By Falling In And In - 3/5
SUMMARY: Things go AU after DeadAlive, and Scully must answer the following question: "So what do you want to do? Do you want to live separately? Do you want a place together? A creampuff wedding gown and a Barbie Dream House in Reston?"
RATING: R
SPOILERS: Through DeadAlive
DISCLAIMER: Breaking seal constitutes acceptance of agreement. Proceed at your own risk. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. For recreational purposes only. Driver does not carry cash. And, as always, thank you for choosing Aloysia Airlines for your direct flight from 1013 to fanfic.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Writing this story was a really interesting experience, because it deals with Mulder and Scully raising William together and I am not so much a fan of either AU or familyfic. But I did want to try my hand at writing one, and surprised myself by having a lot of fun with it. It was also a good chance to revisit the Charlie I wrote for Love's Austere And Lonely Offices. As mentioned in the summary, this pretty much goes AU from DeadAlive. I imagined Mulder having been in a coma for a week or so, then spending a few days at the hospital, then coming home.
CSM quotes Johnny Tremain without troubling himself to mention it.
Many, many thanks to Amanda for telling me I could do it, to Dasha for encouraging the first draft, and to Scarlet for kicking my ass on a fairly regular basis.
****
June 14th, 2005
John Doggett takes a bite of his sandwich, jabbing at the picture on the table with a highlighter as he chews. "There's no way, Mulder. No way. It's water damage on the wallpaper."
Mulder shrugs. "I just call 'em as I see 'em."
Monica Reyes squints. "No, I can see it. Look here. If it were water damage, it would just be on the wallpaper, but this is something in front of the mirror. Look, it's reflected. See that smudge? It's exactly the same as the shape over the wall. And that corona could be ectoplasm."
Doggett rolls his eyes. "I'm not gonna pretend I haven't seen a lot of weird things that can be chalked up to some kind of paranormal cause since I started this job, but that isn't a ghost. That's bad plumbing."
"What about the clanking noise the woman heard before the murder, John?"
"Bad plumbing is noisy."
Mulder grins, enjoying a sense of déjà vu by proxy. "I wish you both luck in all your endeavors," he says, getting to his feet. "But I have a flight to catch. I'll call you in a few days if I can."
Monica looks up. "You off for a summer vacation?"
"Rumors of alien abductions at Xunantunich."
"Naturally. Guatemala?"
"Belize. Anyway, good luck with your ghost slash plumbing problem." Mulder leaves fifteen dollars on the table to cover his lunch. On his way out, he hears them bickering about lens flares. Feeling suddenly homesick, he pulls out his phone to call Scully.
****
December 25, 2005
"Merry Christmas!" Scully calls, pushing the door open. Mulder follows behind her, William hiding under his long overcoat. Snow swirls in behind them, the freezing air sharp against the heady aromas of turkey and nutmeg and sage. Mulder kicks the door shut and William tightens his grip on the small, wheeled suitcase he's dragging behind him.
"Feliz Navidad," Mulder says to the assembly in the living room. "And Happy Hanukkah, as it happens."
"Oh, are you Jewish?" asks Tara brightly.
"I offer fealty to no lord."
"Um," she replies. "Okay."
Bill Scully gets to his feet, walking over to hug his sister. His beefy arms utterly envelop her. "Merry Christmas, Dana." He glances over her shoulder. "Mulder."
Mulder smiles a plasticky smile and says, "Ahoy, Cap'n."
Bill drops his arms and crouches down. "William! How are you? I haven't seen you since you were a tiny baby. I bet you don't remember me."
William squirms, hiding his face against his father's leg. Bill smiles awkwardly before getting to his feet. "Cute."
Mulder is mildly ashamed of his plan to use his son's discomfort to his advantage. "I think Will's a little overwhelmed. I'm gonna take him upstairs until he's a bit more settled." He heads for the stairs just as Maggie Scully bustles over wearing a loud red sweater ornamented with a bobbled Christmas tree. Mulder thinks that she looks like a kindergarten teacher and finds himself charmed by her tacky knitwear. He leans down to kiss her cheek. "Merry Christmas, Maggie. The presents are still in the car. And there's pie," he tells her. "Pecan and apple."
"Dana still won't eat pumpkin?"
Mulder shakes his head sadly. "Not since the Cheesecake Factory debacle. Will and I are going to go relax for a few."
"Okay," she says. She says hello to William, who waves but remains tucked away even as they walk upstairs. She smiles to herself and returns to the kitchen to prod her turkey.
Scully flops on the couch next to Tara. She reaches over to give her sister in law a hug, then leans against the armrest. "It's been too long, Tara."
"I saw you on CNN!" Tara says. "The thing with that cult guy? That was incredible!"
"Kyle Strauth," Scully sighs. "Catching him was bad enough. The trial should be like Chinese water torture. Where's Matthew?" she asks. "Ditching the old folks?"
"He's next door playing with the neighbor's spaniel," Bill answers. "He was campaigning for a puppy all year. He's dog-crazy."
"He doesn't know we're taking him to the shelter when we get back," Tara adds. "He gets to pick."
Scully smiles. "You were dog-crazy too, Bill. What was the name of the dog you and Missy found that time? Remember? It lived with us for like five days until the owner came and got it. It was something ridiculous. Mr. Barkington?"
"Lord Fluffworth!" says Bill, laughing. "I had forgotten all about that."
"He wasn't even fluffy," Scully recalls. "He was a miniature Schnauzer. We're thinking of getting a dog, but William hasn't asked yet and I'm busy enough as it is."
"Is William usually shy?" asks Tara.
Scully shrugs. "It all depends. He has been lately. He's going to preschool three mornings a week and while he loves it, I think it's tapped into some fear of separation."
"Mulder still staying home with him the rest of the time?" Bill asks.
"Mostly," says Scully, knowing her brother well enough to be wary of the follow-up.
"You two getting married any time soon?" he asks.
"Bill!" snaps Tara. "It's none of your business."
"It's a valid question," Scully says in the tone she uses when one of her agents has done something so tragically stupid it would be sheer cruelty to point it out.
"Marriage is a sacrament," Bill tells her. "Aren't you worried about your soul, Dana? About what you're teaching William?"
"Sodomy, it's between God and me," sings Scully under her breath.
"What?"
"Nothing. Bill, we've not got any plans to get married right now, but your interest is duly noted. If things change, I'll mail you a save the date card."
"What are we supposed to call him?" Bill asks, verging on petulance. "Your boyfriend?"
"You can call him the same thing you always have," Scully tells him as she gets to her feet. "He's my partner." She walks to the hallway and calls to her mother in the kitchen. "Mom! Where's Dad's old twenty-two? I want to go shoot some mistletoe out of that big oak tree."
"It's in the garage, honey," her mother yells back. Scully gives her brother a chilly look before heading out to the deck.
Bill sighs and his wife pinches his leg. "For heaven's sake," she says. "Keep your mouth shut sometimes." He gets up in search of cashews.
Mulder comes downstairs a few minutes later, William dragging his suitcase bump-bump-bump down the stairs behind them.
Tara leans forward and smiles. "Hi," she says. "I'm your Aunt Tara."
"Hi. I'm your nephew William." He holds his hand out and she shakes it solemnly.
"Whatcha got in your suitcase, William? Secret stuff?"
He sits down to unzip it, removing his belongings for his aunt's inspection. "I have a coloring book, crayons, five dinosaurs, a big truck, a small truck, and my stuffed hedgehog named Hox."
"And a compass," Mulder adds.
"Oh, yes. And a compass. In case we get lost," he explains.
"That's smart. We got lost on our way from the airport. There was a road closure and we had to find a different way here."
"I'm learning how to read maps," William tells her. "I know left, right, stop, and how many traffic lights to the grocery store. It's three." He pushes one of the dinosaurs around in the big truck. "Where's Uncle Bill? And Nana? And Matthew? And my mom?"
