Mulder did seem to spend a lot of time picking himself up off his backside. Charlie Brown was an apt kindred spirit.

"Good grief"; she uttered.

"Exactly."; Mulder countered. "So, whom did you identify with?"

"Me?"; Scully asked, caught off guard.

"Yeah."

Mulder crunched on a discovered sunflower seed, interested.

"Hmm...well, I don't know if I'd say I 'identified with' someone in particular. But, if I had to pick someone, I would have picked Laura Ingles, I suppose."

"'Little House on the Prairie'?"

Scully shook her head.

"I can see that."; Mulder agreed. "Red hair...pig tails..."

She lightly chuckled.

"Yes. She was kind-of a tom-boy--like I was. Laura had a pretty older sister too. And, at the time, we had a spiteful classmate next-door that looked an awful lot like Nellie Olsen. So, I guess I'd say Laura Ingles."

Mulder smiled as he shelled-out the seed. He could picture Scully running through the yard, her pig tails bouncing off her overalls....abundant with energy...trailing behind her older sister...creating her own brand of mischief...her own adventures. He wished he could have known her then.

"Laura was pretty."; he said.

Scully was quiet. She stared--didn't say a word.

[Hell. Strike three. When would he learn to keep his stupid mouth shut?]

Desperate to dig himself out of the 6 foot hole, Mulder suddenly grabbed a file.

"Well, think we outta get some work done before we leave for the Halloween party?"

He crossed behind the safety of his desk. Yeah, work to do. Plenty of work. Need to concentrate on the work.

"Yeah"; she muttered moving to her corner of the room.

There was always plenty of work to do. There were files that had to be tended to--expense reports. Things to organize...reorganize.

[Pretty?]

Each sat at there respective desks.
Five o'clock couldn't get here soon enough.

--------

J. Edgar Hoover Building
Cafeteria / Charity Event Headquarters
5:10pm

The event this year had drawn quite a responsive crowd of agents. Perhaps it was due to the charities that the Bureau was sponsoring this year. Perhaps, it was the fact that the Halloween season was in full swing now--being only a week away and agents were eager to break away from their set routines. Regardless if the air was festive with the Fall spirit or not, the cafeteria was packed to near compacity as Mulder and Scully set to enter the arena.

Scully instinctively surveyed the scene, her F.B.I.-training in continuous effect. It was a comforting setting, a relaxed environment--very festive. She noted most activities held true to the upcoming season. Most notable was a pumpkin-carving table set-up with elaborately carved pumpkins for sale. It was apparent that the Bureau had invited in outside vendors. The carvings were first-rate--as she assumed the pricing would be as well. She started to enter, yet stopped when she noted the hesitation on her partner's face.

Though he lingered uncertain in the doorway, Mulder could feel the inviting atmosphere. For some reason, he felt a deep desire to suddenly be a part of this--to belong. Yet, he also instinctively felt embarrassed and hesitant. After all, he was a reputed loner. Hell, he was 'Spooky Mulder'. Yet, the pull was there--tangible. It was ludicrous...to secretly want to be a part of this. He wanted to share in the companionship, the camaraderie. He wanted to let go--if, but for a moment. He didn't want to be the exiled Spook any more. In fact, sometimes he wished being Fox Mulder wasn't such a taboo. Some times he didn't want to be the lyprous outcast.

He looked to Scully. Would she find this weakness of his humorous? Could she tell? Did she know? Did she know he was afraid to open his protective shell and let something...let anything in?

Scully waited patiently. She could sense the turmoil within her partner. It saddened her--that he was so alone--yet wanted to be apart. He just didn't know how. She would be patient. She would wait until he was ready. Her eyes were welcoming, encouraging.

Looking into her kind eyes, Mulder felt foolish. Of course Scully wouldn't judge him like that. He should have known. He smiled. Silently, in total communion, Scully returned and nudged him forward. It was time. They entered the cafeteria together.

As they began to walk unnoticed through the crowd, it became apparent that this was a bigger event than even they had supposed. Some agents had invited family members to participate. There were several excited youngsters weaving from booth to booth, laughing and playing. Scully narrowly missed having two excited youngsters' cotton candy plastered to her skirt. She did chuckle however, when Mulder gallantly offered to wrestle the kids to the floor and confiscate their sugary treats all 'in the line-of-duty'.

