Disclaimer: Please do not read if you are offended by cheap jokes and gross national stereotyping.

Notes at the end.

Summary: Love knows no national boundaries or gender differentiation: Everyone loves Scully.

***


Once upon a time Dana Scully had longed for excitement, a distraction from the sometimes banal realities of medical life.

The FBI had provided just such an escape and not long after, a boyfriend who, to the relief of her parents, wasn't married.

Later, there was no boyfriend, but she did have the X-Files and she did have Mulder. Mulder wasn't her lover, but she didn't really mind. It was possible to have a happy and fulfilled life without physical intimacy for many, many years - wasn't it?

Scully gazed at Mulder. She was certain it was.

Mulder looked up suddenly. "Scully? Did you want something?"

It was strange and annoying how easily swayed she could be by the sight of Mulder tapping his pencil against his bottom lip.

"I'm not sure, Mulder," she replied slowly. "I'm not sure."

xXx

Across town at the British Embassy, Fitz came out of his new office and straightened his tie.

"Aimes, I'm popping out for a bit."

His secretary, a somber young man in his mid-twenties, nodded and said stiffly, "Have a pleasant lunch, sir."

"Actually it's more of a family duty. I promised Mother I would look up my cousin here in Washington."

"Then allow me to rephrase: have a pleasant reunion, sir."

Fitz nodded with a friendly air and the disarming smile which worked on everyone, it seemed, except his private secretary. Ah well. A riddle best left for another day.

The chauffeur held his door as Fitz popped into the Bentley and let his thoughts drift.

Fitz hadn't seen his cousin for years - since Oxford, in fact, when he'd been a semi-regular at weekend parties and hunts. Remembered the muttered, "My name is Mulder", as his cousin fired at an escaping fox - and missed. An odd duck.

He looked at his watch while worrying his bottom lip. How long must a duty visit last? Half an hour should do it, with a follow-through offer of drinks at the embassy. Americans seemed to be dazzled by the pomp.

Stepping into the FBI lobby, Fitz gave it a quick once-over. Only his diplomatic training prevented an expression of distaste that wanted to curl his lip. The structure was typical cinder block design with a garish logo embedded in the floor, like crumbling chalk to the subtle cheese of his homeland's antiquity.

No history. Fitz began to wonder whether his new assignment to the D.C. Embassy was a privilege or a punishment.

Fitz was buffeted by the sudden onslaught of a raucous tour group, members chatting and screaming like the hyenas of his last safari. Using his elbows to good advantage, he struggled to escape the crowd before dusting off his Savile Row pinstripe and striding to the security guard.

"I'm here to see Special Agent Fox Mulder. My secretary called earlier and was informed that he'd be in all day. My card."

The guard stared at Fitz, looked at the card, and stared at Fitz again. How tiresome, Fitz realized. The guard must have noticed the family resemblance.

"My name's Mulder-Mulder. Lord Mulder-Mulder. From the UK," he added helpfully.

A sly smile bloomed on the guard's face. "Does Agent Mulder know you're coming?"

"I'm not sure."

"I won't ring you through." The guard called, "Jerry."

A solidly muscled and equally well-armed woman stepped up to take his place at the desk. "Yes, Frank?"

"I'll be escorting Lord Mulder-Mulder to the basement myself."

Jerry blinked. "Lord Mulder-Mulder?"

"That's what the card says. I've just gotta check to see if he's for real."

"If you're referring to my family resemblance to Agent Mulder-" Fitz huffed.

"Calm down, LORD Mulder-Mulder." Frank lowered his tone at Fitz's glare to one more appropriately deferential. "Sir, it's just that I've heard about a lot of, uh, unusual cases from Agent Mulder, but I've never gotten to see one for myself."

"I am not a case. I am a member of the British Embassy, and as such an envoy of Her Majesty's government."

"Okay, okay, don't get your Windsor tie in a knot."

Fitz decided to ignore the guard. Why waste time on an imbecile?

The guard was equally silent as they rode the elevator, then threaded their way through a hallway's maze of photocopy boxes.