"Uncle Bill is in the kitchen with your grandmother, your mom is outside getting the mistletoe, and Matthew is playing with the neighbor's dog. Would you like to put on your coat and we can go outside together and see Matthew and the dog?"
"Yes, please."
"Do you want me to come too?" Mulder asks. He takes the small coat from the back of the couch and hands it to his son.
William regards his aunt for a moment, then gets up to pull his coat on. "No thanks. But you can hold Hox if you get lonely." He passes his father the toy and takes Tara's hand. "I'll show you where Nana keeps the treats if you want," he tells her in a stage whisper. "She thinks I don't know, but there's a tricky drawer by the toaster."
Tara laughs and winks at Mulder. He smiles back at her, watching them go outside. Tucking Hox into his pocket, he heads out to the car to gather the pies and gifts.
****
The boys are in the living room playing with their new toys, oblivious of the hilarity in the dining room.
Scully is laughing helplessly, one hand on Mulder's shoulder. Bill's eyes are streaming and Maggie is patting a red-faced Tara comfortingly. Mulder has finally stopped laughing, but his jaw hurts from the recent exertion.
"How could you not know?" Scully finally manages.
Tara hides her face in her hands. "They go so fast you can't see them!" she wails. "I didn't know they had little sleds!"
"So all this time, you thought the luge was pretty much just a frozen water slide?" Mulder asks.
This sets them all off again and Maggie wipes at her eyes with a napkin while Tara pretends to pout, though she's laughing at herself before long as well.
"Oh, God," says Scully, when she finally catches her breath. "I'm going to go make a pot of coffee. Anybody need anything while I'm up?"
"Dana, why don't you put everything on the serving cart and bring it out to the living room?" her mother suggests. "Then we can watch the boys play."
"I'll give you a hand," Mulder says, as everyone gets to their feet to adjourn to the living room. "I'm very helpful with pie."
"You're so noble." They walk into the kitchen as the others file out and settle into the cozy furniture.
Bill Scully stands next to the couch where his mother and his wife sit, watching his nephew and his son race fire trucks around the large Oriental rug. Charlie and crew off heaven only knows where, Melissa dead, and Dana living some crazy life with her lunatic partner. He sighs, frustrated by life's persistence at undermining his expectations.
"Everything okay, Bill?" Maggie asks, looking up at him.
"Huh? Yeah. I'm, uh, just a little jet-lagged or something I guess."
"Well, Dana should have the coffee out in a minute. Actually, Bill, can you go ask her to use the dishes with the little red flowers instead of the old blue set? I don't mind if the boys break the red ones."
"Why don't you just use plastic?" he asks.
"It's Christmas!" says Maggie, sounding scandalized. "We don't use plastic on Christmas."
He shakes his head, smiling as he walks down the hall to the kitchen. His sister is slouched against the refrigerator and Mulder is dangling a clump of green leaves over her head. Bill takes a few steps back, but he can see them from around the corner in the entryway mirror.
"Merry Christmas, Annie Oakley," Mulder says.
"I always was a better shot than you," she replies sweetly.
He dips down to kiss her and Bill looks away, leaning against the wall. He wants his sister happy. He does not want Mulder to make her happy. But Bill believes men can be saved by both grace and good works. He sighs again, then says a quiet prayer to the god of lambs and tigers. Reconciliation too is a sacrament. He walks back to the living room and finally, finally, he tamps down the last shovelful of earth on Melissa's grave.
****
July 19, 2006
Scully sits bolt upright in bed, gasping for air.
She kicks the covers off and races down the hall to William's room. He is balled up in his bed, shaking and breathing shallowly. "Mulder!" she yells, running to her son's bed. "Get some shoes on! We need to go to the ER!"
She scoops William up in her arms, keeping the blanket wrapped around him. He is shivering violently that it is a struggle to keep a solid grip on his small body. Scully sees that his lips and his nail beds are bluish; the pulse under her fingers is thready and fast. She presses her mouth to his forehead and her heart sinks at the burning heat of it.
"You heard me," William manages through chattering teeth.
"Shh," Scully soothes, hurrying to the hallway as fast as she can. She nearly crashes into Mulder in the doorway. "I think it's pneumonia," she tells him.
He takes the trembling boy from her and hands her a pair of shoes. "I'll get him in the car. Stick these on and we'll get going."
She nods, slips the shoes on, grabs William's stuffed hedgehog, and follows after them.
****
November 23, 2006
Dear William,
You won't be receiving this letter for some time, but perhaps it will help you gain some perspective when you finally do get to read it.
I told your mother once that a man looks back on the sum of his life to see what he'll leave behind. In my case, the end total has been distressingly low, though I am not foolish enough to lay the blame on anyone else other than myself. Perhaps you know now that you have an aunt and an uncle you'll never meet, though your father does have a penchant for secrecy. But I know you have your own ways of acquiring information. In truth, I cannot say I regret my choices but there are times when I wonder if there could have been another way. The losses are heavy, but the human spirit is eminently resilient. We grieve and move on. It's a skill you must acquire if you are to survive.
The world in which we now live is a strange one, but that we are alive in it is a miracle in and of itself. You're beginning to truly appreciate that now, I'd imagine. How much do you see beyond your immediate field of vision? And how much do you understand?
I hold no hope of reconciliation with your parents, nor do I suspect it is necessarily desirable. In the end, William, we don't fight to win. We fight so that a man can stand up. Your father will tell you that too, though he and I stand for different things.
I wonder what you will stand for.
Your grandfather
****
April 11, 2007
Scully sinks lower in the tub, blowing puffs of bubbles onto the tile. "I need more wine," she informs Mulder, her words a touch slurred.
"I don't know about that," Mulder says. "I think I may need to cut you off before you drown yourself."
"I'm an excellent swimmer." She widens her eyes appealingly.
"Lush," Mulder chides, but refills her glass. "So are you coming out of that water any time soon, or should I look into scuba gear?"
She takes a sip, making an appreciative murmur. "Could be a while. Why don't you get in with me?"
"Pfft. No thank you. Only pasta should be in water that hot."
"Wimp." She pouts for a moment, then downs the rest of her wine. "More, please."
"I'm afraid there isn't any more." Mulder takes her glass, which he places on the edge of the sunken tub. He sits down next to it. "Come here and I'll wash your hair."
Scully narrows her eyes suspiciously. "And what horrible sin are you about to confess?"
"I'm hurt, really. Here I am, trying to be nice, and you're making baseless accusations."
"I wouldn't say they're baseless," she says, but slides around so that her back is to him.
Mulder dips the wine glass into the water. "Look up." She does, and he shields her eyes with one hand, spilling the contents of the glass over her head. It sluices down her hair and throat and the tops of her breasts. He puts it back down, then rummages through the bath caddy for a moment. He finds her peppermint shampoo and squirts some into his hand, working up a lather before massaging it into her hair.
"You're a good shampoo boy."
He turns on the spray nozzle to rinse her hair. "Oh, I bet that's just the liquor talking."
She rolls her head. "Mean it. But don't tell my regular guy I said so."
Mulder finds the tea tree oil conditioner and warms some in his hands. Then he slicks it onto her hair, kneading his fingers into her scalp as she makes small noises of contentment. "It'll be our secret," he assures her, rinsing her hair again. "I don't want to incite the wrath of Yuri."
"He once shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die," Scully mumbles. "Oh, that feels really good."
"I bet Yuri doesn't do this for you." He presses his thumbs just above the wings of her shoulder blades, his fingers curling over her clavicles. She closes her eyes and drowses for fifteen minutes as he works out the knots in the fine muscles of her neck and shoulders.
"I can't believe you read my thesis," she murmurs at length, feeling reasonably sober.
"What?"
