Easter Eggs, Glasses, and Gunshells
By Mary Kleinsmith (Buc252@aol.com or 
Buc252@adelphia.net)

Note:  A special Easter gift for all my MT/MR 
friends.  

Category:  MT, hopefully with a high "awww" factor
Rating:  PG
Spoilers:  None
Summary:  The trials and tribulations when Scully and 
Mulder attend the President's annual Easter Egg Hunt
Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully, and any other characters 
you recognize don't belong to me.  The remaining 
characters are, however.  I'm not making any money on 
this.  
Author's Notes:  Thank you to Mindy and Vickie for 
the betas and advice.  I'd intended to finish this in 
time for Easter, but it ended up being a couple days 
late. Sorry!
Feedback:  Yes, please please please?

Easter Eggs, Glasses, and Gunshells
By Mary Kleinsmith (Buc252@aol.com or 
Buc252@adelphia.net)

Green grass, greener than any suburban neighborhood, 
stretched on for what seemed like miles.  Only the 
occasional bush, tree, or lawn ornament kept it from 
being the perfect place for a golf course, Mulder 
thought as he took in his surroundings.

"I hope you realize what I'm missing out on here," he 
said to his partner, who stood beside him in her most 
serious suit, looking like the perfect picture of a 
federal agent.  "My team has a game today!"

"Mulder, unless you've bought a baseball franchise 
and not told me, they're not <your> team."

"You know what I mean," he grumbled.  "I'm missing it 
and it's all your and Skinner's faults."

"What was I supposed to do?  Besides, it's considered 
a great honor to be asked to help run security for 
the President's annual Easter egg hunt.  Usually, 
only the Secret Service gets this duty, but with the 
flu going through the ranks, and the president out of 
town, they were shorthanded."

"I never thought I'd consider somebody with the flu 
'lucky'," he responded glumly.  

"Give me a break, Mulder."  She looked up at the 
clear blue sky.  "It's a gorgeous spring day."

"To bad we won't be going anywhere for awhile," 
Mulder mumbled, studying the substitute agents around 
him.  If they were any greener, they'd blend in with 
the grass.

"This is one place where even you can't manage to get 
hurt.  Unless, of course, you twist an ankle stepping 
on a plastic egg."  She laughed, her eyes sparkling.

"Very funny, Scully," he answered, taking a first 
step from the sidewalk onto the vibrant lawn of the 
Pennsylvania residence.  

Before he could complain any further, the head of the 
detail - Mulder thought he recognized him from the 
ATF - walked in front of the assembled agents.  His 
charges snapped to attention like marine cadets; 
black was definitely the common theme in their 
attire.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen," the man began.  
"I am Special Agent Connors of the ATF.   As you 
know, families from all over the country, chosen at 
random, will be here today for the President's annual 
Easter egg hunt.  Your duty will be to keep an eye 
out, cover the entire premises, and protect every one 
of those guests.  As you know, the President won't be 
attending today, as he is pressed by other matters 
out of town, so there should be little threat, but we 
still need to be alert.  Anybody who is in any way 
suspicious should be apprehended for questioning in 
the most discreet manner possible so as not to alarm 
or concern any of those present.  Use of your 
firearms is an absolute last resort.  I repeat, use 
of your weapons is the last resort."

Trading a glance with his partner, Mulder's eyes were 
quickly drawn back to front and center, a textbook 
agent.  

"Are there any questions?" the man finally asked.  

The group was silent, their instructions clear.

"Everybody make sure you pick up your two-way; we'll 
be on channel four.  Use it to keep in touch with 
each other.  We want to know of anything that looks 
even the least bit suspicious.  Go to it," Connors 
ordered, and the agents dispersed.

They donned and tested the radios. The earpieces were 
almost invisible once in place, proving that this 
part of the government, at least, had the best in 
modern equipment.  No wires either. Other than 
preparation, there wasn't much to do except check out 
the premises to make sure nothing or no one with 
nefarious intentions was lying in wait. 

Moving to the outermost edges of the lawn, Scully and 
Mulder walked the perimeter in silence for quite some 
time.