"Someone to see you, Agent Mulder," the guard announced. He walked into the room, stepping aside so that Fitz could enter.

"Hullo." Fitz nodded cordially. "Mother sends her regards."

Mulder's eyebrows rose, and he stood behind his desk. "Long time no see."

Frank interrupted the silence. "Agent Mulder, is he part of a case you're working on?"

Mulder's mouth turned up at one corner. "Afraid not, Frank. He's a relative."

"Well I'll be damned." Frank left, muttering.

Mulder crossed his arms, leaned a hip against his desk. "Welcome to the monkey house."

Fitz glanced around the room, and tried not to stare at the strange assortment of clippings, photos, maps, and pencils stuck to the ceiling. Decidedly odd.

"How are you doing, Fox?"

"Call me Mulder. You?"

"Quite well. I don't want it to seem as if I'm bragging, but I've just been assigned to the D.C. Embassy."

"Congratulations." Mulder's voice was less than cordial.

Fitz turned as someone walked past. The profile of a distractingly lovely redhead had come into view.

The woman began, "Mulder, I-" before stopping abruptly.

Fitz straightened and smiled. "Who have we here?"

"Special Agent Scully. My partner."

Agent Scully's mouth fell open and her neck swiveled between them, back and forth, back and forth, like one of those bobble-head dolls. Fitz stepped directly into her line of sight before she injured herself.

He extended his hand both to steady her and introduce himself. "Fox seems to have forgotten the etiquette he learned from our great-aunt Matilda," he said smoothly, "so allow me to introduce myself. I'm Lord Fitzwilliam Mulder-Mulder, cultural attache to the British Embassy and Fox's cousin."

He employed the disarming smile he had learned from his great-uncle Bertrand as he lifted her hand to his lips and planted a light but lingering kiss squarely in the centre.

Scully blinked as she continued to stare at Fitz, her eyebrows almost meeting her hairline. It was hard not to stare. She was, after all, looking at an ash blond almost carbon copy of her partner. The eyes seemed to be a little greener, but there was Mulder's nose, Mulder's height, Mulder's build, and heaven help us, The Lip. She narrowed her eyes and concentrated on it perhaps a little more than she should have. As she came out of her fog Scully reclaimed her hand and a few of her senses. "Lord? Mulder- Mulder?" She turned to her partner. "Mulder?"

"The part of the family from 'across the pond', Scully," Mulder deadpanned. "It seems old Fitzy has come to the colonies to seek his fortune."

"Now, now, Fox, you know the family fortune is secure," Fitz chided as he continued to smile at Scully. "I'm merely doing my service to Queen and Country. One must be ready to accept the challenge when world peace and security are at stake."

Mulder rolled his eyes, "Oh, please, world peace..."

"Absolutely!" Fitz said as he glanced at his cousin, then looked back to Scully with a serious face. "The Prime Minister is calling on only the most qualified foreign servants now, those who know how to conduct business discreetly and honourably."

Mulder leaned toward Fitz and whispered between gritted teeth. "And you've become acquainted with discretion and honour how?"

Scully had missed a few words of the exchange. What she actually heard was, "Family across the pond ... Fitzy ... family fortune secure ... Queen ... world peace ... honour." She was just beginning to wonder how it was that Mulder and his cousin had exactly the same chin when a phone rang. She broke Fitz's gaze abruptly as she reached for her cell.

"Sorry, have to get this," she stammered. A flip of her Nokia revealed it was not her phone that rang.

"Must be me," muttered Mulder, but his Motorola was mute.

"Ah, of course!" said Fitz, as he pulled his Apple-enabled Sony Ericsson with Bluetooth out of his suit jacket. "Mulder-Mulder here," he answered, and was silent for a moment while the other party stated their business.

"Ah, yes, Aimes, very good!" He glanced at Scully. "I hope you've sent the *larger* Bentley this time. I might be bringing a guest. Cheerio!"

Fitz glanced at the phone. "Damned brilliant piece of technology, this. Comes in handy when I'm doing presentations for Congressional delegations from my PowerBook."