"The day I met you, you told me you read my senior thesis."
"What on earth made you think of that?"
Scully shrugs. "I found a box of my stuff that got put in your office by mistake and started going through it. That was in there. I reread the whole thing and I cringed at parts." She laughs a little. "God, I was so prim."
He smiles, recalling his speedy plow through her dense writing. "I had to do my homework. I was so impressed by your youthful optimism. Shame you lost that. Though you did find a better tailor."
She chuckles. "I might say the same for you. You know, time travel into the future is allowed by the laws of physics. It was backwards time travel I argued with you over."
"But you still don't believe the future can be altered?"
"Read Brian Greene's loaf theory of parallel universes. I think maybe we can just travel amongst an infinite range of possible outcomes, which gives the illusion that we are affecting the future."
He grabs a towel and begins to dry her hair. "If you could go back into the past, Scully, where would you go? You can't kill Hitler or anything."
"I don't know how I'd ever possibly choose. I mean, there are so many things I'd want to see. The library at Alexandria, Marie Curie's lab, the Athenian agora…I could spend months just watching Leonardo da Vinci or Isaac Newton. There's no way I could pick, Mulder." She stands in the tub, slightly wobbly, and reaches for the spray nozzle, washing off the small clouds of suds that cling to her body. Scully steps onto the ledge, then wraps herself in the thick robe Mulder is holding out. "Mm. Thank you. So what about you? Where would you go?" she asks, crossing the room.
Mulder watches her sit in the chair before her vanity. She removes the lid from one of her many jars of moisturizer, then dips her fingers in to extract a large blob of the stuff. Stretching her right leg out, she rests her foot on the counter top and slowly works the cream into her skin.
"August 1998," he answers. "I'd go into that hallway and kill that goddamned bee under your collar."
She laughs deeply, her teeth showing and her hair falling past her shoulders as her head tips back. "I thought you said there was no killing."
He walks behind her, resting his hands on the chair back. "Bees don't count."
Scully props her left leg up and begins lotioning it. "So that's really what you'd go back and do? It wouldn't change anything, would it? I mean, supposing we could actually affect the temporal flow at all, which - as you know - I don't believe. But anyway, we're here now, Mulder. So why the bee?"
Mulder gazes at their reflections in the mirror. "Because that's the moment we both realized we'd spent five years waiting for it to rain sleeping bags and I want to know what would have happened."
She looks up at him, surprised. "I would have gone to bed with you about fifteen minutes later. It was just too awkward after Antarctica. Didn't you know that?"
"Definitely the bee, then."
****
October 28, 2007
Scully is at the counter, putting pairs of chocolate chip cookies into orange and black baggies decorated with rabid-looking bats. Mulder walks up behind her and peers over her shoulder. "Golly, Mrs. Cleaver. Those cookies sure do look swell." He runs his hands down her back, settling them at her waist.
She is agreeably playful. "Thank you, Eddie. But I think you'd better go now. Ward will be home soon."
"There's a pearl necklace joke in here somewhere, but I can't find it."
"I'd advise you not to pursue the investigation."
He kisses her neck, hoping to distract her long enough to steal a snack from her tidy piles. His hand creeps along the edge of the stove, but she smacks it with a spatula. "Touch them and die. These are all organized. There are some over on that tray by the sink. You can have those."
He is affronted. "I don't want your sad reject cookies. I want a pretty one. Symmetrical. With evenly dispersed chips. I'll go get you a ruler so you can find the best."
She turns, her arms crossed, an amused expression on her face. "Really, Mulder. I had no idea your sensibilities regarding pastry were so delicate."
"That's what you get for domesticating me. Hey, where's the man of the hour?"
"You're so full of it. You just thrive on generating chaos." Scully checks her watch. "I don't know. He went to get his costume on twenty minutes ago."
A clomping on the steps interrupts their conversation. They turn to the origin of the noise. Mulder crams a cookie into his mouth. "Yoink," he says thickly.
Scully glares, but directs her attention to the small pirate in the living room. "Captain Sparrow! You look terrifying."
"Yargh!" he says fiercely. "Hey, can you do my eyeliner?"
"Yes, be sure you look your best before you pillage anything," says Mulder, brushing crumbs from his mouth. "Or else you won't meet any good wenches."
"What's wenches?"
"Ladies of ill repute."
"What's ill repute?"
"He's being silly," Scully interrupts. "Come here and I'll fix your beard." She mouths "shut up" over William's hat as she straightens the elastic at the back of his head. Then she rummages through her makeup bag for a kohl pencil.
"So, you excited for the carnival, Will?" Mulder asks, watching as Scully carefully rings the wide blue eyes in sooty black.
"Yeah, I guess. You got the bat bags, right? Those were better than the pumpkins."
"Bats, yes. Okay, you're all set." William blinks a few times. He passes a clip-on earring to his mother, cocking his head to give better access to his ear.
"Isn't six a little young for all this makeup and jewelry?" Mulder queries. "Shouldn't you wait for prom?"
William looks contemptuously at his father. "It's pirate stuff. It's cool."
"You're right, I'm sorry. It's very cool and you are the coolest pirate on the seven seas. Is your mom dressing up as Keira Knightley?"
Scully shakes her head behind William's dreadlocked wig, but he can see her eyes smiling.
"No," says William seriously. "She's still going as a witch doctor."
"Ah, well. Maybe later."
Scully shoots him a hard look, but there is still mirth beneath it. "Why don't you go get dressed, Mulder? It'll just take me a few minutes to get ready. The hat's already in the car."
He gets to his feet and watches William admire his own reflection in the hall mirror. "Many cultures traditionally associate red hair with witchcraft," he remarks to Scully.
"I know that."
"I know you do. Have you a close personal relationship with a cat or owl? Sixth finger? Unusual freckles or birthmarks?"
"Be nice this afternoon and you can check me over later."
They share a smile, then Mulder walks to the stairs. "Hey! Captain Jack! Where'd you bury the chest of vampire fangs?"
William rattles his sword at the mirror. "In your nightstand drawer. Savvy?"
"Savvy."
****
They park the car behind William's school and get out. Scully is wearing scrubs, a stethoscope, and a pointed black witch's hat. Mulder is resplendent as an old Hollywood vampire. William dashes across the lot, disappearing among a cluster of small children who are hovering near the cotton candy machine.
Mulder opens and closes his mouth experimentally, the fanged caps on his incisors staying put as he runs his tongue over them. "I vant to trink your blud," he says in a rumbly voice, swooping his cape around Scully.
"If you do, be quick about it. I'm supposed to be manning the duck pond for an hour and they'll need to find a replacement."
"I find your community spirit endearing," he confesses as they make their way to the bake sale table behind the moon bounce. "It's very suburban of you."
"I think it takes the emphasis off the fact that we're living in sin," she replies dryly.
"Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live," he tells her, unloading bags of cookies. "I may be obligated by scripture to drain your life's blood after all. Cut back on my sinning. Hello, Olivia," he says to the attractive blonde woman counting the bills in the cash box. "How's tricks?"
"Can't complain," she replies. "Though you'd think with the tuition they charge, I wouldn't need to be out here hawking cookies like an overgrown Girl Scout."
"I bet you'd look cute in the uniform," Mulder tells her, licking his fangs.
Olivia laughs. "I'd tell you to keep your eye on him, Dana, if it weren't so obviously unnecessary. And where's that other handsome man of yours? I heard all about his costume. I wanted to see it."
"He's right over there," Scully says, pointing towards the group of kids now eating wads of pink fluff.
Olivia stands and squints. "I don't see any pirates. Has he got a hat?"
"Of course. And he's wearing a -" Mulder stops. "Scully, he's not there."
They hurry to where William was standing only a minute ago. "Shivani? Max? Any of you guys know where Will went?"
