Disclaimer: Is this really necessary? We all know I didn't come up with the
idea…though I wish to God I did; I'd be rich!
Chapter 1: Like Father, Like Son
"No! No! No!" cried the young boy, a hint of laughter in his voice. "You're going the wrong way!" He watched as his five-year-old sister, who was running towards third base instead of first, suddenly stopped, confused. "First base is that way, silly," he gently corrected.
One thing he couldn't understand is how anyone could not like his or her siblings. He absolutely adored his sister. And it wasn't because he's only two years older than her, like his grandmother believed. After all, she's smart, caring, and not to mention funny. Why would he want to argue with her? Besides, he thought with an inward grin, she always wins anyway.
"Sorry," she said when she reached him, her head bowed in shame.
"It's okay, Samantha." She kept her head down. William sighed; he was never going to get to bat. "You wanna try it again?" She raised her head and vigorously nodded, a smile melting across her features. "Alright, then." William smiled as well. "Okay, go get the bat, and this time, run that way." He pointed towards the kitchen window of the two-story house they lived in, in front of which, sat a small piece of wood, a.k.a., first base.
When he glanced in the direction of his outstretched arm, he saw his mother smiling at him through the glass, the sunlight illuminating her hair and adding to her natural glow. Hesitantly, she turned back into the kitchen to finish supper, no doubt. William's gaze remained fixed on the place she was standing even after she disappeared into the shadows, wondering what name they would come up with this time.
"William! Come on!" cried Samantha, pulling him from his thoughts. He glanced back to the window once more, remembering when Samantha was born, though the memories were now were few and far between. She was a beautiful baby, named after their father's sister. He had heard many stories of how his dad, when he was his age, had often played baseball with his sister. But that was before she disappeared. She had died at age fourteen, he knew, although the events surrounding her death were never revealed to him.
He turned to face Samantha and had to resist the urge to laugh. For there she stood, leaning on the bat, tapping her foot impatiently, a look of pure annoyance on her face. A trick she probably picked up from their dad.
Smiling slightly, he walked forward, picked up the white baseball, positioned his fingers along the red stitching, and pitched her the ball, just as his father had taught him.
* * *
After a long day at work, Fox Mulder was finally on his way home. It had been another day for "catching up" as his partner John Doggett had called it. But Fox preferred not to sugar coat it. It was paperwork, plain and simple.
Of course, John had been enthusiastic about it. That's just the way he was. You could tell him about a new case and within ten minutes he'd be packed and ready to go. In Fox's eyes, he was way too eager.
Although, similar things could be said about Fox, who back at the academy, had the nickname "Spooky." His colleagues used to tease him saying that he could find a conspiracy in a church picnic. To which he always replied: "Which church?"
And then there was Dana, Fox's wife of nearly seven years. She was the glue that held the pieces together for the X-Files. It was her scientific explanation for everything that has allowed it to stay open for so long. She's smart and more open minded than she was when she first began the job. And beautiful, Fox thought. Not that it mattered much to the X-Files, but it was always worth mentioning.
Together, the three agents made up the X-Files, despite the fact that there are usually only two people in a partnership, especially when two of them are married to each other. But the new director of the FBI, Walter Skinner, insisted that it had to be so. Of course, this took a little persuasion, but eventually, the "partnership" was formed.
Almost home, Fox thought, as he pulled into his neighborhood, careful to slow his speed for the children that often played in the streets. He waved to a blonde boy he recognized as William's friend, before pulling into his driveway. He smiled when he saw the baseball equipment on the front lawn, and wished he could have been here to play with his children.
He sighed. It felt good to be home.
* * *
Dana quietly paced around the kitchen. He was late. He's never late. Dinner was almost ready; he should have been there by now. "Where are you?" she asked, not expecting an answer, but to try to release the tension she was feeling.
It didn't work.
She glanced at the clock for what must have been the thousandth time that day. 6:54. He definitely should have been there by then.
The sudden beeping of the oven timer interrupted her thoughts. After checking to see if it was done, she pulled the meat out of the oven, and went to get William and Samantha, which was always easier said than done.
"Come on, time to come in!" she called to them. Naturally, they protested. Dana could've easily blamed their father for it; after all, he was the one that got them interested in the game. But instead, she simply focused on the task at hand- getting William and Samantha in the house.