Fitz again smiled at the beauteous Agent Scully, who, to his delight, was still smiling at him. It was a dazed and confused smile, admittedly, but nothing to discourage. This duty was turning out to be very pleasant indeed, and Fitz had always preferred pleasure to duty.

Fitz looked at his cousin, who was now morphing into his competition. Judging by the way the two agents stood close together, Fox might be more astute with women than he'd thought. Then Fitz remembered the Oxford years, when poor Fox couldn't tell the well-bred from the lowly, or the good girls from the bitches. Judging by his atrocious tie and rumpled dress shirt, he certainly didn't have a woman to care for him. Dana had called him by his last name! Very odd. And now Fox was staring at him, eyebrows knit, looking for all the world like a lion protecting his territory. Well, well.

The sight of the two men sizing each other up was making Scully quite uncomfortable. She thrust the folders at Mulder to get his attention. "Well, I'm sure you two have a lot of catching up to do. I'll leave these files with you, Mulder, and we'll talk when you get back from your, uh, reunion."

"That's okay, Scully," Mulder said, as he shook the other man's hand. "Listen, Fitz, I've got a deadline here. Tell your mother I said hello and call me sometime."

"All right, Fox, if you must stay. Agent Scully, would you be so kind as to join me for a little refreshment? I know it's early, but I was hoping to find a suitable tearoom in the area. Do you know of one?"

The invitation caught her off guard. "Actually, I do, um, Lord Mulder-Muld-"

The ambassador smiled warmly. "Just Fitz, Agent Scully."

"Well, then please call me Dana. There's a small tearoom near my apartment in Georgetown. It's frequented by university professors from the U.K., so it must be authentic."

"Smashing!" The Smile was now a bona fide 100 watts. Fitz extended his elbow. "Shall we, then?"

That was it. Mulder spun back around to face them. "Ya know, Fitz old boy, I've suddenly got a hankerin' for a scone. Is your *larger* Bentley big enough for three?"

xXx

The trio emerged from the elevator at the main floor just in time to almost run into Assistant Director Skinner.

"Agents," he said under his breath as he hurried down the hall. Mulder took the opportunity to get Scully away from Fitz for a little chat.

"Fitz, Scully and I have to give some information to our Director. Tell your big Bentley to wait out by the curb and we'll be out in a minute." He placed his hand on Scully's back and steered her down the hall to Skinner's office.

"Understood, Fox. Chain of command and all! See you shortly!" Fitz said a little too loudly as he exited the building.

Just a few feet down the hall, Mulder opened a door to a vacant office, flipped the lights on and ushered Scully inside, closing the door quietly. "What the hell was that all about, Mulder? We don't have any 'information' to give Skinner!"

"No, Scully, but I have some information to give you." He glanced at the door. "That 'attache' back there is one of the main causes of my Oxford miseries. His family is nice enough-"

"How is he even related to you? I thought your family was Dutch."

"A group of Mulders left Amsterdam in the late 1600s and settled in England, so that accounts for the offshoot of the family tree. But be assured, Scully, Fitzwilliam Mulder-Mulder fell out of the liar tree and hit every branch on the way down."

Scully rolled her eyes. "Give the man a chance, Mulder. That was more than twenty years ago! People change."

"I saw the way he was looking at you, Scully, and it's the way he looked at every girl we ever met at school."

"He does have quite a disarming smile," she conceded.

"Disarming, disrobing, it's all the same." Mulder placed his hands on his partner's shoulders. "Watch out, Scully, I'm telling you. He comes in like a shining white knight and sweeps them off their feet and right into his bed." He shook his head as if to dislodge a memory and then looked deep into Scully's eyes. "I just don't want you to get hurt."

All Scully could do was think, 'So where's my dark knight, claiming and protecting his damsel?'