"So what are your plans for Sunday, Scully?  Your Mom 
going to have a ham in the oven?" he finally asked.

"Actually, she's coming over to my place, since it's 
just the two of us this year.  Want to join us?"

"You're cooking?" he smiled, trying to keep it from 
growing into a laugh.

"Yes, I'm cooking," she said, slapping him on the 
arm.  "Don't you dare insult my culinary talents.  
Mom was my instructor, you know."

"Scully, not every talent is inherited," he laughed 
this time.  

"You're going to lose your invitation, Mulder," she 
threatened.

"And this is a bad thing how?" he ribbed her good-
naturedly.

"Okay, now it's no longer a choice.  Unless you've 
got a damn good excuse, you <will> be at my house by 
one o'clock for Easter dinner."

"I will, will I?"

"Yes, if you value your life, you will.  Remember, I 
have a gun."

He smiled.  They loved to tease, but when it came 
down to it, he'd much rather spend the holiday with 
his two favorite women.  It wasn't "his" holiday - 
not that any of them really were, other than 
Halloween - but that didn't mean that he wanted to 
spend it alone.

"What can I bring?"

"I'll get back to you."

"Scully, Easter is tomorrow!  If I have to go to the 
store . . ."

"Don't worry.  I'll know before we leave here today."

The sound of humming drew their attention to the 
White House, where the droves of guests who'd been 
invited there that day gathered.  

"Guess we'd better split up and head a little closer, 
huh," he suggested as they moved in that direction.  

"Y'know what just occurred to me?" Scully said as 
they drew near enough to identify the Secretary of 
the Interior among all the parents and children.

"What?"

"I didn't see a single egg while we were doing our 
check."

"And you call yourself an investigator?" he laughed 
as she swatted him again.

Two dozen kids were given final instructions and went 
on their way, baskets in hand.  The parents and other 
adults, apparently secure in the knowledge that their 
children were well guarded, milled around several 
large buffet tables that held finger foods and 
beverages.

Mulder truly had no idea how long the search would 
last - he'd never even known the event existed until 
they'd been given the assignment - but as long as he 
saw kids scurrying around the lawn, dodging between 
trees and bushes, he continued to walk the grounds.  

Eventually, he made his way to the rear-most edge of 
the lawn where, he realized, a small, wooded area 
would have been the ideal place for somebody to hide.  
He knew he'd seen some of the other agents checking 
it out before the families had arrived, but no one 
had examined the area lately.

He approached cautiously, something at the back of 
his neck signaling that all was not right.  He wished 
he could draw his weapon as protection, but knew it 
was absolutely taboo in this environment.  Instead, 
all he could do was keep his eyes and ears alert, his 
senses attuned.

Just when he was ready to write off his suspicion as 
paranoia, there was a rustling of the brush, and he 
jumped back.  Still, nothing emerged, so he drew 
close again, and this time, instead of rustling 
noises, there was sniffling.  Very child-like 
sniffling.

Circling around the nearest bush, he found a tiny boy 
of perhaps five or six years of age.  He sat with his 
knees pulled up to his chest, his forehead resting on 
them as his shoulders shook with the affect of his 
sobs.  His colorful basket lay abandoned in the dirt 
beside him.

"Hey, buddy," he approached carefully, not wanting to 
scare the child.  "What's wrong?"

Kneeling down beside him, Mulder brushed his fingers 
gently along the boy's back.

Turning into Mulder's chest, the little boy wrapped 
his skinny arms around Mulder's neck, sobbing into 
his starched white shirt and colorful tie.  There was 
little else the agent could do until he calmed.

Finally, the weeping died down to sniffles once 
again, allowing Mulder to settle the boy into his 
lap.  

"What's your name?"

"Brian Fox," the tousle-haired boy said through 
watery hazel eyes.  

"I'm Mulder," he introduced himself.  "What's wrong, 
Brian?"

"I can't find any eggs!" Brian entreated, his lip 
quivering.  "It's almost over."

Looking around in the wooded thicket, a half dozen 
bright colors greeted him, peeking around corners.  

"They're out there, and very nearby," he told Brian, 
who rubbed his eyes with the backs of his hands.  
"You just have to look for them."