Ok, so what do you think? Good? Bad? Whatever's fine, just let me know.
Chapter 1: Like Father, Like Son
"No! No! No!" cried the young boy, a hint of laughter in his voice. "You're going the wrong way!" He watched as his five-year-old sister, who was running towards third base instead of first, suddenly stopped, confused. "First base is that way, silly," he gently corrected.
One thing he couldn't understand is how anyone could not like his or her siblings. He absolutely adored his sister. And it wasn't because he's only two years older than her, like his grandmother believed. After all, she's smart, caring, and not to mention funny. Why would he want to argue with her? Besides, he thought with an inward grin, she always wins anyway.
"Sorry," she said when she reached him, her head bowed in shame.
"It's okay, Samantha." She kept her head down. William sighed; he was never going to get to bat. "You wanna try it again?" She raised her head and vigorously nodded, a smile melting across her features. "Alright, then." William smiled as well. "Okay, go get the bat, and this time, run that way." He pointed towards the kitchen window of the two-story house they lived in, in front of which, sat a small piece of wood, a.k.a., first base.
When he glanced in the direction of his outstretched arm, he saw his mother smiling at him through the glass, the sunlight illuminating her hair and adding to her natural glow. Hesitantly, she turned back into the kitchen to finish supper, no doubt. William's gaze remained fixed on the place she was standing even after she disappeared into the shadows, wondering what name they would come up with this time.
"William! Come on!" cried Samantha, pulling him from his thoughts. He glanced back to the window once more, remembering when Samantha was born, though the memories were now were few and far between. She was a beautiful baby, named after their father's sister. He had heard many stories of how his dad, when he was his age, had often played baseball with his sister. But that was before she disappeared. She had died at age fourteen, he knew, although the events surrounding her death were never revealed to him.
He turned to face Samantha and had to resist the urge to laugh. For there she stood, leaning on the bat, tapping her foot impatiently, a look of pure annoyance on her face. A trick she probably picked up from their dad.
Smiling slightly, he walked forward, picked up the white baseball, positioned his fingers along the red stitching, and pitched her the ball, just as his father had taught him.
* * *
After a long day at work, Fox Mulder was finally on his way home. It had been another day for "catching up" as his partner John Doggett had called it. But Fox preferred not to sugar coat it. It was paperwork, plain and simple.
Of course, John had been enthusiastic about it. That's just the way he was. You could tell him about a new case and within ten minutes he'd be packed and ready to go. In Fox's eyes, he was way too eager.
Although, similar things could be said about Fox, who back at the academy, had the nickname "Spooky." His colleagues used to tease him saying that he could find a conspiracy in a church picnic. To which he always replied: "Which church?"
And then there was Dana, Fox's wife of nearly seven years. She was the glue that held the pieces together for the X-Files. It was her scientific explanation for everything that has allowed it to stay open for so long. She's smart and more open minded than she was when she first began the job. And beautiful, Fox thought. Not that it mattered much to the X-Files, but it was always worth mentioning.
Together, the three agents made up the X-Files, despite the fact that there are usually only two people in a partnership, especially when two of them are married to each other. But the new director of the FBI, Walter Skinner, insisted that it had to be so. Of course, this took a little persuasion, but eventually, the "partnership" was formed.
Almost home, Fox thought, as he pulled into his neighborhood, careful to slow his speed for the children that often played in the streets. He waved to a blonde boy he recognized as William's friend, before pulling into his driveway. He smiled when he saw the baseball equipment on the front lawn, and wished he could have been here to play with his children.
He sighed. It felt good to be home.
* * *
Dana quietly paced around the kitchen. He was late. He's never late. Dinner was almost ready; he should have been there by now. "Where are you?" she asked, not expecting an answer, but to try to release the tension she was feeling.
It didn't work.
She glanced at the clock for what must have been the thousandth time that day. 6:54. He definitely should have been there by then.
The sudden beeping of the oven timer interrupted her thoughts. After checking to see if it was done, she pulled the meat out of the oven, and went to get William and Samantha, which was always easier said than done.
"Come on, time to come in!" she called to them. Naturally, they protested. Dana could've easily blamed their father for it; after all, he was the one that got them interested in the game. But instead, she simply focused on the task at hand- getting William and Samantha in the house.
Ok, so what do you think? Good? Bad? Whatever's fine, just let me know.