My Favorite Day by Mish mish_rose@yahoo.com Rating: PG Category: MSR, Buddyfic Distribution: Anywhere is fine, just let me know where! Disclaimer: I have to say it again? Okay - CC owns them, I don't. Spoilers: None, though this fic is technically post-Existence. A year post-Existence, actually. Summary: What's a Buddy to do when his Dad won't listen to him? Note: Sequel to "My Favorite Word." It's best to read that first, otherwise this may make no sense a'tall. More notes at end. My Favorite Day He calls me 'Buddy' but I don't think he knows. Sometimes I think he does, when his eyes narrow while he's looking at me. But then again, most of those times, I've just assaulted him with a handful of mashed sweet peas. Which I hate, by the way. And yes, 'assaulted' is the right word. One of many I've learned since I came to be with him and Scully. Little good it does me though; my mouth still don't work so good. Doesn't. Whatever. I get tired of correcting myself when all I want to do is scream at him that it's ME! Me, Mulder. Your buddy, the one you gave language to, the one you gave Scully to, the one *you* gave to Scully. Oh, yes, I know all about that, too, despite the fact that I'm not supposed to know yet. Thank goodness they moved me from Scully's room a while back. It was fascinating to watch the first couple of times they did it, but after that, it got boring. Not to mention rather... icky. I know that's not a real word, but it's the best I can think of right now. Maybe that's why Mulder can't make the connection with me; he's too busy kissing Scully. And boy, does he enjoy kissing her. I can see it - *feel* it - every time he does it. Why can't he feel *me?* Connect with *me?* The light in my room comes on at last. It's about time; I was beginning to wonder if I was going to be stuck here all day, sitting and staring up at this ridiculous set of pink and yellow animals hanging from strings. I know what an elephant is already, guys. "Hey, Buddy." The soft good morning makes me smile and kick my legs. I wish I had more control over my body, and sometimes I do, but then again - Mulder blames my 'pea assault' on my lack of coordination. Ha - if he only knew. He finally untangles that sissy blanket from around my legs. When I get enough teeth, those fluffy white lambs are *mine.* His grimacing face hovers over me. "Whew... someone needs a diaper change." No shit. Well, lots of it, actually. Good. Too busy kissing Scully to come see about me, huh? Ahhh. When he picks me up, I feel my muscles shift and stretch. That feels *so* good. No, no! Don't put me back down again! "Shh, Buddy. I'm just gonna change you." I may not be able to speak so good, but I can cry. *Very* good. "Aw, c'mon, Will. Don't do this to Dad." He's working as fast as he can, but I want to make him suffer a bit. That'll show him to fool around with Scully while I lie here in filth. "Your mom's gone to work, Will. You're stuck with me, so it's no use crying." Wait a minute. He thinks I'm crying for Scully? One other thing I've learned - I can turn the tears on and off like a faucet. As he finishes up, he pauses and smiles at me. "Good boy. That wasn't so bad, was it?" Nah. I just like giving him trouble. Before long, we're making breakfast. Well, he's making breakfast. I'm crawling around on the kitchen floor. Something I've learned to like very much. Though I can't get into the cabinets anymore since the first day I crawled in here. Who knew something called 'Aunt Jemima' could make such a mess? I mean, I play with Aunt Tara and she's sweet, too, but not nearly as sticky. "'You say it's your birthday!'" Mulder sings, dancing from the pantry to the microwave, giving me a cool, happy wink. "'It's my birthday too, yeah!'" Sitting up, I try to imitate him, waving my hands in the air. "Da - da - da!" Damn. Wish I could make him hear me. "No, no, no." He stops, looking at me from what seems like a mile away. "All right, so I can't sing worth a shit." "Sthit!" *That* earns me a panicked rush to pick me up. "Shh, Will. Not nice. No saying 'shit,' okay?" "Sthit, sthit, sthit!" I punctuate each word with my fist to his cheek. Listen to me! "All right, Buddy," he says, moving me to the high chair. No! Not