Scully saw other, better-behaved kids having their faces painted with ghosts or the like . In fact, Kimberly, Skinner's secretary, was lending an artistic hand at that booth. Several divisions within the Bureau had also sponsored some events. Violent Crimes and the BSU had their own areas represented with a pie-eating contest and a pie-throwing contest respectively.

Most notable to Mulder, however, was the delicious aroma of spiced apple cider permeating from a baked goods table. His grandmother used to make homemade cider for he and Sam. The smell felt good--reminding him of pleasant childhood memories. With his hand on her back, Mulder guided Scully in the direction of the pleasant smell and promptly purchased two apple ciders.

"You would go right to the food, eh Mulder?"; Scully taunted, taking his proffered mug.

"I used to love this stuff"; Mulder commented, blowing cool air upon the frothy liquid, savoring the cinnamon smell.

"I've never tried cider before"; Scully admitted.

Mulder looked at her, surprised. He brought the mug to his lips.

"Well, it's delicious. Better than 'Cats'..."

Scully raised her eyebrow.

"...the Musical"; Mulder purred, lamely and began consuming his treat.

Scully followed suit...

-----------

After visiting several booths and with a wood-carved train engine Scully purchased for her nephew's upcoming birthday in tow, Mulder guided Scully toward another booth. It had been well-populated earlier, yet now noticeably had little, if any, patronage. Mulder motioned Scully toward it. The BSU's pie-throwing booth.

Earlier, there had been much commotion surrounding the tiny set-up. Perhaps due to Danny Valedayo's raucous presence, taunting folks to throw pies at him. The personable Valedayo had commandeered quite a few agents--provoking them to lob pies in his face--earning a substantial amount for the booth. Now, however, the apparent fun was gone. A lone person sat in the booth, surrounded by newly delivered pies, seemingly distressed at the lack-of-interest the game now held. It was Holly, formerly of Computer Records--the lone occupant.

"Hello, Holly"; Scully greeted, approaching.

"Hello Dana. Agent Mulder"; she acknowledged, obviously relieved to have someone frequent the booth.

It was apparent she was trying not to show how disheartened she was. She smiled at the agents.

"It's a dollar a pie."; she offered.

"Care to try your hand at it, Agent Mulder?"; she questioned expectantly.

Mulder was taken aback. "Oh, uh..."; he looked to Scully as if to say 'help'. "I don't think so, Holly. I'll give you a donation though."

He reached for his wallet. Mulder just couldn't throw a pie in Holly's face. The thought was unthinkable to him. He couldn't do that to a woman--especially to Holly. Images of her formerly bruised face came floating to mind. How did she get stuck manning this booth? He pulled out two dollars.

"No one seems to want to throw a pie"; Holly muttered dejectedly, accepting Mulder's offered funds.

Mulder and Scully looked to one another.

"I'm sure plenty of people will show, Holly"; Scully encouraged.

"Well..."; Mulder eased uncertainly.

Scully's eyes widened, unsure what her partner would say. Surely he wouldn't offend Holly.

"To be honest, "; Mulder began; "I don't think they will."

Holly looked at him, eyes wide.

"Well..."; he began again, gently explaining. "To be perfectly honest. There's no incentive."

Scully gave him a punishing glare.

"What I mean is..."; he continued; "no one wants to hit you in the face with a pie, Holly. It has to be someone they would want to hit, you know. Someone they'd want to slug, for real...in person. Someone...well, someone like me, for example"; he said self-depreciatingly. "There wouldn't be any pleasure in belting you. Know what I mean?"

Holly shrugged and then smiled at Mulder. He was grateful she understood what he meant. He certainly didn't mean to insult her. That was the last thing he meant to do.

"I think I know what you mean, Mulder"; Scully teased.

"That's very kind-of you to offer, Agent Mulder"; Holly chimed in.

"Offer?"; Mulder questioned.

"Yes"; Holly continued; "to sit in the booth for me".

[WHAT?]

For all the world looking like a deer caught in on-coming headlights, Mulder stared dumbfounded.

Since when did he volunteer to sit in the pie-booth?

Instantly catching on to Mulder's predicament, Scully desperately suppressed her grin.

"Oh,...that's very gentlemanly of you, Mulder"; she prodded.

"Uh..."; Mulder emitted an embarrassed laugh. He was not about to perch himself up in this booth and openly allow the entire Bureau to throw pies in his face. Hell, they did that every day as it was. No need to literally become a live 'Soupy Sales' act.

He was not getting in that booth.

"The BSU booth is donating all its proceeds to the Missing and Exploited Childrens' fund." Holly spoke as she unlatched the booth door, sliding a meringue pie out of the way.