"I can't see any," Brian answered, scanning the area 
around him.  

Mulder was confused - how could he not see them?

"Mrs. Dickerson says I need glasses, but Mama says we 
don't have any money."

The boy's plight was heart-rending, tugging at 
Mulder's chest.

"Brian, see that little tree over there?" he tested.  
"How many leaves does it have?"

Tiny eyes squinted, trying to bring it into focus.  
When he didn't answer, Mulder asked him again.

"Brian, can you see that tree?"

"There are trees taller than you, but I don't see no 
little ones."  The lip began to quiver again  "It's 
like when Mrs. Dickerson writes on the blackboard."

A tear escaped and trickled down a little cheek, and 
Mulder reached a thumb to wipe it away.  

"Well, how about if, just for now, I be your eyes for 
you?"

Brian's face went from sorrow to joy in an instant, 
his smile broad.  "You'll help me find some eggs?"

"I think it would only be fair, don't you?"  

Soft brown hair fell over the small forehead as he 
nodded his head in agreement.

"Grab your basket," Mulder instructed as he rose, 
brushing the dirt and grass from his suit.

He soon realized that, as long as he took the boy to 
within a foot of an egg, he had no problem seeing it 
and quickly depositing it among his rapidly growing 
collection.  

As they walked, Mulder found he was enjoying the 
experience more than he'd ever expected possible.  
Brian was an intelligent, affectionate child who 
spoke highly of his mother and his two siblings, an 
older and a younger sister.  

"Mommy's gonna be so happy!" Brian announced after 
they'd together counted his eggs.  "I'm gonna win!"

"I hope so, Brian," Mulder said with a smile he 
couldn't withhold.  "What do you win if you get the 
most eggs?"

"Candy!" Large, round eyes grew even bigger before 
him.  "There's a huuuuuuge bunny made out of 
chocolate, and lots of jelly beans and other stuff in 
the basket.  Even some toys!"

"Wow, what are you going to do with all that?"

"Take it alllll home," he said.  "Mommy gets the 
first piece, and then my sisters and me will eat the 
rest."

"Not the toys, though," Mulder stated, making Brian 
giggle.  

"Those are to <play> with.  Not to eat!"

"Oh, how silly of me.  So why does Mommy get the 
first piece of candy?"

"'Cause she's the mommy!" he said as if it were 
obvious.  "She works real hard, and nobody gives her 
candy at work."  He looked thoughtful for a moment, 
his small eyebrows drawing together.  "Jamie might be 
too little, but I'll ask before I give her any."

"Jamie is your little sister?  How old is she?"  As 
they strolled, he kept his eyes alert, finding it 
easy to do both and still help the little boy.

"Yeah, she's two, and she gets into <everything>!"  
He shook his head in an action belying his age.  
"Sometimes we just don't know what to do with her."

Mulder couldn't help but laugh at the words, oh-so-
maturely delivered from the mouth of such a young 
child.  "Well, if she's two, she probably can have 
some, just not too much at once."  He hoped his 
judgment was accurate - kids were definitely not his 
area of expertise.

Looking around, Brian asked, "Are there any more in 
here?"  

They hadn't left the wooded area, and given how many 
eggs they'd collected, he felt secure that they'd 
reaped all the benefits there.  "I think you're 
right, Brian," he said, also looking around.  "I 
don't see any more.  Why don't you sit and rest for a 
minute while I make a quick phone call."  A 
distressed look overcame the boy's face.  "Don't 
worry, I won't be long."

Drawing off to the side, he dialed quickly, taking a 
pad of paper from his jacket pocket.  Waiting while 
the phone rang, he finally heard a warm voice.  "Hey, 
Jason, it's Mulder.  I need a favor."

Two minutes later, he rejoined Brian, who was happily 
recounting his eggs where he had them lined up on the 
ground.

"Hey, buddy.  Ya still got 'em all?"

"Yeah!"

Mulder knelt down beside the boy.  "I need you to do 
something for me, okay?"

"You want some candy, too?" Brian asked happily, 
causing Mulder to chuckle.