the high chair! As he straps me in, he continues, "It's good that you can say some words, but some of them aren't nice, you know?" I like that he speaks to me like I'm an adult most of the time. Scully does too. But Grandma? Sometimes I get so mad at her.... "And if your mom ever heard you say that?" He moves to the microwave and takes out a bowl. "Jesus, Buddy. We'd *both* be in big trouble. And don't tell her I let you suck your thumb, okay?" Sitting beside me, he reaches for the spoon on the table and stirs the mess in the bowl. Oatmeal again? Put some Aunt Jemima on that, would you Mulder? "You wanna try eating on your own again, Will?" he asks, blowing on the clumpy stuff. Sure. You could hear me say so if you'd just *listen.* After a few moments, he places the plastic bowl in front of me and I take the spoon in hand. Wonder if it's Superman on the bottom of the bowl or that silly Kermit the Frog? Well, only one way to find out, and that means I have to eat this stuff. Or not. There's more than one way to get to the bottom of my bowl, you know. "After Mom gets home this evening, we're gonna have some birthday cake. I think you'll like birthday cake," he rattles on, smiling at me. His hand fists around my sippy cup like he's holding an imaginary something. I don't know what, but it looks foolish as he brings it to his mouth and speaks to it. "You're a year old today, William Scully-Mulder." He sounds like one of those plastic people on that television channel he likes to watch. CNN, I think it's called. "How does it feel?" His hand moves toward me. "Ready for Disneyworld?" Splat! Buddy shoots, he scores! "Will!" You know, I really like hitting Mulder with food. Oatmeal is good, nice and sticky. Not as messy as peas, but it'll do. Hey - is that a red cape I see under that white stuff? Quick - I gotta rescue Superman! He thinks I don't hear it. And it feels wonderful to say it right back to him as the bowl slides off my tray into his lap. "Sthit!" ********** I love baths. This is my second one today, actually. After the oatmeal war this morning, Mulder and I took a bath together. *That* one was more fun than this one. We had lots of toys in the tub, really neat toys like battleships and dinosaurs. This bath, though, all I have to play with is my rubber duck. All my fun toys are still in the net hanging on that wall over there. I guess it's because Scully is washing me. Sometimes she forgets to get my other toys. I like Scully, really. A whole lot. Not as much as Mulder, though it's close. I don't see Scully that much; Mulder stays with me all day. Now, Scully has some good things about her that Mulder doesn't. She smells really good, for one thing. And she's pretty; I love looking at her. Guess I get that from Mulder. I smile through the baby shampoo when I see Mulder come into the bathroom. He kneels on the floor behind her and hugs her, putting his chin on her shoulder. "Kitchen's clean," he says. "Sorry about that." She takes a wet hand from my hair and touches his cheek. "That's okay. It's Will's first birthday - letting him loose on the cake is a tradition." Chocolate cake. Now I know why Mulder once told me that chocolate was one of Scully's favorite words. It tastes so good. I've decided no more oatmeal for me. Mulder better give me chocolate cake for breakfast or else.... "You're tired, Scully. Let me finish up with Will." Mulder's voice is different; he's talking to Scully like he's afraid. Of what? "I'm fine, Mulder." She takes her hand from him to rinse my hair with the shower thingie. Even through the spray I can tell he doesn't like her answer. "No you're not. You're working too hard lately, Scully." He's worried about her. It makes me worry, too. I feel a cry coming on, but I don't want to. I don't want to make her feel worse. "We're going to have to run some tests, Mulder. I want to be sure." Tests? Like they did to me and Mulder? Great. Now I can't help but cry. She tries, but can't help herself. I see tears come to her eyes when she looks at me. It makes me cry harder. "I know," he says, his voice scaring me. I see him close his eyes hard, though Scully can't see. His arms go around her tighter. She gives up trying not to cry then, her