Disclaimer: They're not mine, but everything they say and do... I totally own that.

Spoilers: Emily?

A/N: I'm having a sucky birthday. I thought Scully should too. At least for a little while.

I hate my birthday. It's not the getting older that I hate, but the fact that no one remembers. Before I started with the FBI, back when I was close to my family, everyone remembered. Missy and I would always play hooky and go shopping. Mom would make my favorite dinner, and my brothers would call right at midnight and send presents. But this year, Missy is dead, mom is out of town, and neither one of my brother's seem to remember me.

It was one in the afternoon, and no one had called, there were no cards in my mailbox, and it really didn't feel like a birthday at all.

I spent the morning cleaning my apartment. And by cleaning, I mean that I even got toothpicks out to clean all the little crevices on my kitchen appliances. I cleaned out the fridge, which really didn't have much in it to begin with. I washed all of my clothes, ironed, and hung them up. I changed my sheets. I rearranged the furniture, then realized it was in that place for a reason, and I moved it back. I vacuumed the carpet, then thought about hiring someone to steam clean it. I cleaned the bathroom, and I swear I have never been that close to my toilet before. I dusted my bookshelves. I even cleaned out old files on my computer and updated my e-mail address book. I was just about to start polishing my wood furniture when the phone rang. I almost didn't hear it over the music, but I caught it on the third ring.


"Hey Scully, it's me."

"Mulder. Hi."

Not quite a disappointment, but definitely not who I was expecting.

"I know it's kind of short notice, but I was wondering what you were doing tonight."

"Mulder, if this is a case-"

"Not a case. Not on your birthday."

I didn't know quite what to say.

"You're shocked that I remembered, aren't you?"

"A little."

"Well, I don't blame you. So what are your plans? Are you having dinner with your mom?"

"No, she's out of town."

"Are you going to drive down to Atlantic City and play 'til you win?"

That earned him a smile.

"No, I'm not."

"Are you going to go on a shopping spree and finally buy some suits with shorter skirts?"

"No Mulder."

"Are you going to let me take you out to dinner?"


"And maybe a movie after that?"

"I could be persuaded."

"And will you let me take you out for dessert after that? Please?"

"Well... I guess."

"Great. I'll pick you up at 5. Wear something comfortable."

"Why so early?"

"Did you really think I was going to tell you the whole plan for the night? Just trust me."

I sighed. I hate when he says that.

"Okay, I trust you. But anything embarrassing and you're cruising for a bruising."

"I wouldn't expect any less from you. See you in a while."