"No, no candy.  I'm going to put this piece of paper 
into your basket."  Mulder slid the note in under the 
eggs as Brian replaced them.  "When you finish here, 
tell your Mom that she needs to take you to that 
address."

"What's there?" Brian asked curiously.

"There's a man named Jason, who is a friend of mine.  
He's going to give you some glasses to help you see 
better."

The eyes filled with tears.  "But Mama said we can't 
'ford any."

"You won't need any money - it's all arranged.  It 
won't cost her anything."

"Really?" he asked excitedly.  "Thank you!"  
Suddenly, the basket was forgotten as Mulder was 
ensnared in a vigorous hug.

"You're welcome, Brian.  Now we'd better hurry up and 
get back."

"Gun!" came in a sudden shout over his earpiece, and 
Mulder threw himself to the ground, pulling Brian 
after him.  Outside of the radio, he heard shrieks 
and screams, some young and some older.  

"Stay here, Brian.  Don't move until I call for you, 
okay?"

Frightened, but not as much as the agent, the little 
boy nodded his head.

"Hide behind this tree, and don't let anybody see 
you, promise?"

"I promise."

Convinced of the boy's safety for the moment, Mulder 
moved to the edge of the woods, studying the rear of 
the house where the buffet had been assembled.  Three 
men waving guns were threatening the families of the 
egg hunters, including most of the children, who had 
finished their search, and several of the other 
agents who'd been working security.  One gunman was 
dressed in the clothes of a groundskeeper, one 
appeared to be a member of the press corps, and one, 
embarrassingly enough, was one of the substitute 
agents that neither he nor Scully had recognized.  
The children and parents clustered together, clinging 
to each other in fear as the  gunmen yelled.  They 
seemed to be demanding the presence of the president 
himself, ignorant to the fact that the man was half a 
continent away.

Mulder counted the agents, who were being covered by 
one gunmen exclusively, just to be sure that they 
didn't take any heroic measures in rescuing the 
families.  Counting them, he saw the small redhead 
and realized that he was the only one unaccounted 
for.  Hopefully, they didn't realize that he hadn't 
come back with the rest.

He dare not use the radio, knowing that one of their 
own, equally equipped, would overhear, but he needed 
to get into contact with Scully.  For now, though, 
he'd have to form his own plan of attack.  He had to 
save her, but his priority had to be the citizens.  
He prayed he wouldn't have to make a choice between 
them.

Studying the grounds, there was cover around nearly 
all of the lawn's perimeter.  Could he make it 
circling around to take them to surprise from behind?  
At the moment, it was the only plan that occurred to 
him.  Moving stealthily, he moved from cover to 
cover, checking his gun along the way.  He wished 
he'd thought to come prepared with a spare clip, but 
who really expected this, at a nice, quiet, family 
event?  Not that doing a whole lot of shooting was a 
tactic he'd seriously consider at the moment; every 
shot fired would endanger the innocents being held 
hostage.  Hopefully, they could subdue the suspects 
with a minimum of fuss once they realized they were 
out-manned and out-gunned.

Creeping around the perimeter, he repeated 
instructions in his mind, hoping somehow that Scully 
would tune in and know what he was planning.  Maybe 
he was getting through - she seemed to be talking to 
the gunmen, perhaps trying to convince them to 
surrender.  But to them, they had the upper hand, and 
there was nobody to stand against them.

Finally, he made his way to the bush nearest the 
captives, close enough to clearly hear the 
conversation between the gunmen and the fearful sobs 
of the tiny children.  He hated knowing that those 
kids were so terrified at an event that was supposed 
to be fun.  Scully was at the very rear of the 
assembled agents, and, suddenly, her eyes locked on 
his through the leaves, communicating volumes with 
just that gaze.  

"Diversion," he whispered, hoping that she could read 
his lips and get his meaning.  If she could divert 
their attention to herself, he could come up from 
behind and disarm their guard and, hopefully, create 
enough of a commotion that the remaining agents could 
take out the other two gunmen.

Nodding her head slightly, indicating that she 
understood, she whispered instructions to the agents 
around her.  They imitated her barely-there nod, and 
he felt comfortable going in, knowing that he had 
some kind of backup.

Scully's eyes grew with astonishment a fraction of a 
second before a familiar voice hit his ears.