Shivani, dressed like Hermione Granger, points her wand towards the parking lot. "He went with Mr. Ellsworth."
"The headmaster? Why?"
"He said he needed a pirate helper to get some treasure out of his trunk. Do you want a chocolate frog?"
Mulder politely declines, scanning the parking lot for Mr. Ellsworth's car. It is in the usual spot, but no one is nearby. He fights the rising panic. "Shivani, was Mr. Ellsworth wearing a costume today?"
She nods. "He was a clown."
His face was covered in makeup, Mulder thinks. He could have been anyone. Scully tosses her hat off as they run to Mr. Ellsworth's car, which is locked, and Mulder smashes the window open with a rock. He reaches in and pops the trunk. He hears Scully gasp.
He joins her at the back of the car to peer down at Jonathan Ellsworth, who is bound, gagged, and unconscious. His face is covered with clown makeup but he is otherwise naked. Scully checks his pulse with trembling fingers.
"He's alive. Mulder, what the hell is going on?" she asks, pulling out her phone to call the FBI's Child Abduction Rapid Deployment team.
Mulder dashes through the parking lot, calling William's name, while Scully tells the agent on the phone to hurry up NOW because she is the ASAC of the DC Field Office and this is her kid and do not fuck with her thankyouverymuch goodbye.
She runs after Mulder and grabs his sleeve when she catches up. "What do we do?" she asks. "I don't know what we're supposed to do when we're on the other side."
Mulder, who is breathless and feeling slightly hysterical, tells her that they should stay calm and rational and wait for the CARD team and the police and whoever else is showing up to show up. An odd look crosses Scully's face. She staggers backwards, then sits down on the pavement. "Mulder, get the car."
"What? Scully what's wrong?"
"I think I can find him. Just get the car."
He asks no more questions, but runs to get the car and pulls it up next to her. She gets shakily to her feet and climbs in. "He sees Disney World," she says, shutting the door. "Through the trees."
"What? Disney World?"
"He doesn't have another name for it." She sounds frantic.
Mulder slams his fist against the steering wheel in frustration.
"The Mormon Temple," he says suddenly, laying eight feet of rubber as he takes Q Street to MacArthur. "That looks kind of like Disney World. What else, Scully?"
She closes her eyes, tapping her fingers frantically. "He's in a white van. A big one, like when the painters came. There's nothing written on the outside though. It hasn't got any windows on the sides, but there's a…he doesn't know what it's called - I think he means grate - over the window on the rear door. Anyway, he can see out a little from there."
Scully's phone rings, making them both jump. She passes it to Mulder, who doesn't have time to say hello before Skinner starts talking. "Scully, what the hell is going on? I heard the CARD team has been dispatched to William's school and that -"
"Someone's got William."
"I'm in my car on my way there now. Stay put, Mulder, because if you -"
"We're on Nebraska Avenue."
"What do you mean? What are you doing?"
"I don't have time to explain right now, but William's in an unmarked white van somewhere near the Mormon Temple. You need to put an APB out for it now. I'll call you as soon as I learn anything else." Mulder listens for another moment before hanging up the phone. He turns to Scully. "He's coming at this guy with everything he's got. Two helicopters plus ground coverage. What else do you see?"
She closes her eyes and, after a moment, she speaks. "They're driving under another road. A bridge. There are lots of other cars. They're going fast." She opens her eyes again. "495 eastbound, just before 97. Tell Skinner to shut it down now."
Mulder calls Skinner back, relaying Scully's information as he navigates through the familiar streets, all of them now looking alien and hostile. He feels each minute tick like an eternity. Unable to stand it any longer, he runs a red light on Connecticut Avenue. It almost causes a four-car pileup and he swerves around the other drivers. They honk at him angrily, but he scarcely notices. He goes against traffic in the Chevy Chase Circle - nearly up on two wheels at one point - tires squealing as he hits the on-ramp for 495. The cars are all at a standstill, however. He and Scully leap from their vehicle and run along the shoulder. Scully has her badge out.
Two helicopters hover like dragons above the roadway. Cars are clogging the lanes and FBI agents and police officers are going from driver to driver.
"STOP!" one of the officers shouts at Mulder and Scully. "You! Stop now!"
They freeze, Scully holding up her badge a little higher. "That's our son you're looking for!" she shouts. "Where's Deputy Director Skinner?"
Skinner runs over before the woman can reply. "Scully!" he shouts. "What's going on?"
"Have you found him?"
"Not yet, but if he was on 495, he can't get anywhere. We've got choppers surveying from the air if he tries to escape on foot. How do you know he's here?"
Mulder comes up from behind. He touches her shoulder. "What do you see?"
She closes her eyes and shakes her head. "He's still in the van. He hears the door open. The helicopters, he -" She opens her eyes. "He can hear the helicopters, Mulder. He must be here somewhere. He must be here." She whirls around, searching for a white van in the sea of cars.
Skinner looks briefly confused, but the years have taught him which questions are worth asking. "Scully, there's nowhere he can go. If this man is escaping from the vehicle, we'll find him."
"What if he plans to kill William and then himself?" she asks. "You know there's plenty of precedent for it, and we don't know anything about the kidnapper's MO."
Skinner opens his mouth to speak, but the words are swallowed up by a voice over the PA system of the further helicopter.
"THIS IS THE FBI - STOP! PUT YOUR HANDS UP! YOU ARE SURROUNDED. I REPEAT, STOP AND PUT YOUR HANDS UP!"
Mulder, Scully, and Skinner race towards the aircraft, along with the law enforcement officials. By the edge of the woods flanking the roadway is a man in jeans and a sweatshirt, slight traces of clown makeup still evident on his face. His hands are up, but he doesn't look particularly agitated.
Scully pulls her gun from her ankle holster and points it at him. "Andrew Strauth," she spits. "How's your piece of shit brother enjoying federal prison?"
"He thinks about you all the time," says the man laconically. "Real nice little boy you have, Agent Scully."
Scully's finger slides towards the trigger.
Skinner moves beside her. "Scully, put the gun down. We've got him. Put the gun down and go get your son."
"No. Mulder, go get William."
Mulder goes to the van. He climbs inside, emerging a moment later with William, who is crying and has black tears running down his cheeks from the pirate makeup. Mulder shields his son's face as he walks back down the road to their car.
"Scully, put the goddamned gun down," Skinner hisses in her ear.
She does, finally, and steps closer to watch the officers cuff the man on the hood of his van. "You better pray they never let you out," she informs him flatly. She walks after Mulder and William.
****
June 4, 2008
"Is Hobbes a real tiger or a pretend tiger?" William wants to know as they close the book.
"What do you think?" his mother says, stretching out on top of the comforter.
"I think he's a real tiger. It's better that way."
"I think so too," Scully agrees. She smoothes her hand over his hair.
"Bad people can't get out of jail, can they?" he asks her.
Yes, baby, they can. Can and do every damned day of my life.
"No," she lies.
"Sometimes I still have bad dreams," he mumbles.
"Me too." She bumps her forehead against his. "What do you think we should do about it?"
William considers this. "We could think about not-scary things. And we could give each other our ideas and make good dreams for each other."
"I like that idea." She swirls her fingers through her hair, pretending to pull something invisible from her head. She rubs it into William's scalp. "Here," she says. "These are good dreams about a little boy and his friend the tiger. And they build a duplicator out of a cardboard box and build funny snowmen and have adventures in their wagon."
William grins and pulls dreams from his own head, pressing them to hers. "These are good dreams about a boy who bakes his mom a cake and it looks like a dinosaur and it's really full of four kinds of chocolate and they drive in a fire truck to the moon with Dad and there's giraffes there and they all eat the cake and have a party for a hundred years and nobody gets tired."
Scully laughs. "That's a great dream. I can't wait to have it."