silent tears lost in my cries. The hand touching my head shakes. Mulder reaches over and takes the shower off. He gives her cheek a kiss and stands up, bringing her with him. "That's it. Go to bed, Scully. I'll take care of Will." She doesn't say anything, just gives him a hug and walks out the bathroom door. Mulder pulls the plug on the tub and picks me up, wrapping me in a towel that smells like Scully, too. "Shh, Buddy. It's gonna be okay, I promise." What's gonna be okay? Is there something wrong? Something wrong with Scully? Something wrong with me? All of a sudden, I don't feel so good. As he dries me, my thumb sneaks into my mouth. ********** For a while, things go pretty good. They don't cry and, aside from the times Mulder just won't listen to me, neither do I. Scully still goes to work almost every day. But I've discovered that there is such a thing as a weekend. It's pretty cool; all three of us lie in bed and watch TV, then maybe go out into the world. Saturday is good, but I don't like it as much as Sunday. Saturday is 'chore' day, as Scully calls it. She's busy those days. Sometimes I go out with her, and I like the grocery store fine, but I miss Mulder. Sunday is much better. We go to this neat place called church and I hear music and get to see Grandma. Mulder doesn't come with us, but we see him later when we eat. I've also learned that Sunday dinner is a big thing; for Grandma, anyway. If we don't eat out in the world, we eat at Grandma's. Either way, it's fun. Very fun, very different. I try not to assault Mulder when we do Sunday dinner. He's proud of me then, I can tell. Today is Sunday. I know, because we saw Grandma today. I think it's a special day, too. Because she told Mulder, "Happy Father's Day!" when she saw him. 'Father' means 'Dad,' you know. I wish I could say 'Dad.' It would make him so happy. "Da - da." We got home not long ago, and Scully is sitting on the floor across from me and Mulder. "Come to Momma, Will." She's so pretty today. She looks so much better than she did in the bathroom not long ago. Her hair is bright and her smile makes me smile too, my hands waving in the air. "Ma - ma - ma." "That's it. Come to Momma." Mulder holds me up, but my legs are shaky. I want to do this on my own, I really do. "You can do it, Buddy," he whispers in my ear. So I do. One, two, three... four! Scully laughs and pulls me to her. She smells so good and I laugh when she tickles my neck with her nose. "Good job, Will!" She kisses me and holds me close, but I squirm. Again! I want to do it again! "Okay, okay. Let's see if you can make it to Dad." Dad. My favorite word. It would make him so happy if I could say it, I know it would. Maybe then he would remember me. Scully turns me around and puts my feet on the floor again. If I could just get back to him, touch him, maybe we could connect. It's Sunday, after all. My favorite day. Good things happen on my favorite day. "Da - da - da." Mulder watches me and his smile goes away. But he's not sad; he's thinking. Concentrating on me. It can happen, I know it can. I think hard, too. Mulder. Dad. Mulder. One step, then two. I sway a bit and I hear Scully gasp behind me. Mulder says without looking at her, "He's okay. C'mon, Buddy." He keeps his eyes on me and smiles again, urging me on. "Ma - ma - muh." I'm trying, I'm trying. Three. That step was good. "Muh - muh." Mulder's smile gets bigger and he leans forward. Four! "Mul - lah!" As he grabs my hands, his eyes go wide. Remember me, Mulder. I think he does - I know he does! Say it, Mulder! "Buddy," he breathes, enfolding me in his arms. I kick my legs, happy beyond belief. He knows me, he knows me! "Scully? Did you hear that? He said my name." *What?* "He said my name, Scully." "Did he? I don't know, Mulder." Scully's voice is close. I lean back to look at Mulder. He's not looking at me; he's smiling at her. "C'mon, Scully. You had to have heard it. 'Mulder.' He said 'Mulder.'" He doesn't know. I look from his face to Scully's. Her look is sweet, but not knowing, too. "Can you say it again, Will? For Momma?" I could, but I don't want to. Instead, I look up at Mulder and touch his nose. "Da." I thought this was going to be my favorite day, but I guess not. Scully kisses me, then Mulder. "Happy 'Da' Day, Mulder. Ready for your present now?" ********** "All came back normal. Just in time for Father's Day, Dad... *again.