"I must say, Agent Mulder, I think it is a very touching thing your doing...honoring your sister this way."

Silence. Mulder was speechless.

"Oh, I'm sorry"; she fumbled; "I hope you don't mind me saying so."

Hell, when did his sister become a part of this mess? "My sister?"; he questioned, confused.

"Yes"; Holly responded. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to appear insensitive. It's just that...well, I really admire people who stand-up for those whom can't stand-up for themselves."

Mulder stood awkwardly. What to do? How the hell could he back out of this? In Holly's eyes he'd be dishonoring his sister's memory. Oh, hell... To compound matters, Holly seemed to look at him the way one might envision Bambi must look--having just lost his mother. Bambi, the deer--that is.

Her innocent eyes peered hopefully up at Mulder. Though he couldn't fathom what it was, Holly must have seen something in his face because a tiny smile of...--dare he say--admiration slowly crept across her lips. Damn, Samantha used to look at him that way. For a spilt second, Mulder felt like the doting older brother he once was...conceding to his pleading little sibling. He half expected her to call him "Fox!" and hug his neck. Holly gazed at him expectantly. He cringed. Damn it, why was he such a sap for women?

Though he was at a loss for words, Mulder couldn't deny her. He accepted his defeat. He simply nodded his head and smiled. He just didn't have the heart to crush her.

Pleased and rather bashful to have gained his acquisance, Holly bowed her head and stepped away to busy herself, apparently arranging some pies for easier access.

Damn it. His fate was sealed. He was going to get in that booth.

Forlorn and condemned to his pending fate, Mulder turned melodramatically to Scully. "I'm gonna get pies thrown in my face"; he whined.

"Is that new?"; Scully retorted gently, patting his arm.

Mulder fake laughed.

"Well, at least this time it's for a good cause"; she stated optimistically.

Mulder flashed her his best puppy-dog eyes.

"I hardly think Samantha would expect me to have pies thrown in my face for her"; he moaned. "Well, then again, she'd probably find it hilarious"; Mulder amended. "She did have a rather twisted sense of humor."

"Not too unlike her brother?"; Scully muttered.

"You have no idea"; he shrugged.

"Remind me to tell you about the rabbit some time."

Scully nodded. Rabbit? There was probably no end to the tales Mulder could tell.

Mulder groaned under his breath.

He lived in hell.

"You know, It won't kill you, Mulder."

"I don't see you volunteering to be the stooley"; Mulder retorted.

"There'd be no incentive, Mulder"; Scully teased.

Holly returned with a protective smock in tow.

"Well, times up. You'd best take off your jacket Pie-Man"; Scully encouraged.

"Here"; Holly stated, handing over the smock. "This will protect your clothes, Agent Mulder."

"What's to protect my face?"; Mulder teased.

Holly smiled and took his jacket. Scully began helping him into the smock.

"Maybe my nose will deflect the pies. Whatta think, Scully?"

She smirked as they dressed him in relative silence. The blue smock covered down to his knees.

Feeling rather adolescent, Mulder wiggled his fingers.

"I have a strong urge to finger-paint."

Scully rolled her eyes.

"Get in the cage, Mulder."

"Cage? "It's a booth, Scully."

"Whichever"; she taunted, "get inside."

Mockingly dejected, Mulder made his way into the booth. He noticed there was some smeared cream on the wooden plank from a previous victim. He absently wiped it away with his forefinger. He didn't particularly care to have meringue smudged all over his ass. Besides, sitting on this plank like a dunce begging to be slapped was bad enough.

"So..."; Mulder chimed, in a show of bravado; "bring em' on!"

[Yeah, bring em' on. The sooner this was over--the better.]

Mulder briefly wondered how they were going to advertise that 'Fox Mulder' was 'up-for-grabs'. He could always holler out in a circus-show voice; "Step right up, folks. Lob a pie at the Basement Spook! A dollar a throw!"

No sooner had Mulder started to ponder the advertising options, he heard an unrecognizable voice holler out.

"Hey look...Spooky's in the cage!"

Very quickly, both Holly and Scully were surrounded by several manically grinning fellow agents. They seemed to materialize from no where. Hell...

Mulder instinctively felt a tiny knot in his stomach and wanted to bolt. Was this how a mouse felt caught in a trap?