They curl close to each other, breathing deeply, until they drift to sleep. When Mulder finds them, he gets the camera, shuts off the sound, and takes a dozen pictures.
****
Part 4
RATING: R
SPOILERS: Through DeadAlive
DISCLAIMER: Breaking seal constitutes acceptance of agreement. Proceed at your own risk. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. For recreational purposes only. Driver does not carry cash. And, as always, thank you for choosing Aloysia Airlines for your direct flight from 1013 to fanfic.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Writing this story was a really interesting experience, because it deals with Mulder and Scully raising William together and I am not so much a fan of either AU or familyfic. But I did want to try my hand at writing one, and surprised myself by having a lot of fun with it. It was also a good chance to revisit the Charlie I wrote for Love's Austere And Lonely Offices. As mentioned in the summary, this pretty much goes AU from DeadAlive. I imagined Mulder having been in a coma for a week or so, then spending a few days at the hospital, then coming home.
CSM quotes Johnny Tremain without troubling himself to mention it.
Many, many thanks to Amanda for telling me I could do it, to Dasha for encouraging the first draft, and to Scarlet for kicking my ass on a fairly regular basis.
****
June 14th, 2005
John Doggett takes a bite of his sandwich, jabbing at the picture on the table with a highlighter as he chews. "There's no way, Mulder. No way. It's water damage on the wallpaper."
Mulder shrugs. "I just call 'em as I see 'em."
Monica Reyes squints. "No, I can see it. Look here. If it were water damage, it would just be on the wallpaper, but this is something in front of the mirror. Look, it's reflected. See that smudge? It's exactly the same as the shape over the wall. And that corona could be ectoplasm."
Doggett rolls his eyes. "I'm not gonna pretend I haven't seen a lot of weird things that can be chalked up to some kind of paranormal cause since I started this job, but that isn't a ghost. That's bad plumbing."
"What about the clanking noise the woman heard before the murder, John?"
"Bad plumbing is noisy."
Mulder grins, enjoying a sense of déjà vu by proxy. "I wish you both luck in all your endeavors," he says, getting to his feet. "But I have a flight to catch. I'll call you in a few days if I can."
Monica looks up. "You off for a summer vacation?"
"Rumors of alien abductions at Xunantunich."
"Naturally. Guatemala?"
"Belize. Anyway, good luck with your ghost slash plumbing problem." Mulder leaves fifteen dollars on the table to cover his lunch. On his way out, he hears them bickering about lens flares. Feeling suddenly homesick, he pulls out his phone to call Scully.
****
December 25, 2005
"Merry Christmas!" Scully calls, pushing the door open. Mulder follows behind her, William hiding under his long overcoat. Snow swirls in behind them, the freezing air sharp against the heady aromas of turkey and nutmeg and sage. Mulder kicks the door shut and William tightens his grip on the small, wheeled suitcase he's dragging behind him.
"Feliz Navidad," Mulder says to the assembly in the living room. "And Happy Hanukkah, as it happens."
"Oh, are you Jewish?" asks Tara brightly.
"I offer fealty to no lord."
"Um," she replies. "Okay."
Bill Scully gets to his feet, walking over to hug his sister. His beefy arms utterly envelop her. "Merry Christmas, Dana." He glances over her shoulder. "Mulder."
Mulder smiles a plasticky smile and says, "Ahoy, Cap'n."
Bill drops his arms and crouches down. "William! How are you? I haven't seen you since you were a tiny baby. I bet you don't remember me."
William squirms, hiding his face against his father's leg. Bill smiles awkwardly before getting to his feet. "Cute."
Mulder is mildly ashamed of his plan to use his son's discomfort to his advantage. "I think Will's a little overwhelmed. I'm gonna take him upstairs until he's a bit more settled." He heads for the stairs just as Maggie Scully bustles over wearing a loud red sweater ornamented with a bobbled Christmas tree. Mulder thinks that she looks like a kindergarten teacher and finds himself charmed by her tacky knitwear. He leans down to kiss her cheek. "Merry Christmas, Maggie. The presents are still in the car. And there's pie," he tells her. "Pecan and apple."
"Dana still won't eat pumpkin?"
Mulder shakes his head sadly. "Not since the Cheesecake Factory debacle. Will and I are going to go relax for a few."
"Okay," she says. She says hello to William, who waves but remains tucked away even as they walk upstairs. She smiles to herself and returns to the kitchen to prod her turkey.
Scully flops on the couch next to Tara. She reaches over to give her sister in law a hug, then leans against the armrest. "It's been too long, Tara."
"I saw you on CNN!" Tara says. "The thing with that cult guy? That was incredible!"
"Kyle Strauth," Scully sighs. "Catching him was bad enough. The trial should be like Chinese water torture. Where's Matthew?" she asks. "Ditching the old folks?"
"He's next door playing with the neighbor's spaniel," Bill answers. "He was campaigning for a puppy all year. He's dog-crazy."
"He doesn't know we're taking him to the shelter when we get back," Tara adds. "He gets to pick."
Scully smiles. "You were dog-crazy too, Bill. What was the name of the dog you and Missy found that time? Remember? It lived with us for like five days until the owner came and got it. It was something ridiculous. Mr. Barkington?"
"Lord Fluffworth!" says Bill, laughing. "I had forgotten all about that."
"He wasn't even fluffy," Scully recalls. "He was a miniature Schnauzer. We're thinking of getting a dog, but William hasn't asked yet and I'm busy enough as it is."
"Is William usually shy?" asks Tara.
Scully shrugs. "It all depends. He has been lately. He's going to preschool three mornings a week and while he loves it, I think it's tapped into some fear of separation."
"Mulder still staying home with him the rest of the time?" Bill asks.
"Mostly," says Scully, knowing her brother well enough to be wary of the follow-up.
"You two getting married any time soon?" he asks.
"Bill!" snaps Tara. "It's none of your business."
"It's a valid question," Scully says in the tone she uses when one of her agents has done something so tragically stupid it would be sheer cruelty to point it out.
"Marriage is a sacrament," Bill tells her. "Aren't you worried about your soul, Dana? About what you're teaching William?"
"Sodomy, it's between God and me," sings Scully under her breath.
"What?"
"Nothing. Bill, we've not got any plans to get married right now, but your interest is duly noted. If things change, I'll mail you a save the date card."
"What are we supposed to call him?" Bill asks, verging on petulance. "Your boyfriend?"
"You can call him the same thing you always have," Scully tells him as she gets to her feet. "He's my partner." She walks to the hallway and calls to her mother in the kitchen. "Mom! Where's Dad's old twenty-two? I want to go shoot some mistletoe out of that big oak tree."
"It's in the garage, honey," her mother yells back. Scully gives her brother a chilly look before heading out to the deck.
Bill sighs and his wife pinches his leg. "For heaven's sake," she says. "Keep your mouth shut sometimes." He gets up in search of cashews.
Mulder comes downstairs a few minutes later, William dragging his suitcase bump-bump-bump down the stairs behind them.
Tara leans forward and smiles. "Hi," she says. "I'm your Aunt Tara."
"Hi. I'm your nephew William." He holds his hand out and she shakes it solemnly.
"Whatcha got in your suitcase, William? Secret stuff?"
He sits down to unzip it, removing his belongings for his aunt's inspection. "I have a coloring book, crayons, five dinosaurs, a big truck, a small truck, and my stuffed hedgehog named Hox."
"And a compass," Mulder adds.
"Oh, yes. And a compass. In case we get lost," he explains.
"That's smart. We got lost on our way from the airport. There was a road closure and we had to find a different way here."
"I'm learning how to read maps," William tells her. "I know left, right, stop, and how many traffic lights to the grocery store. It's three." He pushes one of the dinosaurs around in the big truck. "Where's Uncle Bill? And Nana? And Matthew? And my mom?"