Despite herself, Scully was impressed by Lord Mulder- Mulder's chauffeured Bentley. It was sleek, black with red leather upholstery, and there was something strangely appealing about the mock bow he made as he gestured to Scully to get into the car first. Mulder climbed in after her, and judging by the smile of satisfaction, he had decided to prevent Fitz sitting next to her.

"So how is your mother, Fitz?" asked Mulder as they drove to Georgetown.

"Not bad, not bad. Has a bit of trouble getting round the castle these days, but we fitted a Stannah stairlift on the grand staircase last year and now she's up and down like a yoyo." He winked at Scully. "The old girl still drinks like a fish, though. And Teena? Still seeing-"

"She's fine," interrupted Mulder.

Fitz looked sharply at Mulder. "Message received loud and clear, Fox."

"So you were at Oxford with Mulder?" Scully asked curiously. "Mulder never mentioned he had family there."

"Didn't he? I must be another skeleton in the Mulder cupboard. Same year, same college, same subject."

"You're a Psychology graduate too?"

"Well, I don't think I could quite put myself in Fox's league, though it's true to say my third class degree made me the most academically successful member of the Mulder-Mulder family to date."

Mulder snorted.

"We had never met before, so it was quite the surprise when Mother ordered me to go over to my American cousin's room to introduce myself. As unpolished as Fox was in manner and dress, the family resemblance was undeniable."

"I don't think anyone could criticize Mulder in that respect today. But the similarity between you is remarkable," Scully agreed, looking at their shared profile and contrasting colouring. A blond, paler version of Mulder was somewhat eerie.

"When Fox joined us at Micklethwaite for the first shooting weekend of the season, my father, the then Lord Mulder-Mulder, kept warning me to watch out in case Mulder replaced me a la the 'Prisoner of Zenda'. Happy days. Do you remember that weekend, Fox?"

Mulder grimaced. "As if I could forget."

"We had a themed disco in the Great Hall, and Mulder came as Prince Charming from the Adam and the Ants song."

"That doesn't sound so bad, Mulder. I remember the eighties too," said Scully sympathetically, adding with an impish smile, "'Ridicule is nothing to be scared of.'"

"Didn't I introduce you to that charming jezebel, Phoebe Greene, that night?"

"You did, but as I recall she left with a rugby player from Keble."

"Ah, yes," said Fitz. "You were smitten even then, but too slow to make a move."

Not much had changed in that respect, thought Scully, as she told the driver they had reached their destination.

"Speaking of slow, why aren't you married, Fitz?" asked Mulder. "I would have imagined you ought to have fulfilled your family duty and produced wife, heir and spare by now."

"I've been waiting for just the right woman," replied Fitz.

Scully flushed as his gaze rested on her face for a long moment.

"It's true I've played the field, vacillated and let a few good ones get away. But fortunately I've found her at last."

Still blushing from Fitz's obvious admiration, Scully was about to make a comment about Fitz being ridiculous, when he pointed up at an advertising billboard for perfume: "Black Orchid: the fragrance for seduction." The poster featured a striking brunette with impossibly long legs, bursting out of a very short decollete dress.

"That's the woman I'm going to marry."

"Right, Fitz. Good joke," said Mulder, looking amused for the first time since his cousin's arrival.

Scully laughed too, but with a nervous "Ha ha"; she could feel it was the laugh she knew signified embarrassment, but that Melissa had always labelled as sounding fake.

"You don't believe me then?" asked Fitz, apparently affecting bemusement.

"I would, if it were likely that any woman really looked like that," said Mulder, craning his neck to look at the Amazonian figure above them.

"I'm afraid Mulder's right, Fitz," said Scully. "Airbrushing and digital manipulation create the phantasmagorical illusions we see in the media today. You probably wouldn't even notice this created goddess of advertising if she passed you in the street tomorrow."

"If you say so, Dana," smirked Fitz. "Not that you have to be a long-legged Amazon to be a goddess in my book."

"Why don't we go in and have tea?" said Scully. Despite her partner's warning, she thought Lord Mulder-Mulder was incorrigible with his oh-so-obvious flirting, and it was peculiar how his aristocratic manner rendered what would normally be smarmy into charismatic charm. She tried to tell herself her partiality was not at all influenced by his likeness to Mulder.

