Twenty-Second Week
Office of Dr. Irene Temple
"Mike, hold still," Dr. Temple admonished her patient. "The baby is finally in a good position to tell the gender, but I won't get a good reading if you don't stop fidgeting!"
"I don't fidget," Mike protested. "That damn gel is cold."
"Just a few more minutes, Mike," Mulder soothed.
"I wish you'd stop humoring me," Mike grumbled, but he hung onto Mulder's hand.
"I've got it, I've got it. There! Well, guys, last chance to change your minds. Do you want to know your baby’s gender?"
"Yes!" they chorused.
"Alright. Congratulations. It's a boy!" She smiled at the happy couple as they demonstrated their mutual affection. "Come on, guys, get a room!"
"Aw, Doc, be a pal!" protested Mulder, reluctantly breaking their lip-lock. "I'll get you a good seat at the wedding."
“So you're going to make it official?"
"And legal," Mike added. "If I have to be a woman, I'm going to take advantage of it. That's where you come in."
"Oh, yes, the Certificate of Dual Sexuality. Some to my office, gentlemen, and we'll start the paperwork."
Early that Afternoon
La Tabla
"That looks good, mind if I try..."
"Uh-uh," said Mike, his arm curled around his plate protectively, "Mine."
Mulder pretended to pout. They had gone to the restaurant to celebrate, and Mulder was pleased to see Mike packing the food away. Though Mike had gained weight, Dr. Temple was expressing concern he wasn't gaining enough for someone of his build. Plus, he was still slightly anemic.
"Drink your milk, Mike."
"Yes, Mom." Mike rolled his eyes, but he dutifully drained his glass. He belched contentedly.
"Gross."
Mike stuck out his tongue in reply. When he had Mulder laughing, heswooped in for the kill. "Time to put out, Fox."
"Here?"
"You know what I mean. Don't think I didn't notice how you side-stepped the issue yesterday. Very nicely done, by the way, but it's time we talked. So, why did tall, blond and alien want our kid?"
Mulder sighed. "Okay, the Gunmen gave me the URL to an encrypted website that the bounty-hunters are using to communicate. It seems that when the colonists pulled up stakes, some of the bounty-hunters got left behind. They couldn't make it to the rendezvous point or something. Anyway, they found themselves stuck here without support or resources."
"Wait a minute. This bounty-hunter was going to take our kid for money? Who would pay for an unborn child?"
"Try not to get too upset..."
"The only thing making me upset is you not leveling with me. Give."
"The alien didn't know the kid was mine. In fact, they had plans to stay far away from me and Scully. Remember, we're the ones who know how they can be killed." Mike made a 'go on' gesture. "They wanted the fetus of a DS pregnancy to sell to unscrupulous stem-cell researchers."
Mike's mouth dropped open. "Stem-cell researchers?"
"Yeah, it seems that some mad scientist wannabe came up with a theory that stem cells from a DS pregnancy may provide the key to fully utilizing the potential of stem cells."
"Fox, I've barely heard of stem cells. Would that be worth killing somebody for?"
Mulder searched his almost perfect memory, and he recited, "Stem cells differ from other kinds of cells in the body. All stem cells ” regardless of their source ” have three general properties: they are capable of dividing and renewing themselves for long periods; they are unspecialized; and they can give rise to specialized cell types.
"Today, donated organs and tissues are often used to replace those that are diseased or destroyed. Unfortunately, the number of people suffering from these disorders far outstrips the number of organs available for transplantation. Stem cells offer the possibility of a renewable source of replacement cells and tissues to treat myriad diseases, conditions, and disabilities including Parkinson's and Alzheimer's diseases, spinal cord injury, stroke, burns, heart disease, diabetes, osteoarthritis and rheumatoid arthritis.
"There is almost no realm of medicine that might not be touched by this innovation.
"Okay, Mike, you tell me. Would some unscrupulous group of greedy medical researchers find that sufficient motive for murder?"
"Damn!"
"Exactly."
Mike pushed his plate away. "I'm glad I ate first. What the hell are we going to do?"
Mulder squeezed his hand. "It's okay. Like I told you, they want to give me a wide berth. Now that they know the baby is mine, you're both safe."
"Maybe," said Mike, "but what about everybody else? I'm not the only DS around, Fox. What happens if they try this again with somebody else? I can't stand by and let a person die if I can help it!" Mike saw something in Mulder's expression. "You have an idea, don't you?"
"Maybe," he admitted. "But it's risky. It could not only put you and the baby in danger, but we also lose a valuable resource."
“Fox..."
"I can't make this decision by myself. I have to consult the group."
"Group?"
"Me, Scully, Walter, Doggett and Reyes. The core group, anyway," he amended. "I will not make this move unilaterally. They have to be consulted. It affects their safety as well." He sighed. "We're getting together next week, anyway. I have a proposal for them, if you agree."
Late that afternoon
Armani’s
"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Mike said to Mulder. "This suit is going to cost more than I make in a month!"