"Mulder!"

Brian was running across the lawn, calling out to 
him, but running toward where the guests and gunmen 
were gathered.  Panicked, the three captor's guns 
came to bear on the little boy as Mulder broke into a 
run towards him.

A sharp pain ripped through his back just as he 
pulled the boy to the ground, protectively covering 
Brian with his larger body.  In the background, he 
heard more gunfire and screams, but he realized he no 
longer had the capacity to roll over and see what was 
happening.  The world grew dark as he heard Brian's 
voice in his ear.

"Mulder, are you okay?"

Haziness surrounded him for an uncertain amount of 
time before he heard Scully's voice in his ear, only 
this time, not through the radio earpiece.

"Stay still, Mulder.  You're going to be all right."  
She prayed he would obey her instructions as she took 
in his back.  Two entrance wounds bled freely, 
seeping through his jacket, one in the upper left 
shoulder near the scapula and one near the bottom rib 
on his right side.

"Brian . . ."  Mulder mumbled as the small boy 
climbed out from under her partner's body.  

"He's all right," she said, looking into the tear-
filled eyes of the boy.  "Pick up your basket and go 
find your Mom, okay?"

As the child disappeared, she found another person at 
her side, a member of the White House staff, who 
carried a large first-aid kit.

"Thank you," she said, opening the case and 
withdrawing gauze and scissors.  "Paramedics?"

"They're on their way," the man assured her.  "I'm 
sure the response will be fast when they hear where 
the call is," he smiled comfortingly.

"Let's hope it's fast enough," she responded, 
beginning to cut at the bottom of Mulder's suit 
jacket.  "He's losing a lot of blood."

"He can still hear you," Mulder mumbled, making her 
smile as only he could.  The man's fortitude was 
impressive.

"Good, keep it that way," she answered as she went to 
work on his shirt, slicing it up the middle to expose 
his back.

"How's it look?"

"Can't you tell?" she asked, surprised that he 
couldn't.

"Whole back's on fire.  Can't quite pin down . . ."

"You took two bullets.  One is in the upper left 
quadrant, one in the middle lower right."

"Damn," he managed before adding, "another ruined 
suit."

Taking a gauze pad, she folded it in half and placed 
it over the puckered wound on his ribcage, grabbing 
the hand of her volunteer assistant.  "Keep pressure 
on this wound while I check the other."  

Once the second pad was in place, she reached around 
to his front, feeling for moisture.  "No exit 
wounds," she observed aloud. "The bullets are still 
inside him.  Where's that ambulance?"

"Is everybody else okay?" Mulder asked in that same 
weak voice.  

"Yes, everybody's fine, Mulder.  Just relax.  When 
they turned on you, the other agents were able to 
subdue all three of them."

"The kids?"

"Scared, but fine.  Same with the parents."

"And the Secretary of the Interior and the staff?"

"They were never in any danger, safe inside the 
building.  You were the only one hurt."

"Lucky me," came his response.  "Tired."

"That's the blood loss.  We'll have you at the 
hospital soon," she added, spying the paramedics 
carrying a gurney across the lawn.

"Think I'll sleep," he murmured as he finally gave in 
to the pain and exhaustion, losing consciousness to 
the sound of his partner's comforting voice.

**

Seeing the wounds in the field wasn't nearly as bad 
as seeing them in the ER when she barged her way into 
the cubicle where Mulder was being treated.  
Unconscious, lying on his stomach, stripped with only 
a sheet covering him from his buttocks down, the pale 
skin was a stark contrast to the entry wounds.  Being 
by his side wouldn't last long -- just long enough 
for the doctors to be sure he was stabilized before 
moving him to the OR.  

"Blood pressure?" a doctor called to the nurse 
handling the sphygmomanometer.

"60 over 40," she reported, allowing the remaining 
air to bleed out of the bulb.  

"Type and cross match, and set him up with a unit of 
blood," the doctor ordered.

"He's been a patient here before," Scully stated.  
"His blood type is B negative, and should be on 
file."

"Have the records checked stat."  This sent another 
nurse scurrying out.  "Not that I don't believe you, 
Doctor Scully."