Mulder was beginning to sweat it. How did he always get himself into such prediciments? He looked over the multiplying crowd. Damn, there sure was a lot of them. Damn, they sure seemed eager too. Damn it, who's idea was this pie-throwing contest anyway? It definitely reeked of the old-school Bill Patterson to him. Patterson would have found this very appropriate...

"You must have a death-wish, Mulder"; a lone friendly voice from the pack hollered out.

It was Danny Valedayo.

Mulder smirked. After all, it was the only thing he could do.

"Yeah"; he shrugged; "but at least I'll die for a good cause."

"How much for a pie?"; a voice eagerly called out. Then another. And another. Quite a chorus.

Mulder forced down the frog in his throat as he looked to Scully. Her eyes were supportive as she offered him a sympathetic frown. In fact, she actually looked a little frightened for him. Apparently even she hadn't expected such a strong showing. Spooky Mulder was definitely the main attraction. Holly slid several pies down the table--for easier access.

Mulder cringed and swallowed again. Well, least it was a noble way to go. Or was it?

"Only one throw at a time"; Holly managed, excited by the turn-around.

[Was that supposed to make him feel relieved?] Well, at least it wouldn't be a mobbed-by-mereinge death. It would be a slow and painful process...

Mulder turned stoically toward his first persecutor, the pie already in the fellow's grip. Mulder didn't recognize him. It must have been some jerry-new agent he'd never seen before.

"Hey, what's your name?"; Mulder called out, hoping to distract the man--gain an edge.

"Wilson"; he replied.

"Well, let's see what you've got Agent Wilson"; Mulder taunted.

Since he was condemned, he might as well play the part to the fullest and egg the participants on. Mulder knew they would expect no less.

"Come on, Wilson!"; someone cheered. There were several miscellaneous cheers, a few throwing tips, and a "cream em" hollered from the crowd.

Wilson aimed and lobbed the pie at Mulder...falling about 2 feet short of the target.

"Damn"; Wilson muttered, looking embarrassed.

"I'm up here"; Mulder called out, gesturing as if to guide Wilson to his whereabouts.

There were some laughs in the crowd. Mulder relaxed somewhat. The laughter put him more at ease. He definitely didn't want a hostile crowd. The more levity he could inject into the situation, the better. Who knows...maybe he could come out of this in one piece after all...and still keep his pride in tact. Well, what little pride he had in tact. That was, if he could just keep his cool...

Another pie suddenly came soaring at him. Damn, he wasn't prepared for that one! Who did that?! Fortunately, it too missed its intended target, meringue splattering noisily on the floor. Some of the creamy waves landed on Mulder's new shoes.

"Hey, not the shoes, Man."; Mulder jostled still reeling from the abrupt fly-by pie.

He looked up at the source of the thrown desert...traced back the trajectory...anxious to see its origin. And the origin stared blatantly back.

Mulder was looking right into the face of a former nemesis--Tom Colton.

"Oh, I'll get you Spooky. I'm aiming right for your center"; Colton huffed--laying down another dollar.

"Straight at the center of that big-assed crooked nose."

There was an audible "Oooh..." from the crowd. It was clear there was no love lost between these two. Scully shifted uncomfortably, feeling somewhat responsible for their festered hostility. After all, she'd introduced them. She hoped this didn't get too out-of-hand. She hoped she'd have a partner left when this was all over.

Mulder couldn't help but smile. His nose had always silently been a source of embarrassment for him--especially when it out-grew the rest of his face as a teen. Oh, well...a nose was a nose. It was a part of him--a part he'd grudgingly come to terms with. Besides, it was awfully juvenile of Colton to poke fun at one's appearence. He wasn't exactly Elvis Presley himself. Colton had always been such a prick. Of course, he'd never say as much, but he'd felt as much. He'd just have to disarm him with his wit.

"It's a pie deflector, Colton"; Mulder joked. "If you could actually pitch straight instead of crooked...maybe you'd find out."

That retort elicited another "Oooh..." from the crowd. Mulder could feel the adrenaline starting to pump. He could feel the anticipation mounting in the crowd. He was going to get creamed...sooner or later. He just sincerely hoped it wasn't by the likes of the butt-kissing Tom Colton.

"Hey!"; Mulder called out suddenly as Colton started to claim his next throw. "First throw is a buck. Second is five bucks."

[ Chew on that Colton; Mulder thought.]

"Hell, I ain't shoveling out five bucks on you."; Colton spat. "You ain't worth five dollars."

There were some chuckles in the crowd. The audience was really getting into it.

Suddenly serious, Mulder spoke; "It's for the kids, Colton."

