Le Sketch De Rat

We open to: The interior of the warm, welcoming sight of Scully's bedroom, well-furnished and tastefully decorated, where the carpet matches the bedspread *and* sheets, and where it doesn't ever seem like a large man named Bruce has been fluffing the pillows before the scene begins.

Close up on: SCULLY, holding her miracle kid in what looks like a freaking silk blanket, giving MULDER that grinning/grimacing/sniffling look she gives him lately, then handing the kid to him, and Mulder, who still has that confused look he's had since he woke from the dead. Like someone needs to sit him down and explain what the hell's been going on. Explain it a few times, starting with what ever happened to the clones, the bees, and various other plot holes.

Anyway, we hear them speaking:

SCULLY, (screwing her face up into a weepy, emotional mess): From the moment I became pregnant, I feared the truth, about how, and why, and I know you feared it too.

MULDER: I think what we feared were the possibilities. The truth we both know.

S: Which is what?

Herein lies the scene where our two heroes mash lips ever so uncomfortably, putting on brave fronts when they know deep down they should have kissed back during Memento Mori, when it really counted.

M, (wiping his lips): What?

S: You just said something about the truth, and what we know. Or what *you* know, because *I* don't know whatever truth we're supposed to know. Not at this point anyway, and it's been eight seasons.

M, (motioning with his head): Y'know, the truth about the kid here.

S, (confused): What about him?

M: Ol' William William here. The wonderous, joyous, little package of joy named after *both* our fathers. The fruit of my loins, so to speak.

S: Oh, Mulder, I don't know what to say...

M: Say thanks, little lady, (tweaks her nose) for my incredible selfless act, one that has brought you what you've always wanted, and brought me a relaxing afternoon with a cup and a "Hustler."

S: Mulder...

M: Tut, tut, my sweet. Say no more. I am your knight in shining armor; I have come to your aid, I am your hero and what not...

S, (cutting him off): You're not the one I chose.

M, (sputtering): Say that again?

S: I said you're not the one I chose. You took too long to make up your mind. How long do you really think ova last?

M, (pondering, finger to chin): Y'know, I would always cross my fingers that you wouldn't come across the glass vial labeled with "DANA SCULLY" in big red letters sitting on the little rack I had behind the orange juice. Those little suckers lasted longer than Oscar Meyer bolonga.

S: And I'm glad you finally admitted something so huge and devastating to me in a short 2-minute scene, in a flashback, in an elevator, in the middle of the season! Keeping the truth from me about the fact you had my ova for a couple of years is always better summed up that way. Quick and to the point. It was much easier than, say, the way I should have normally acted, which was to throttle you and rip out your spleen. Then I would have had a good cry at how my partner, the person I trusted most in the world, kept this from me. The cry would come after the spleen-ripping of course.

M, (thoughtfully): Yeah, come to think of it, I guess you *were* always talking about being barren and unable to have children, blah blah blah...booooring. It got old, y'know? It was much better to simply sum up in a few sentences something I've been keeping from you for years.

S: It sure moved the season along, didn't it? Kept all those really emotional moments that I'm sure everyone expected out of there. Made 'em wait until the end.

M: Being dead, and then sort of dead, and then partially dead, and then not dead, will do that to you. So, anyway, what was this about not using the fruit of my loins? (Mulder looks down at William William) I always thought the Mulder stock passed genetic muster.

S: I found someone else because you took too damn long.

M: I had some heavy thinking to do, Scullster. You can't just wring out your spermies without at least mulling it over.

S: Yeah, well, someone came to me first.

M: I thought *I* was coming for you.

S, (rolling eyes): Came *to* me. He offered to donate right away, no deep thought, no emotional or moral objections. He's a quick thinker like that, fast to make decisions. I love that in a man. Or in a cup of sperm as the case may be.

M: Really. Who is this slab of reproductive material?

ALEX KRYCEK walks in from the bathroom, wearing Scully's blue-and-gold U.S. Navy "Loose lips like dicks" bathrobe. He looks ruddy-cheeked, healthy, and quite alive. He is also grinning, which you really don't get to see Krycek do very much, but when he does it's a really nice grin. Alex has lovely teeth, and I doubt many people know this except for me and perhaps Marita Covarrubias' tongue. In fact, because of the state of healthcare in America today, shadowy, independent enterprises such as The Consortium have a tough time paying for coverage for their employees. But thanks to numerous virus-laden corn crops throughout the world, The Consortium offers a great dental plan. But I digress.

M, (pouting, looking at Scully): I got you that robe...

K, (tucking discreetly): Not long enough though.

M, (realizing after a moment exactly who it is that is standing there): Krycek! Alex Krycek--who has done various mean things to me that I rehash every time you come into a scene--what are you doing here? And I thought you were dead!

K, (pointedly): I thought *you* were dead.

M: Well, I was, kinda. But really, you're supposed to be dead!

K, (winking): Not in this universe, baby!