"Understood," she said.  The physician seemed capable 
and efficient, and she had no intention of impeding 
him by demanding he do anything other than what he 
was doing.  Instead, drawing closer, she took 
Mulder's flaccid hand in her own, his palm calling to 
her to comfort him even if he would not consciously 
know it.  An oxygen mask covered is face, and she 
watched through the plastic for any movement, but he 
was still.

"Call x-ray and get a portable in here; I want a film 
to see exactly where those bullets are and what 
damage they did going in.  When we go after them, I 
want to know where to dig."

Scully cringed at the word, and the idea of somebody 
"digging" into Mulder's flesh like a prospector 
searching for gold.  Removing bullets was a 
meticulous yet messy business, and she knew that 
there was little to be done about it.

"Sc . . ." 

For all the noise in the tiny room, Scully heard the 
faint whisper with alarming clarity.

"Mulder!  Mulder, I'm here."

"Help me. . ."

"We're trying, Mulder."

"Hurts . . ."

"We'll get you some painkillers, just hang in there," 
she comforted, rubbing his hand that, despite his 
weakness, squeezed hers back.

"Demerol?" the doctor questioned, to which she nodded 
her agreement and he gave the order.  

"You'll feel better in no time," she told him, 
reaching to touch his face comfortingly.  She could 
only imagine the pain he had to be in, lying there 
with no painkillers because they'd presumed he'd stay 
unconscious.  Two pieces of metal invaded his body, 
but he still hung on.

"Surgery?"

"They'll be taking you up as soon as they get an x-
ray and hook you up to some blood.  You're running on 
half a tank," she smiled.  

"Just in case . . ."

"Just in case what, Mulder?"

"Just in case . . . I moved lock box . . . bottom of 
. . . closet . . . "

"What box . . ."

"Important papers," he sighed, seeming to deflate.  
"Life insurance . . . my will . . ."

"You'll show me where they are when you're better," 
Scully said, unsure whether she was trying to more 
convince herself or him.  "We won't need them today."

"Dr. Scully, we need you to clear out while they take 
the X-ray."  She'd practically forgotten that the 
medical man was listening in until he interrupted.

"I'll be right outside, Mulder, and then they'll 
probably be taking you up to the OR."

"Okay," he whispered.  "Favor?"

"Anything."

"Check on Brian . . . he shouldn't be traumatized."

"I'll make sure he's okay, don't worry about that."  
She felt her own eyes begin to tear.  "I'll see you 
later."  A kiss of benediction on the forehead was 
her only goodbye before she left the room.

**

"It's been twelve hours - he should have come to by 
now."

"It always takes him a bit longer than you'd expect," 
Scully assured the surgeon.  "I'm sure it's noted in 
his records - if you can muddle through it all to 
find it."

"Agent Mulder's file makes fascinating reading, 
that's for sure," he responded, but she almost missed 
it due to the groaning coming from the bed.

"Mulder!"

Dull hazel eyes opened blearily.  "How much sense 
does it make to lay a patient on the place where he 
was injured?" he asked, attempting humor, but the 
pain in his eyes belied the truth of what he said.  

"We'll get you some painkillers," the doctor said 
with a smile.  "Then, I want to have a look at your 
wounds."

"Can I sit up?" he asked, looking around for the bed 
control.

"Yeah, I guess it would be okay," the doctors agreed 
with a smile.  Scully had warned him that Mulder 
would be ready to get up and go before they were 
ready to let him do so.  "But you have to promise to 
let us know if you feel weak and need to lie down 
again."

"Scout's honor," Mulder said, raising his right hand 
in the salute.  At least the sling only impeded is 
left arm.  "If that goes well, can I have some food? 
I'm starving."

"You're hungry?  That's a good sign, Agent Mulder," 
the doctor said as he left the room.  "I'll order you 
up some soup and Jell-O for starters."  

Mulder breathed a great sigh of relief after the 
nurse came and went, having dispensed something 
wonderful into his IV.  

"Better?"  Scully asked him.

"Much, thank you."  

Just then, a knock sounded and a nurse stuck her head 
in the door.  "Feel up to a visitor?"