Mulder instinctively knew he could get the crowd on his side with that one. Colton was now cast as the bad guy--hustling little kids out of their money. All eyes were on Colton.

"Damn it"; he muttered. Tom Colton reluctantly plopped a five on the table. Spooky Mulder was gonna get it.

Colton reared back, pie in hand. The crowd cheering him on. Damn it, this one looked like the one. Boy, Mulder knew he was gonna get it. Straight in the face...and by none other than Tom Colton. Damn it. The pie went sailing through the air...There was a cheer...and Mulder instinctively ducked. [SPLAT] The pie hit the wall.

There were some hollers from the crowd. Colton swore. And Holly cheered for Mulder.

By the splatter-pattern it was apparent the pie would have been a direct hit. But, Mulder had ducked. He was breathless and actually surprised he'd pulled that off. Was ducking allowed? He looked toward the crowd sheepishly, unsure what would happen. Perhaps death by merigne was in his near future after all.

"Hey, that's cheating!"; Colton fouled.

"There's no rule against ducking"; Holly chimed in, suddenly supporting Mulder's escapism.

She was ecstatic at the crowd's participation. Anything Fox Mulder did at this point was just fuel to the fire. Mulder was a hero as far as she was concerned. She smiled brightly, gathering additional pies. And to think, she was afraid she'd fail at managing this booth. She slid the pies toward the crowd. Now, this was a game!

Mulder, however, didn't share Holly's glee. He was leery. In fact, he feared the crowd may agree with Colton that he'd pulled a foul and flog him. However, to his genuine surprise, the crowd seemingly was entertained by his unexpected prowess. Mulder even heard someone clap. Incredulous, he realized his quick action actually seemed to heighten the game in the eyes of the spectators. Seemingly, they now viewed Mulder as a worthy challenge--a worthy opponent. The crowd was becoming absolutely charged. It multiplied tenfold.

"You never played baseball, Colton? Basketball?"; Mulder taunted, more openly now.

His confidence was restored. He was actually starting to enjoy himself here. He quickly looked to Scully whom was shaking her head. He couldn't tell if she approved or disapproved of his actions. He could clearly see the little smile on her lips though. Mulder felt renewed, energized.

He'd impressed his Scully.

"Give me another pie!'; Colton hollered.

"I'm gonna wipe the floor with you, Spook."

"Other than your wiping your ass Tom, the floor's the only thing your wiping here"; Mulder sassed.

The crowd broke out into laughter.

"Oooh..."

"Get em' Tom"; someone chimed.

After plopping down another five, Tom hefted another pie in his hand. He stuck his finger in it, then into his mouth.

"Hope you like lemon, Spooky"; he uttered and in one smooth motion lobbed the pie at Mulder.

[SPLISH]

Most of the pie creamed the wall, but unfortunately Tom Colton knicked Mulder's right arm. Fox Mulder had yellow pie filling dripping from his hand.

Mulder stared at his hand a moment, then brought the coated digits to his mouth.

"Mmmm..."; Mulder purred, childishly licking his fingers. He'd never give that prick Colton any satisfaction, "...tangy."

Mulder smacked his lips. "Such a shame about your shi..."; he began to curse, then changed mid-sentence, "...I mean, your shotty aim though. Maybe you could log in some practice time on the firing range--improve your targeting abilities?"; Mulder goaded.

Still fuming, Colton began to reach for his third pie when he abruptly realized he was out of miscellaneous funds. He was down to three bucks. Hell, he couldn't afford to take another shot at Mulder.

"Somebody let me borrow five?"; Colton implored to the crowd.

"Why don't you give somebody else a shot, Colton?"; Mulder interjected. "Preferably someone with a better aim"; he joked.

There were a few laughs at Mulder's barb when the crowd began to part. Something was happening. But what? Perplexed, Mulder couldn't tell.

Uh, oh...then it hit him. It seemed as though someone was going to grant Mulder's request after all. Someone new was starting to come forward. Even from his lofty position, Mulder couldn't see whom it was--but the crowd was obviously parting for this fellow. It must be someone of importance or someone with some weight with the guys...or someone rather large...or...

Suddenly, the person was at the forefront of the crowd. It was at that moment Fox Mulder caught his first glimpse of the individual...of the individual that was gonna knock his face off. The individual that was gonna knock his face off and enjoy it...every minute of it. HELL...

It was none other than AD Walter Skinner.

The rat trap snapped shut...right on Mulder's ass.