"Uncle Bill is in the kitchen with your grandmother, your mom is outside getting the mistletoe, and Matthew is playing with the neighbor's dog. Would you like to put on your coat and we can go outside together and see Matthew and the dog?"
"Yes, please."
"Do you want me to come too?" Mulder asks. He takes the small coat from the back of the couch and hands it to his son.
William regards his aunt for a moment, then gets up to pull his coat on. "No thanks. But you can hold Hox if you get lonely." He passes his father the toy and takes Tara's hand. "I'll show you where Nana keeps the treats if you want," he tells her in a stage whisper. "She thinks I don't know, but there's a tricky drawer by the toaster."
Tara laughs and winks at Mulder. He smiles back at her, watching them go outside. Tucking Hox into his pocket, he heads out to the car to gather the pies and gifts.
****
The boys are in the living room playing with their new toys, oblivious of the hilarity in the dining room.
Scully is laughing helplessly, one hand on Mulder's shoulder. Bill's eyes are streaming and Maggie is patting a red-faced Tara comfortingly. Mulder has finally stopped laughing, but his jaw hurts from the recent exertion.
"How could you not know?" Scully finally manages.
Tara hides her face in her hands. "They go so fast you can't see them!" she wails. "I didn't know they had little sleds!"
"So all this time, you thought the luge was pretty much just a frozen water slide?" Mulder asks.
This sets them all off again and Maggie wipes at her eyes with a napkin while Tara pretends to pout, though she's laughing at herself before long as well.
"Oh, God," says Scully, when she finally catches her breath. "I'm going to go make a pot of coffee. Anybody need anything while I'm up?"
"Dana, why don't you put everything on the serving cart and bring it out to the living room?" her mother suggests. "Then we can watch the boys play."
"I'll give you a hand," Mulder says, as everyone gets to their feet to adjourn to the living room. "I'm very helpful with pie."
"You're so noble." They walk into the kitchen as the others file out and settle into the cozy furniture.
Bill Scully stands next to the couch where his mother and his wife sit, watching his nephew and his son race fire trucks around the large Oriental rug. Charlie and crew off heaven only knows where, Melissa dead, and Dana living some crazy life with her lunatic partner. He sighs, frustrated by life's persistence at undermining his expectations.
"Everything okay, Bill?" Maggie asks, looking up at him.
"Huh? Yeah. I'm, uh, just a little jet-lagged or something I guess."
"Well, Dana should have the coffee out in a minute. Actually, Bill, can you go ask her to use the dishes with the little red flowers instead of the old blue set? I don't mind if the boys break the red ones."
"Why don't you just use plastic?" he asks.
"It's Christmas!" says Maggie, sounding scandalized. "We don't use plastic on Christmas."
He shakes his head, smiling as he walks down the hall to the kitchen. His sister is slouched against the refrigerator and Mulder is dangling a clump of green leaves over her head. Bill takes a few steps back, but he can see them from around the corner in the entryway mirror.
"Merry Christmas, Annie Oakley," Mulder says.
"I always was a better shot than you," she replies sweetly.
He dips down to kiss her and Bill looks away, leaning against the wall. He wants his sister happy. He does not want Mulder to make her happy. But Bill believes men can be saved by both grace and good works. He sighs again, then says a quiet prayer to the god of lambs and tigers. Reconciliation too is a sacrament. He walks back to the living room and finally, finally, he tamps down the last shovelful of earth on Melissa's grave.
****
July 19, 2006
Scully sits bolt upright in bed, gasping for air.
She kicks the covers off and races down the hall to William's room. He is balled up in his bed, shaking and breathing shallowly. "Mulder!" she yells, running to her son's bed. "Get some shoes on! We need to go to the ER!"
She scoops William up in her arms, keeping the blanket wrapped around him. He is shivering violently that it is a struggle to keep a solid grip on his small body. Scully sees that his lips and his nail beds are bluish; the pulse under her fingers is thready and fast. She presses her mouth to his forehead and her heart sinks at the burning heat of it.
"You heard me," William manages through chattering teeth.
"Shh," Scully soothes, hurrying to the hallway as fast as she can. She nearly crashes into Mulder in the doorway. "I think it's pneumonia," she tells him.
He takes the trembling boy from her and hands her a pair of shoes. "I'll get him in the car. Stick these on and we'll get going."
She nods, slips the shoes on, grabs William's stuffed hedgehog, and follows after them.
****
November 23, 2006
Dear William,
You won't be receiving this letter for some time, but perhaps it will help you gain some perspective when you finally do get to read it.
I told your mother once that a man looks back on the sum of his life to see what he'll leave behind. In my case, the end total has been distressingly low, though I am not foolish enough to lay the blame on anyone else other than myself. Perhaps you know now that you have an aunt and an uncle you'll never meet, though your father does have a penchant for secrecy. But I know you have your own ways of acquiring information. In truth, I cannot say I regret my choices but there are times when I wonder if there could have been another way. The losses are heavy, but the human spirit is eminently resilient. We grieve and move on. It's a skill you must acquire if you are to survive.
The world in which we now live is a strange one, but that we are alive in it is a miracle in and of itself. You're beginning to truly appreciate that now, I'd imagine. How much do you see beyond your immediate field of vision? And how much do you understand?
I hold no hope of reconciliation with your parents, nor do I suspect it is necessarily desirable. In the end, William, we don't fight to win. We fight so that a man can stand up. Your father will tell you that too, though he and I stand for different things.
I wonder what you will stand for.
Your grandfather
****
April 11, 2007
Scully sinks lower in the tub, blowing puffs of bubbles onto the tile. "I need more wine," she informs Mulder, her words a touch slurred.
"I don't know about that," Mulder says. "I think I may need to cut you off before you drown yourself."
"I'm an excellent swimmer." She widens her eyes appealingly.
"Lush," Mulder chides, but refills her glass. "So are you coming out of that water any time soon, or should I look into scuba gear?"
She takes a sip, making an appreciative murmur. "Could be a while. Why don't you get in with me?"
"Pfft. No thank you. Only pasta should be in water that hot."
"Wimp." She pouts for a moment, then downs the rest of her wine. "More, please."
"I'm afraid there isn't any more." Mulder takes her glass, which he places on the edge of the sunken tub. He sits down next to it. "Come here and I'll wash your hair."
Scully narrows her eyes suspiciously. "And what horrible sin are you about to confess?"
"I'm hurt, really. Here I am, trying to be nice, and you're making baseless accusations."
"I wouldn't say they're baseless," she says, but slides around so that her back is to him.
Mulder dips the wine glass into the water. "Look up." She does, and he shields her eyes with one hand, spilling the contents of the glass over her head. It sluices down her hair and throat and the tops of her breasts. He puts it back down, then rummages through the bath caddy for a moment. He finds her peppermint shampoo and squirts some into his hand, working up a lather before massaging it into her hair.
"You're a good shampoo boy."
He turns on the spray nozzle to rinse her hair. "Oh, I bet that's just the liquor talking."
She rolls her head. "Mean it. But don't tell my regular guy I said so."
Mulder finds the tea tree oil conditioner and warms some in his hands. Then he slicks it onto her hair, kneading his fingers into her scalp as she makes small noises of contentment. "It'll be our secret," he assures her, rinsing her hair again. "I don't want to incite the wrath of Yuri."
"He once shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die," Scully mumbles. "Oh, that feels really good."
"I bet Yuri doesn't do this for you." He presses his thumbs just above the wings of her shoulder blades, his fingers curling over her clavicles. She closes her eyes and drowses for fifteen minutes as he works out the knots in the fine muscles of her neck and shoulders.
"I can't believe you read my thesis," she murmurs at length, feeling reasonably sober.
"What?"
"The day I met you, you told me you read my senior thesis."
"What on earth made you think of that?"