"Relax and stop wiggling!" Mulder ordered, earning him a grateful look from the tailor and a glare from Mike. “You need new clothes, remember?"
"I’ve got clothes," he grumbled. “That's a matter of opinion. And you can’t wear sweat suits to work. Stop whining and let me do this for you. I think we might save this one for our wedding.” Mulder stepped back and admired the way the black fabric of the Italian cut suit accented Mike’s sardonic good looks.
“I don’t whine!” he whined. “Besides, we don’t even know if it’ll still fit then.”
"Oh, it will!" assured the tailor. "We at Armani's were the first to tailor clothes for the well-dressed DS. If there are any alterations tobe made, they will be made at no cost!
"Also, when we're done here, you may wish to see out line of baby carriers. They are made of the same fine fabrics as our clothes, and each can be designed to complement your ensemble."
"See?" said Mulder. "Just put yourself in my hands, and we'll be the best dressed grooms in New York City."
"Ok, just don't pick out my ties."
"That's rich from somebody who wears plaid ties!" Mulder hooted.
"At least they match my suits. Look at your ties and a person would think you're color-blind."
No response.
"Fox?"
"Did I forget to mention that?"
Next morning
Office of Mulder and Scully
FBI Building
“I can’t believe he’s still mad at me.” Mulder groused. “And you think this is funny, don’t you?”
“Definitely,” agreed Scully, still giggling. “This man is good for you! I never was able to keep you in line. Mike seems to be doing just fine.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? You’re my anchor, my Rock of Gibraltar! You keep me focused.”
“Sure. As far as work is concerned. How many times have I let you drag me to the ends of the earth to investigate leads made of will o’ the wisps and virtually nonexistent evidence? How many times have you called me at three in the morning to help you chase down a theory that suddenly hit you? Not everyone is an insomniac, Mulder. And let us not forget,” she added with some irritation, “that you were sick and dying for nearly a year, and you didn’t tell me. That still hurts, by the way.”
“Yeah, well,” he said uncomfortably. “So, what’s your point?”
“Just imagine yourself trying that with Mike.”
Mulder thought about it, and he had to return her grin. “He’d knock my teeth down my throat.”
“Undoubtedly. Like I said, Mike is good for you.”
They were startled by a knock at the door. “Come in,” said Scully.
The door opened and a middle-aged man wearing a gray suit walked in. His long salt and pepper hair was pulled back into a bun at the back of his head. He had a friendly, knowing smile that was accentuated by the myriad of wrinkles at the corners of his mouth and eyes.
“Hello, Mr. Mulder. Miss Scully.”
“Hello,” said Mulder. “You seem familiar, but I don’t think we’ve met.”
“Many people say that. My name is Carl Hosteen. My uncle Albert told me you need someone to bless your marriage. I am not only a holy man, I am also a Justice of the Peace in the state of New York. That covers you legally and spiritually!” His eyes sparkled with humor.
Mulder’s face lit up with a brilliant smile. “Fantastic!”
“Mulder!” exclaimed Scully. “Albert Hosteen died five years ago!”
“So, what’s your point?”
That afternoon
Staten Island police station
“Mike don’t you think you’re over reacting a little?” said Frankie. “So he’s color-blind. What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is that he should have told me! This is something that effects our child, for God’s sake!”
“Wait a minute. I thought color-blindness was passed on from the mother’s side. No offense,” Frankie said in response to the look Mike gave her.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, this kid doesn’t have a mother! He’s got two fathers. I have an X and a Y chromosome, thank you very much. I called Dr. Temple. Our son has a fifty-fifty chance of being color-blind.”
Frankie’s eyes went wide. “Son? You’re having a boy?” At Mike’s reluctant nod, Frankie shouted out. “Hey, people, it’s a boy! Mike’s having a boy!”
The squad room was divided between those who moaned in disappointment and those who pumped the air in victory. Frankie was one of the latter. “Alright!” she said with glee.
Mike cooly took in the evidence and then declared his finding. “You’ve been taking bets, haven’t you?”
“Well, duh. Don’t we always have a Baby Trifecta? I won the first race!” “I’m so happy for you,” he said glumly. “So, what’s the next two races?
“Date and the time of day. Hey, you couldn’t arrange to have this kid about two weeks early and between twelve and three in the afternoon, could you?”
“Why, Detective, are you trying to influence the outcome of the wager?” Despite himself, Mike had to grin. “I have it on good authority that that’s illegal.”
“So’s gambling. Well?”
Mike was interrupted by a wall of flowers. Red roses, approximately two dozen in number.
“I’m sorry,” said Mulder. “I did not mean to keep anything from you, I just forgot. Peace offering?” He withdrew the flowers and extended a gold box.
//Godiva Chocolates! Be still my beating heart!// “Okay, you’re forgiven.” Mike snatched the box and sat down at his desk prepared to savor.
“Could we share?”
“No.”
Frankie shook her head. “It’s lunch. I’ll see you guys later.” As she walked away, she could have sworn she heard Mike say, “Navajo?!”
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