Hell, it would have to be Skinner.

Feeling the tinniest bit uncomfortable, Mulder shifted. There were a few calls from the crowd. Several "Ooohs" and "You're dead meat now, Spooky" were the most audible.

It was almost as if the crowd was aware of the conflictive history between these two men. It was either that or everyone knew the space-lunacy Mulder prophesied versus the Marine-temper Walter Skinner possessed undoubtedly mixed like oil and water. Thus, the general consensus was Walter Skinner was the ultimate foil for the Spook.

Unerringly, Skinner said nothing. He just stood there and stared at Mulder. Suppressing an almost embarrassed grin, Mulder looked straight-faced at his boss.

"Sir."; he acknowledged.

Skinner stood there glaring up at Mulder. No one stirred a muscle. Everyone eager for the showdown. Skinner's silent, imposing presence bringing the entertainment to new heights.

"Agent Mulder"; Skinner growled, finally acknowledging Mulder's greeting.

Skinner continued to stare, ominously, satisfactorily.

One could tell this rare opportunity was a moment of sheer pleasure for the AD. One in which he was, no doubt, going to take full advantage of. The chance to finally knock his recalcitrant subordinate back down from outer space had to be giving him an emotional high. Skinner's eyes were positively a glow.

Hell, Mulder was starting to sweat now. Yep, he was definitely beginning to feel like a puny, squirming rat...held by his tail...under the potentially lethal claws of a giant, looming cat. He swallowed.

Mulder couldn't help himself, he had to say something. He didn't want the crowd to see him squirm and Skinner's unerring glare would get to him otherwise.

"A golden opportunity, eh Sir?"; Mulder quipped, trying hard not to sound like a scared little boy.

Apparently, Skinner was thinking that exact thing. Instead of responding, his eyes still locked with Mulder's, Skinner deftly removed his jacket.

[Oh, hell]

Mulder couldn't help himself. A tiny embarrassed laugh escaped his mouth as he hung his head low. Oh, boy...was he going to get it.

The crowd instinctively knew what Skinner's action meant. The Spook was a dead man. They cheered.

Mulder raised his head up to face his boss. He anxiously licked his lips, trying to banish the smile that had flashed there. Skinner briskly plopped down a ten dollar bill and promptly rolled up his sleeves.

Holly obligingly slid two pies in front of him on the table.

"No"; Skinner corrected her. "Those two"; he gestured. "The creamy ones."

Mulder shrugged, suppressing an amused profanity. Damn it. Here he was sitting helpless like a total goob--just waiting for Skinner to knock the crap out of him. How was he ever going to get all that cream out of his hair? And out of his nose? Out of his ears? Out of his throat? After all the ulcers he'd caused this man, Skinner was really going to make him pay.

He hefted one of the pies..

"Bring it on, Sir"; Mulder taunted, in his last effort of bravado.

After all, what else could he do? Hell, this was going to hurt.

Skinner paused a moment, pie in hand. "I've been waiting a long time for an opportunity like this, Mulder"; he purred.

Some people in the audience chuckled.

Skinner weighed the pie in his large hand, grinned at Mulder and took aim.

Mulder's eyebrows raised in surprise. For the first time in Mulder's memory, his boss actually allowed a grin to break-out on his face. This must be a special occasion indeed.

He didn't know Skinner could smile.

The moment passed...and the pie went sailing through the air. Mulder cringed in anticipation. Oh, hell... [SPLAT] Direct hit on his chest.

The crowd applauded. Skinner smirked. And Mulder was grateful.

[Whew...]

The full force of the blow had sent him reeling. He couldn't imagine if he'd taken that directly to his face. It would have hurt like hell. Anyway, his chest would probably be red from the impact as it was. A tiny bit of pie had landed on his lips and chin. He licked the goody off. Well, at least this was a semi-pleasant form of torture. Wait! Oh hell... he'd forgotten. There was a second...

[SPLOSH]

...pie.

Almost directly atop the first, the second pie slammed into Mulder.

This one was chocolate...and gooey.

The soggy crust slowly slid down his chest as did the aluminum pie pan. At this moment, he was grateful for the smock. Head down eyeing the oozing desert, Mulder's eyes flashed on his boss--his trademark Mulder-look...amused and beguiling.

The crowd chuckled. Skinner dusted his hands--as if his job here were finished. He began to lower his raised sleeves.