Scully shrugs. "I found a box of my stuff that got put in your office by mistake and started going through it. That was in there. I reread the whole thing and I cringed at parts." She laughs a little. "God, I was so prim."
He smiles, recalling his speedy plow through her dense writing. "I had to do my homework. I was so impressed by your youthful optimism. Shame you lost that. Though you did find a better tailor."
She chuckles. "I might say the same for you. You know, time travel into the future is allowed by the laws of physics. It was backwards time travel I argued with you over."
"But you still don't believe the future can be altered?"
"Read Brian Greene's loaf theory of parallel universes. I think maybe we can just travel amongst an infinite range of possible outcomes, which gives the illusion that we are affecting the future."
He grabs a towel and begins to dry her hair. "If you could go back into the past, Scully, where would you go? You can't kill Hitler or anything."
"I don't know how I'd ever possibly choose. I mean, there are so many things I'd want to see. The library at Alexandria, Marie Curie's lab, the Athenian agora…I could spend months just watching Leonardo da Vinci or Isaac Newton. There's no way I could pick, Mulder." She stands in the tub, slightly wobbly, and reaches for the spray nozzle, washing off the small clouds of suds that cling to her body. Scully steps onto the ledge, then wraps herself in the thick robe Mulder is holding out. "Mm. Thank you. So what about you? Where would you go?" she asks, crossing the room.
Mulder watches her sit in the chair before her vanity. She removes the lid from one of her many jars of moisturizer, then dips her fingers in to extract a large blob of the stuff. Stretching her right leg out, she rests her foot on the counter top and slowly works the cream into her skin.
"August 1998," he answers. "I'd go into that hallway and kill that goddamned bee under your collar."
She laughs deeply, her teeth showing and her hair falling past her shoulders as her head tips back. "I thought you said there was no killing."
He walks behind her, resting his hands on the chair back. "Bees don't count."
Scully props her left leg up and begins lotioning it. "So that's really what you'd go back and do? It wouldn't change anything, would it? I mean, supposing we could actually affect the temporal flow at all, which - as you know - I don't believe. But anyway, we're here now, Mulder. So why the bee?"
Mulder gazes at their reflections in the mirror. "Because that's the moment we both realized we'd spent five years waiting for it to rain sleeping bags and I want to know what would have happened."
She looks up at him, surprised. "I would have gone to bed with you about fifteen minutes later. It was just too awkward after Antarctica. Didn't you know that?"
"Definitely the bee, then."
****
October 28, 2007
Scully is at the counter, putting pairs of chocolate chip cookies into orange and black baggies decorated with rabid-looking bats. Mulder walks up behind her and peers over her shoulder. "Golly, Mrs. Cleaver. Those cookies sure do look swell." He runs his hands down her back, settling them at her waist.
She is agreeably playful. "Thank you, Eddie. But I think you'd better go now. Ward will be home soon."
"There's a pearl necklace joke in here somewhere, but I can't find it."
"I'd advise you not to pursue the investigation."
He kisses her neck, hoping to distract her long enough to steal a snack from her tidy piles. His hand creeps along the edge of the stove, but she smacks it with a spatula. "Touch them and die. These are all organized. There are some over on that tray by the sink. You can have those."
He is affronted. "I don't want your sad reject cookies. I want a pretty one. Symmetrical. With evenly dispersed chips. I'll go get you a ruler so you can find the best."
She turns, her arms crossed, an amused expression on her face. "Really, Mulder. I had no idea your sensibilities regarding pastry were so delicate."
"That's what you get for domesticating me. Hey, where's the man of the hour?"
"You're so full of it. You just thrive on generating chaos." Scully checks her watch. "I don't know. He went to get his costume on twenty minutes ago."
A clomping on the steps interrupts their conversation. They turn to the origin of the noise. Mulder crams a cookie into his mouth. "Yoink," he says thickly.
Scully glares, but directs her attention to the small pirate in the living room. "Captain Sparrow! You look terrifying."
"Yargh!" he says fiercely. "Hey, can you do my eyeliner?"
"Yes, be sure you look your best before you pillage anything," says Mulder, brushing crumbs from his mouth. "Or else you won't meet any good wenches."
"What's wenches?"
"Ladies of ill repute."
"What's ill repute?"
"He's being silly," Scully interrupts. "Come here and I'll fix your beard." She mouths "shut up" over William's hat as she straightens the elastic at the back of his head. Then she rummages through her makeup bag for a kohl pencil.
"So, you excited for the carnival, Will?" Mulder asks, watching as Scully carefully rings the wide blue eyes in sooty black.
"Yeah, I guess. You got the bat bags, right? Those were better than the pumpkins."
"Bats, yes. Okay, you're all set." William blinks a few times. He passes a clip-on earring to his mother, cocking his head to give better access to his ear.
"Isn't six a little young for all this makeup and jewelry?" Mulder queries. "Shouldn't you wait for prom?"
William looks contemptuously at his father. "It's pirate stuff. It's cool."
"You're right, I'm sorry. It's very cool and you are the coolest pirate on the seven seas. Is your mom dressing up as Keira Knightley?"
Scully shakes her head behind William's dreadlocked wig, but he can see her eyes smiling.
"No," says William seriously. "She's still going as a witch doctor."
"Ah, well. Maybe later."
Scully shoots him a hard look, but there is still mirth beneath it. "Why don't you go get dressed, Mulder? It'll just take me a few minutes to get ready. The hat's already in the car."
He gets to his feet and watches William admire his own reflection in the hall mirror. "Many cultures traditionally associate red hair with witchcraft," he remarks to Scully.
"I know that."
"I know you do. Have you a close personal relationship with a cat or owl? Sixth finger? Unusual freckles or birthmarks?"
"Be nice this afternoon and you can check me over later."
They share a smile, then Mulder walks to the stairs. "Hey! Captain Jack! Where'd you bury the chest of vampire fangs?"
William rattles his sword at the mirror. "In your nightstand drawer. Savvy?"
"Savvy."
****
They park the car behind William's school and get out. Scully is wearing scrubs, a stethoscope, and a pointed black witch's hat. Mulder is resplendent as an old Hollywood vampire. William dashes across the lot, disappearing among a cluster of small children who are hovering near the cotton candy machine.
Mulder opens and closes his mouth experimentally, the fanged caps on his incisors staying put as he runs his tongue over them. "I vant to trink your blud," he says in a rumbly voice, swooping his cape around Scully.
"If you do, be quick about it. I'm supposed to be manning the duck pond for an hour and they'll need to find a replacement."
"I find your community spirit endearing," he confesses as they make their way to the bake sale table behind the moon bounce. "It's very suburban of you."
"I think it takes the emphasis off the fact that we're living in sin," she replies dryly.
"Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live," he tells her, unloading bags of cookies. "I may be obligated by scripture to drain your life's blood after all. Cut back on my sinning. Hello, Olivia," he says to the attractive blonde woman counting the bills in the cash box. "How's tricks?"
"Can't complain," she replies. "Though you'd think with the tuition they charge, I wouldn't need to be out here hawking cookies like an overgrown Girl Scout."
"I bet you'd look cute in the uniform," Mulder tells her, licking his fangs.
Olivia laughs. "I'd tell you to keep your eye on him, Dana, if it weren't so obviously unnecessary. And where's that other handsome man of yours? I heard all about his costume. I wanted to see it."
"He's right over there," Scully says, pointing towards the group of kids now eating wads of pink fluff.
Olivia stands and squints. "I don't see any pirates. Has he got a hat?"
"Of course. And he's wearing a -" Mulder stops. "Scully, he's not there."
They hurry to where William was standing only a minute ago. "Shivani? Max? Any of you guys know where Will went?"
Shivani, dressed like Hermione Granger, points her wand towards the parking lot. "He went with Mr. Ellsworth."
"The headmaster? Why?"