Scully looked at him questioningly, while he looked 
at her as if he expected her to answer for him.  When 
she didn't, he answered in the affirmative.  

A woman appeared through the doorway, her clothes old 
and worn, but a joyful look on her face.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but we have to leave in the 
morning, and Brian really wanted to see that you were 
all right before we did."  Mulder's expression was 
slightly confused, probably due to the drugs, she 
guessed, so she clarified.  "I'm Dorothy Fox, Brian's 
mother.  He'd like to say hi."

Mulder nodded, and she opened the door to allow in a 
small ball of energy.

"Mulder!"

"Hey, buddy!  C'mon up," he patted the bed beside 
him.

"Are you sure . . ." his mother began.

"Just be careful not to hurt Mulder, Brian," Scully 
said, helping the little boy onto the bed.  "You 
can't be too rough with him."

Brian nodded.  "I won't hurt him, I promise."  The 
precocious boy looked at Mulder with concern.  

"What you saw yesterday was pretty scary, wasn't it?" 
Mulder asked him in his best psychologist's tone, 
tinged with childhood humor and an unavoidable 
weakness.

"It sure was!  My mommy was okay, though.  She didn't 
get shot."

"Brian," Dorothy said with a smile.  "Why don't you 
show Mr. Mulder your surprise so he can get back to 
resting."

She handed the boy a small backpack, which he dug 
through eagerly.  His smile grew as he produced a 
six-inch chocolate rabbit, setting it on Mulder's 
tray table.  

"Is that for me?"

Brian nodded.  "It's part of the candy I won - I got 
the most eggs of everybody!  Since you helped me, you 
should have some candy, too."

"Well, thank you, Brian.  That's very generous of 
you."

"He had a good role model where generosity is 
concerned," Dorothy said, motioning for the boy to 
continue.

The next thing out of the bag was a small black case.  
"Look what I got this morning!"  Sliding the metal 
object from the case, Brian put on a pair of 
sparkling gold-toned glasses.

"Very cool!" Mulder encouraged while Scully looked on 
in confusion.  

"Your partner is a wonderful man, Agent Scully," Mrs. 
Fox said quietly while she watched her son talk with 
the bedridden patient.  

"He's always been good with kids," Scully responded, 
erroneously thinking that the mother was talking 
about the camaraderie the two seemed to have.

"I meant his generosity.  Didn't he tell you?"

"Mulder does a lot of things he doesn't tell me 
about."

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense.  He probably 
wouldn't want anybody to know, but he arranged for my 
son to get those glasses.  Since my husband's death, 
we just haven't had any money, and the place I work 
doesn't provide health insurance, let alone vision 
coverage.  Brian's teacher told me that he needed 
them, but there wasn't anything I could do except 
save a dollar or two each week."

"Mulder paid for the glasses?"

"And the doctor who prescribed them, yes.  There was 
a note in with his eggs at the hunt yesterday telling 
me where to go and when; we had to do it right away 
because we're headed back to South Dakota this 
afternoon."  Her eyes sparkled as she beheld her son.  
"He's our hero, Agent Scully."

Scully's respect for her partner grew another notch.  
A boy he didn't know, yet he'd given so generously.

"Brian," Dorothy called.  "We'd better be going.  Say 
goodbye to Mr. Mulder and come along."

"Bye, Mulder," Brian said, climbing down and waving 
as he walked away.  At the last minute, he bounded 
back onto the bed to wrap small arms around Mulder's 
neck, planting a sloppy kiss on his cheek.  "Thank 
you!" he whispered before jumping down to scramble 
after his mother.

As the door clicked shut, Scully turned to him with 
shining eyes.  "Wonder what that was all about," 
Mulder stated as he relaxed back into his pillows, 
closing his eyes.

"His mother <told> me what that was all about," she 
smiled at him knowingly.  "Now get some rest, 
please?"

He nodded, too tired to continue the conversation, 
but as he drifted off, soft lips came to rest on his 
cheek.  "You're my hero, too," she whispered in his 
ear before allowing him the quiet to sleep and heal.  
Some people say that there are no heroes anymore, but 
she knew at least one she worked with every day.

The End