In all honesty, Mulder couldn't help but be amused. His boss had hit him dead-on. Considering all the woe he'd brought to the man, Mulder knew he more than deserved it. Better Skinner any day than that prick Colton. In fact, Mulder was a bit perplexed. Skinner's aim was a little lower than what he'd expected. After all, there was no doubt in Mulder's mind that Skinner could have hit him square on the jaw if he'd wanted to. His aim was just too good. Maybe Skinner purposely spared him a pie in the face? But why?

"You've done this before, haven't you, Sir?"; Mulder lightly retorted, complimenting his boss.

Skinner just smirked as he slipped into his jacket.

"Hey"; a voice called out; "why don't you give it a go, Scully?"

Mulder abruptly looked up. Scully? He sought her out.

Scully, too, had obviously been caught-up in the Mulder-Skinner show and seemed surprised to be singled out. She straightened and facing the crowd, prepared to speak. Before she could utter a word, however, Mulder interrupted her.

"Scully would never throw a pie at me"; he stated bluntly, a fact. Nope. Scully wouldn't do that.

Scully was taken aback. The surprise clearly showed on her face. She eyed Mulder. He was making her decisions for her here? Was he goading her? No, Mulder seemed too smug at the moment--so sure she'd follow his lead.

The crowd began to goad her though.

"Come on, Scully!"

"Get em'! He gives you enough hell every day!"

"Naw...Mrs. Spooky won't do it"; someone else taunted.

Beside her, Skinner gave her an approving nudge--urging her own as well. And that was all it took. A second later her decision was made. Scully was lying down her money, hefting her own pie selection.

"Scully?"; Mulder managed, as if betrayed.

The crowd continued to goaded her.

"Scully? You wouldn't"; Mulder appeared incredulous. Not Scully. She looked him dead-in-the-eyes.

[Uh, oh.]

Then again...yes, Scully. She had shot him. Damn, he'd miscalculated.

A tiny smile pursed on her lips, reminding Mulder there was no bitterness involved here--not between the two of them. They were solid. Well, Scully amended, Mulder did have it coming to him, after all. Truth be told, she was still a little sore over that goat-sucker thing...not to mention the balloon tales.

Instinctively, Mulder's face transformed. If he couldn't appeal to her reason, he would appeal to her on another level.

His puppy-dog eyes went into full-effect mode. He solemnly looked at his partner. His "have mercy", though unspoken, was clearly evident. He was trying to psyche her out.

Skinner smirked to himself. He knew of Mulder and Scully's unspoken communication, but had never seen it so clearly demonstrated before. It was a complex dance woven between the partners. Though in front of a crowd, they were the only two present. Quite frankly, he'd never seen Mulder use this particular type of subterfuge before--appealing to Scully's innate, compassionate feelings. Maybe Mulder subconsciously knew more about his partner's strong feelings toward himself than even he realized. Skinner had always suspected their feelings for one another went deep. But, it was also clearly obvious neither would ever dream of revealing these feelings to the other--not openly anyway. Besides being a Bureau taboo, Skinner sensed each was too afraid to lose the friendship of the other.

Scully returned Mulder's little pouty gaze and shook her head negatively. A silent"It's not going to work, Mulder" was conveyed. She was enjoying the power-trip this pie was affording her. Let Mulder squirm. It was good for him. She prepared to launch the pie.

Damn; Mulder thought. How to get out of this? She was going to do it. Scully was actually going to...

[SPLAT]

The pie hit him--a direct hit. Mulder was frozen. It was a direct hit alright, but not at his face. It slammed right into his lap--embarrassingly right at his groin.

There were a few "Whoops" from the on-lookers and Mulder innately blushed.

The crowd peeled into laughter. "Good shot, Scully!"; someone cheered.

Knocking the sliding shell to the floor, Mulder peered up at her. Scully was actually blushing herself. Apparently, she had never thrown a pie before and the aim was way off the intended target. She hadn't meant to aim at his lower region. It was just dumb luck.

Well, there was only one way out of this little embarrassing pickle. Swiping at the creamy remains, Mulder couldn't help himself. In a low and husky voice he taunted her; "Wanna lick?"

"OOOH..." The crowd was a flame.

Skinner gave Mulder a disapproving look.

Without missing a beat, however, Scully huskily retorted; "Wanna autopsy?"

There were a few claps as Scully quickly hoisted her second purchase.

"Wait, Now!"; Mulder called out. "I say let's give somebody else a..." [WHAP!]