"He said he needed a pirate helper to get some treasure out of his trunk. Do you want a chocolate frog?"
Mulder politely declines, scanning the parking lot for Mr. Ellsworth's car. It is in the usual spot, but no one is nearby. He fights the rising panic. "Shivani, was Mr. Ellsworth wearing a costume today?"
She nods. "He was a clown."
His face was covered in makeup, Mulder thinks. He could have been anyone. Scully tosses her hat off as they run to Mr. Ellsworth's car, which is locked, and Mulder smashes the window open with a rock. He reaches in and pops the trunk. He hears Scully gasp.
He joins her at the back of the car to peer down at Jonathan Ellsworth, who is bound, gagged, and unconscious. His face is covered with clown makeup but he is otherwise naked. Scully checks his pulse with trembling fingers.
"He's alive. Mulder, what the hell is going on?" she asks, pulling out her phone to call the FBI's Child Abduction Rapid Deployment team.
Mulder dashes through the parking lot, calling William's name, while Scully tells the agent on the phone to hurry up NOW because she is the ASAC of the DC Field Office and this is her kid and do not fuck with her thankyouverymuch goodbye.
She runs after Mulder and grabs his sleeve when she catches up. "What do we do?" she asks. "I don't know what we're supposed to do when we're on the other side."
Mulder, who is breathless and feeling slightly hysterical, tells her that they should stay calm and rational and wait for the CARD team and the police and whoever else is showing up to show up. An odd look crosses Scully's face. She staggers backwards, then sits down on the pavement. "Mulder, get the car."
"What? Scully what's wrong?"
"I think I can find him. Just get the car."
He asks no more questions, but runs to get the car and pulls it up next to her. She gets shakily to her feet and climbs in. "He sees Disney World," she says, shutting the door. "Through the trees."
"What? Disney World?"
"He doesn't have another name for it." She sounds frantic.
Mulder slams his fist against the steering wheel in frustration.
"The Mormon Temple," he says suddenly, laying eight feet of rubber as he takes Q Street to MacArthur. "That looks kind of like Disney World. What else, Scully?"
She closes her eyes, tapping her fingers frantically. "He's in a white van. A big one, like when the painters came. There's nothing written on the outside though. It hasn't got any windows on the sides, but there's a…he doesn't know what it's called - I think he means grate - over the window on the rear door. Anyway, he can see out a little from there."
Scully's phone rings, making them both jump. She passes it to Mulder, who doesn't have time to say hello before Skinner starts talking. "Scully, what the hell is going on? I heard the CARD team has been dispatched to William's school and that -"
"Someone's got William."
"I'm in my car on my way there now. Stay put, Mulder, because if you -"
"We're on Nebraska Avenue."
"What do you mean? What are you doing?"
"I don't have time to explain right now, but William's in an unmarked white van somewhere near the Mormon Temple. You need to put an APB out for it now. I'll call you as soon as I learn anything else." Mulder listens for another moment before hanging up the phone. He turns to Scully. "He's coming at this guy with everything he's got. Two helicopters plus ground coverage. What else do you see?"
She closes her eyes and, after a moment, she speaks. "They're driving under another road. A bridge. There are lots of other cars. They're going fast." She opens her eyes again. "495 eastbound, just before 97. Tell Skinner to shut it down now."
Mulder calls Skinner back, relaying Scully's information as he navigates through the familiar streets, all of them now looking alien and hostile. He feels each minute tick like an eternity. Unable to stand it any longer, he runs a red light on Connecticut Avenue. It almost causes a four-car pileup and he swerves around the other drivers. They honk at him angrily, but he scarcely notices. He goes against traffic in the Chevy Chase Circle - nearly up on two wheels at one point - tires squealing as he hits the on-ramp for 495. The cars are all at a standstill, however. He and Scully leap from their vehicle and run along the shoulder. Scully has her badge out.
Two helicopters hover like dragons above the roadway. Cars are clogging the lanes and FBI agents and police officers are going from driver to driver.
"STOP!" one of the officers shouts at Mulder and Scully. "You! Stop now!"
They freeze, Scully holding up her badge a little higher. "That's our son you're looking for!" she shouts. "Where's Deputy Director Skinner?"
Skinner runs over before the woman can reply. "Scully!" he shouts. "What's going on?"
"Have you found him?"
"Not yet, but if he was on 495, he can't get anywhere. We've got choppers surveying from the air if he tries to escape on foot. How do you know he's here?"
Mulder comes up from behind. He touches her shoulder. "What do you see?"
She closes her eyes and shakes her head. "He's still in the van. He hears the door open. The helicopters, he -" She opens her eyes. "He can hear the helicopters, Mulder. He must be here somewhere. He must be here." She whirls around, searching for a white van in the sea of cars.
Skinner looks briefly confused, but the years have taught him which questions are worth asking. "Scully, there's nowhere he can go. If this man is escaping from the vehicle, we'll find him."
"What if he plans to kill William and then himself?" she asks. "You know there's plenty of precedent for it, and we don't know anything about the kidnapper's MO."
Skinner opens his mouth to speak, but the words are swallowed up by a voice over the PA system of the further helicopter.
"THIS IS THE FBI - STOP! PUT YOUR HANDS UP! YOU ARE SURROUNDED. I REPEAT, STOP AND PUT YOUR HANDS UP!"
Mulder, Scully, and Skinner race towards the aircraft, along with the law enforcement officials. By the edge of the woods flanking the roadway is a man in jeans and a sweatshirt, slight traces of clown makeup still evident on his face. His hands are up, but he doesn't look particularly agitated.
Scully pulls her gun from her ankle holster and points it at him. "Andrew Strauth," she spits. "How's your piece of shit brother enjoying federal prison?"
"He thinks about you all the time," says the man laconically. "Real nice little boy you have, Agent Scully."
Scully's finger slides towards the trigger.
Skinner moves beside her. "Scully, put the gun down. We've got him. Put the gun down and go get your son."
"No. Mulder, go get William."
Mulder goes to the van. He climbs inside, emerging a moment later with William, who is crying and has black tears running down his cheeks from the pirate makeup. Mulder shields his son's face as he walks back down the road to their car.
"Scully, put the goddamned gun down," Skinner hisses in her ear.
She does, finally, and steps closer to watch the officers cuff the man on the hood of his van. "You better pray they never let you out," she informs him flatly. She walks after Mulder and William.
****
June 4, 2008
"Is Hobbes a real tiger or a pretend tiger?" William wants to know as they close the book.
"What do you think?" his mother says, stretching out on top of the comforter.
"I think he's a real tiger. It's better that way."
"I think so too," Scully agrees. She smoothes her hand over his hair.
"Bad people can't get out of jail, can they?" he asks her.
Yes, baby, they can. Can and do every damned day of my life.
"No," she lies.
"Sometimes I still have bad dreams," he mumbles.
"Me too." She bumps her forehead against his. "What do you think we should do about it?"
William considers this. "We could think about not-scary things. And we could give each other our ideas and make good dreams for each other."
"I like that idea." She swirls her fingers through her hair, pretending to pull something invisible from her head. She rubs it into William's scalp. "Here," she says. "These are good dreams about a little boy and his friend the tiger. And they build a duplicator out of a cardboard box and build funny snowmen and have adventures in their wagon."
William grins and pulls dreams from his own head, pressing them to hers. "These are good dreams about a boy who bakes his mom a cake and it looks like a dinosaur and it's really full of four kinds of chocolate and they drive in a fire truck to the moon with Dad and there's giraffes there and they all eat the cake and have a party for a hundred years and nobody gets tired."
Scully laughs. "That's a great dream. I can't wait to have it."
They curl close to each other, breathing deeply, until they drift to sleep. When Mulder finds them, he gets the camera, shuts off the sound, and takes a dozen pictures.
****
Part 4