Ye Olde Tucke Inn was, as Scully had said, an 'authentic' recreation of an old world tearoom, complete with timbered walls and waitresses in lace caps and white aprons over their puff-sleeved black dresses.

"Reminds me of home," Fitz said insincerely, before flashing a brilliant smile at the very pretty blonde waitress who handed him a menu.

"Hi, I'm Brittany, your Ye Olde Tucke Inn waitress for this afternoon."

"Heeelll-ooo," said Mulder-Mulder. "I tell you what, Brittany, I'm rather partial to crumpet."

"Knock it off, Fitz," warned Mulder. "It's hard to believe you're here to represent your country."

"All right, Fox, best behaviour from now on." Fitz himself was becoming aware that his behaviour was verging on the obnoxious. Like reunited siblings, the temptation to revert into the bullying and teasing habits of youth (or "Fox-baiting" as he had called it in their Oxford days) was almost irresistible. Besides which, if he wasn't careful he was going to alienate Agent Scully who, he could not help but notice, was not entirely immune to his charms.

Scully sat back in her chair and considered the man before her - a stranger, yes, but as familiar in look and attitude as her own reflection. It was disquieting. The carbon copy made her aware of the fact that she had occasionally taken the original for granted.

The flustered waitress handed the trio their menus, and Scully blinked back equal measures of astonishment and amusement. Mulder's hand immediately reached for his inside pocket and wirerims; Fitz pulled out a round glass from what she'd mistakenly believed to be a small watch pocket on his vest. A monocle!

Scully bit down on a smile and Mulder smirked.

"What? Oh," Fitz mumbled, lightly tapping the gold rim of the glass. "Bit of a wonky eye. I see you've resorted to spectacles, Fox."

"Call me Mulder."

"Right. Shall we start with drinks? I'll have," touching the menu with an elegant hand, "a pint of Guinness. Dana?"

Scully scanned the choices, eyes lighting at a small notation on the bottom.

"It's a tea room, so I'll have tea - and I see they've listed my favourite. A cup of Pearl Jasmine, please."

"The British and their teas," Fitz nodded approvingly. "Excellent choice, Dana. I'd expect someone of your sensitive nature to appreciate the exquisitely subtle taste of hand-rolled tea leaves."

Scully smiled, pleased at the extravagant compliment despite herself. "My father was a Naval Captain, Fitz. He brought back teas and trinkets from ports of call, and Pearl Jasmine was the best I've ever tasted."

"Ah, a military man. Knew the meaning of duty and-"

"I'll have a beer." Mulder interrupted. "Make mine a Guinness Extra Stout."

Fitz straightened. "Change my order. I'll have a Guinness Extra Stout too."

The faces of both men were bland, but light reflected off their glass lenses like a clashing duel.

Dana rolled her eyes. What next? Arm wrestling? The entire situation was becoming too too ridiculous. In one corner, Lord Mulder-Mulder with his outrageous flirting - and in the other her partner Mulder who, in Scully's well-considered opinion, just didn't flirt enough.

The waitress fled, and Scully searched for an amicable topic. Hmmm. Lord Mulder-Mulder certainly seemed to enjoy talking about himself.

"What was it like growing up in a castle?"

"Historically inspiring, elegantly appointed. There are some who feel Micklethwaite is a bit drafty-"

Mulder snorted. "It's freezing in winter."

"As I was saying, there are some who feel it's a bit drafty, but only those weakened by an overheated central system. If you'd care to visit the estate, Dana, I'll make sure you'd be comfortable and cozy in any season."

Scully ignored a muttered, "I bet," from Mulder, and continued.

"You mentioned shooting seasons and dancing in the Great Hall. It sounds wonderful, but was it a bit - um - isolating to be so different from many of the neighbouring children?"

"Frankly, Dana, we hardly ever saw them. We ran with our own circle of friends, where a coat of arms and family hauntings are par for the course."

Mulder perked up. "Family hauntings?"