Perfectly executed, for the first time since Mulder had made himself a target, he sustained a direct hit--right in the kisser. The crowd broke-out into applause.

Scully couldn't help but smile. He had it coming...and she was glad she was the one to give it to him. Scully did hope the blow didn't hurt Mulder too much--both physically and his pride, that is. Knowing Mulder though, he was probably secretly delighted that she was the one to take him out.

The crowd still bubbling, everyone seemed to be waiting to glimpse Mulder's reaction at being had.

Gravity on his side, the pie pan stickily fell from Mulder's coated face into his lap. He instinctively swiped at the filling covering his eyes. He swabbed off as much of the offending substance from his eyes as he could--enough to allow himself to see again. The pie on his lips naturally ended up in his curious mouth. Hmm...it was banana cream. Odd, he thought. He didn't seem to have much luck whenever banana cream pies were involved. Maybe there was an underlying X-file there? He'd have to consult with Scully on that one.

Instead of eyeing Scully, as everyone anticipated, Mulder, with pie coating his face and hands, looked directly at AD Skinner.

"I smell a transfer, Sir"; Mulder bluntly stated.

Scully was taken aback. What was Mulder talking about? Surely, he couldn't be...

"The firing range could really benefit from Agent Scully's expertise"; he purred, allowing a tiny smile on his creamed lips.

Scully smirked.

AD Skinner eyed her; "For the first time, we agree on something, Mulder"; he conceded. He gave Scully a well-done nod and satisfactorily made his way through the crowd.

"Hey"; Valedayo called out; "Anybody wanna take another shot at me?!"

"You'll be dead-meat, Valedayo"; someone yelled.

The crowd had a new guinea pig.

Danny promptly went up to Holly and grabbed an additional smock--offering himself up as victim.

Mulder smiled gratefully. He knew what his friend was doing. He was allowing Mulder a way out. Good. Mulder was tired after all...and didn't know how much longer he could fence off the entire Bureau throwing at pies at him. He'd willingly hand-over all his season pass tickets to the man--anytime he asked.

Scully approached the side of the booth and unlatched the door. She offered Mulder a convenient towel and a tiny grin.

Mulder took the pro-offered towel and wiped his face clean. He smiled bewitching at her and promptly stepped out of the line of fire. Valedayo slid into his old spot and the reverie began anew.

Taking off the smock, Mulder flashed his eyes at Scully.

"You know, you can cover me in cream any time you like, Scully"; he teased.

"I'll remember that"; Scully purred. "Now, let's get you cleaned up G-man".

With his jacket in tow, Scully led Mulder. They deftly made their escape through the weakest point in the crowd. Her hand rested affectionately on his arm.

"Think I did my bit for the kids?"; Mulder questioned, seeking out the nearest men's room.

"I think so"; Scully nodded. "I'm sure your sister's very proud"; she smiled.

Mulder looked at her, surprised she mentioned Sam. He allowed a grin of his own. It was nice to hear her mentioned in the present tense.

Yeah, he thought, Sam probably would have been proud and endlessly amused.

The men's restroom in sight, Mulder started to enter. He paused at the doorway, simply taking in the sight of his endearing companion. She handed him his jacket.

"Now"; she stated, a new topic of conversation starting; "when you get out of there, I expect to here all about this rabbit you mentioned"; she teased.

"Rabbit?"; Mulder asked perplexed, suddenly fishing some cream out of his ear.

She nodded.

"Oh..."; he recalled his earlier admission. That was dumb of him. Why had he mentioned that rabbit tale?

Mulder shrugged. "It's just another example of me being a goob"; he stated, embarrassed.

Scully smiled. He truly had no idea the effect he had on her.

"Well, you'd best go clean-up." She gestured to the door.

"Yeah"; Mulder mumbled, feeling slightly foolish.

"Oh, Holly told me she was sending down a pie--just for us--as a 'thank you' gesture"; Scully stated as a last minute thought.

"Oh?"; Mulder laughed ironically.

"Yeah."

A thought occurred to him. "It isn't banana cream, by any chance, is it?"

Scully was surprised. "Yeah. She asked what flavor...and I told her banana, if she had any left. How did you know, Mulder?"

Mulder nodded, seemingly deep-in-thought. "When I come out of the bathroom..."; he muttered enigmatically, disappearing into the restroom; "we'll need to talk, Scully."

She looked in after him, perplexed.
The door closed.
She shook her head.
She'd never fully decipher Fox Mulder. But, that certainly didn't mean she wouldn't try.

-----------------

end