M, (pondering once again, rubbing his chin): Hmm, I'll accept that. I've completely accepted much less plausible things in my life. Okay, so what are you doing here?

K, (sleepily running a hand through his adorable bed-hair): I was just about to make waffles.

M: Ooh, really? With fruit topping? I want whipped cream!

Time passes in which Krycek waffle-irons up a damn good breakfast. He even squeezes his own orange juice with an attachment screwed onto his prosthesis. It's quite a thing to watch. Y'see, now *that* is a man with talent. Anyway, we now return to the scene previous, before Mulder had a hankering for waffles.

M, (licking a drop of syrup from one of his fingers): As I was saying, evil, detestable, nefarious Krycek, what are you doing here?

K: Well, I was in the neighborhood, and I heard a voiceover Scully was preparing for a future episode...

M: Her voiceover?

K: That's how I always find out about you two. You're constantly talking while you type at computers, or write injournals...it's a common device in soap operas.

M, (slowly moving and walking downstage, turning his back to Krycek to face Camera 2, then melodramatically whipping back around with a crescendo of music): Get to the point, dastardly, leather-clad, father-killing evil-doer!

K, (sighing): *Must* we bring that up *every* time I see you? I mean, jeez already. (sighing again) Right. So I was innocently lurking about in Scully's bushes when I heard her bemoaning the fact that she can't have children *again*. It seems she talks about it every two seconds, doesn't it?

M, (rolling eyes): Tell me about it.

Scully, (annoyed): Hello, I'm sitting right here...

K: Anyhow, I for one got sick of this drawn-out plot device, and decided to take the matter into my own, er, hands. Hand.

M: What matter?

K: The problem with Scully. Y'know, (gesturing his head at her), with her thing.

M, (looking at her): You have problems with your thing?

S: Mulder...

M: Really, if you need to talk about it...

S: I have been! For the past however many years!

M: Oh sure, like you expect me to keep continuity around here.

Krycek: Continuity? What was I saying?

M: You were going to explain to me why you're wearing the bathrobe I bought Scully for Groundhog Day last year.

K: Groundhog Day?

M: We don't ever remember or celebrate actual holidays or birthdays. I mean, (looking at at Scully) what did you buy me that year we were trapped in that haunted house with the famous gay comedienne and the old cranky guy from Mary Tyler Moore?

Scully, (making googly noises at William William): Y'know, I can't recall...

M: Anyway, (pointing back to Krycek) explain yourself.

Krycek: About what?

M: About why you're wearing that bathrobe I bought for Scully that is *obviously* too short on you!!

K, (blushing and tucking again): Um...

M: Well?

K, (shrugging): We were boinking.

Scully shrugs too.

K: It's better than a Hustler.

M: I can't believe this...

K: It's really quite simple, actually. First I stretch and do a number of limbering exercises. That prepares me for the acrobatics she enjoys in bed. Then I...

M: Hang on a second, here...

K: Stop the presses, he's thinking!

M: It's been a while. I've been dead. Gimme a break.

K: People have said the same of me.

S: I'll vouch for him, Mulder. He's really quite alive. Really. *Quite* alive.

M, (eyeing her): Okay, let me piece this together. Scully asks me about donating sperm. It's a rather touching scene. Then I go off to be dead and now you're saying you really didn't use my sperm at all?

S: They were sluggish. And had big noses.

K: This little plot twist ensures my ongoing survival. It's the perfect plan! They can't ever kill me now! Bwahahahahahahaaaaa! And I don't like "William". (thinking) Um, Fyodor. Nah. Cheslav? Sounds too Star-Trekky. Grigori? Mikhail? I got it! Vyacheslav! We'll call him Slavochka for short.

S: Anything you say, my little pierogie.

M, (stupefied): You had this planned all along! Now you'll never be forgotten! This little manipulation will endear you to the hearts of everyone!

S, (thoughtfully): It wasn't so much manipulation as it was him holding the turkey baster.

K: The manipulation came later, after the wine.

M: Oh my God! Basically, now that it turns out *you* are the father of William William...

K, (interrupting): Vyacheslav.

M: Vyacheslav, whatever, now that you're the father, my whole existence is worthless, isn't it?

S: Pretty much. We did have a few laughs from time to time though.

K: You didn't really need to come back, even. I've got everything under control.

S, (to Mulder): Also, Doggett drives a truck. A big, sexy truck. As soon as I saw that I knew you were a goner.

M: Well, I...but...hmm. Damn.

K: Yep, them's the breaks. I continue to live and thrive, while you lost your job at the FBI and will no doubt become a hermit weaving rope from your own hair.

S: My sentiments exactly, borscht baby.

M, (sighing in defeat from the apparently overwhelming logic, and walking to the door): I guess this is goodbye then.

S: Well, after eight years, I'm up for something new.

K, (twirling the tie of the robe): I can be up for it in about two seconds.

M, (making the Puppy Dog Face as he walks out the door): Can I call you?

K, (patting Scully on the ass): I think we might be busy.

S, (grinning): For another eight years.