*" The joy in Scully's voice is nice. Even nicer is Mulder's whoop, maybe happier than her words were. "Yes!" It's dark now in my room, but I'm not asleep. I watch the hanging animals by the light from the hall while I suck my thumb. The talking from their room continues, but lower. Then they don't talk at all. Yeah, yeah. Kissing time again. It doesn't matter. Mulder won't talk to me... *really* talk to me, so I don't care. "Talk?" What? What was that? "What was that." Is there an echo in here? "Echo, echo, echo." Mulder. He can hear me! I turn my mind voice up to full strength. "Mulder, it's me - Buddy!" "What's a Mulder?" The voice is small, but not Mulder. I feel sadness take over. Shit. "Shit." Great. Not only can I not hear Mulder, I'm hearing someone else. Someone that's gonna drive me crazy, I can tell. "Shut up," I say. I'm tired and I want to sleep. "I want sleep too." The voice sounds like Mulder, but not quite. And it makes me angrier; if I can't have Mulder, I don't want this - this - *him.* "Then go to sleep and leave me alone," I answer. "I can't." Though I don't want to, I feel sorry for the guy. I remember what it was like to not know anything, to wonder about the why and how of things. "Why not?" "Because she's moving me around. Make her stop." "She?" "Scully? Is that her word?" Scully. Mom. Suddenly, I begin to see. "Her name. Her name is Scully. My name is Buddy. What's your name?" For a little while, I don't hear anything. Then, "I think it's Peanut. She calls me Peanut. What's a Peanut?" I laugh in my mind; it comes out of my mouth around my thumb as a gurgling coo. I hear the low noise from the other room stop for a minute, so I make like I'm sleeping. I don't want either of them coming in here right now. I'm starting to have fun. After a few seconds, the noise starts up again, so I answer, "You're Peanut. It's your name." "Oh. Buddy. Scully. Peanut." He tries them all out, then says, "But what's a Mulder?" "Mulder is a name, too. It's the best name in the world, Peanut." The name of my Dad. Though he doesn't remember me yet, I still like him best. I'm so proud to brag, "It's one of my favorite words." Peanut doesn't say anything for a second, then tries to copy my confidence with, "I think Scully hates it." "No she doesn't." Little dweeb. I block that out, though, remembering how easy that was to do with Mulder. "Yes she does." "How do you know?" "Because she's saying it now like it's...." He doesn't finish because he doesn't have the word. But *I* know what he means. "Like it's hurting her?" "Yes!" His mind voice becomes low and groaning. "'Mulder, Mulder - please, Mulder.' It's hurting her, I can feel it." Peanut feels me shake with mind laughter and says, "It's not funny!" "Is too," I reply. "Mulder's not hurting her, Peanut. He's doing it to her." "Doing what?" "It." God, this guy is stupid. Even I know what *it* is. I've seen it lots of times; but I've never felt it like Peanut is doing. For a second, I'm really jealous that he's feeling something I've only seen. But then, I've seen way more than he has. Should I tell him where he is? Nah. Think I'll string him along for a little while. This should be fun. Now I'm not so sad that Mulder can't hear me. I have someone else to talk to. Someone who'll hang on *my* words. Maybe this is my favorite day, after all. "Get used to it, kid," I say with a smile. "They do *it* all the time. It's *their* favorite word." "What's a favorite word?" he asks. "Can I have one, too?" This is gonna be *really* fun. "Sure. I'll help you pick one out, okay?" "Okay." "Good. Then let's start with 'chocolate'...." END Many thanks to Musea, for love and support. Especially Blackwood, for giving me the challenge to do this, and Forte, for the quickie beta. I once thought I'd never do a sequel to "My Favorite Word." And though I swore to never, ever do babyfic, I guess this qualifies. Though I think of it as Buddyfic - the little guy is definitely *not* a baby in my mind. Happy Father's Day, especially to my dad. This one's for you, Pop.