"Didn't you meet the late Sir Percy? He's usually sauntering between the upstairs study and the old storage room."

"I'm sure I would have remembered."

Scully said, "Are you being serious, Fitz?"

"Of course, Dana. No castle would be worth its salt without a resident spirit. Sir Percy's quite harmless. Never speaks, and has become wispier over the years since the storage room was turned into a spare loo. Too damp for him, don't y'know."

Scully bit her lip. Was she being teased? The alternative was just as vexing - that the belief in the paranormal was not just Mulder's particular eccentricity but a genetic predisposition.

Brittany suddenly reappeared, a tray balanced on one strong, puff-sleeved arm. "Your drinks."

Silence settled over the group. Scully closed her eyes momentarily while she savoured her tea, and opened them to watch Mulder trace an initial 'M' on the foam of his brew.

"Mulder?"

"Old habit," Mulder smiled. "A good Guinness should hold the initial till the foam's gone."

Fitz raised one eyebrow and deliberately traced an 'MM'.

Scully sighed and ordered a salad. Good food or not, good drink or not, the rest of this afternoon was going to be a long, dark teatime of the soul.

xXx

Well-fed, but with their veneer of civilization slipping, Mulder and Fitz reached simultaneously for the bill.

Mulder withdrew his hand. "Thanks," he muttered. "I suppose the British Embassy will pick up the tab."

Fitz shrugged. He reached into his inside pocket and withdrew a substantial wad of cash, the money clipped together by denomination. A subtle crest was visible, embedded in the sleek silver.

"My treat," declared Fitz brightly. He brushed down his suit and tucked a monogrammed handkerchief firmly back into his pocket.

"Still wearing monogrammed underwear, Fitz?" Mulder asked, deadpan.

Fitz's face reflected an annoyed flash of storm cloud before he pasted on an urbane smile. "Perhaps Dana would care to find out?"

Scully laughed. Fitzwilliam was incorrigible.

Mulder put a proprietary hand on Scully's back as they rose from the table. "We're close to your place, Scully. I could walk you home."

"Nonsense," Fitz boomed. "It's far too early to retire, Dana. Would you like to tour the Embassy? Visit a museum? Attend a concert?"

"Well, I-"

A ringing cell phone interrupted Scully, and all three reached once again into their pockets.

"It's mine." Mulder moved away, and began to speak quietly.

Fitz persisted. "I'd really like to get to know you better, Dana."

"Didn't you mention a fiancee? Or were you joking?"

"Oh, my fiancee is real enough. I would like to introduce Lady Jane to you at the next Embassy party. But I'm not married yet. While there's freedom, a man can still hope. So what do you say?"

"Perhaps I'm not quite as open-minded as you are, Lord Mulder-Mulder."

"Dana," Fitz pouted, "Don't give up on me. Here's my card." He pressed it into her hand. "Remember, I'm available - anytime."

Mulder's eye's narrowed as he stepped between them, and turned to Scully. "It's a case."

Fitz's face brightened. "The Bentley is outside. I'd be very pleased to escort you home, Dana."

Scully's choice was really no choice at all, she realized. "Thank you for tea, Fitz, and it was very nice meeting you. But we're both on a case now."

Mulder straightened and nodded, a trace of smugness on his face, if you knew how to look. "See you, Fitz."

It was Mulder-Mulder's turn to scowl as they hailed a waiting taxi and left Fitz at the curb.

Scully glanced affectionately at Mulder, who began to speak oh-so-casually. "Holding hands with my cousin, Scully? I might have to kill him."

"Not necessary; I shot him down myself." She held up his business card. "Although, if I know your family's persistence, we haven't seen the last of Fitz."

"I don't want to say I told you so, but Fitz is an ass, Scully."

Scully's mock-glare turned Mulder's smug look into a wry grin.

"Okay, now you know the truth, Scully. I'm the black sheep of the family."

"Mulder, if there are any more relatives like Fitz out there, I'd say you're part of an entire flock of black sheep."

"Baaa."