I fell off of the wagon with "Time", and I greatly apologize for that! I still plan to finish it. But there was a new plot (or beginning of one) that jumped into my head and so I figured I'd get it out on paper
None of the characters belong to me. Don't sue me. It's all for fun, not profit.
It had been 16 hours. 16 hours and absolutely no progress had been made. Fox Mulder could see that it was bothering her, that there was fear etched into her veins. The fears she'd had for years were now becoming truth. Dana Scully sat with the book in her hand, but had not turned the page for a good 45 minutes now. Mulder was lying on the couch with a basketball game on, hoping he could drown out his thoughts with the volume. However, the words "You are NOT my mother! And he is NOT my father! I do not want to be here, I don't want to talk to you, and I don't want you to talk to me!" continue to ring through his head, followed by a slam of the upstairs room that would soon be furnished with a bed, and other belongings for their lost son. After those words were screamed, he could almost visibly see the bright, ceramic doll Scully had become after finding their son, shatter into pieces.
"Mulder," it was so quiet he almost didn't hear it. He glanced over at her. She never looked small in the recliner, until now. She shut the book. "What are we supposed to do?"
He sat up and rubbed his face. "I'd say we pop a cork and celebrate getting the first fight out with our pre-pubescent child," he glanced over at her. Her expression did not change. "Look, Scully, he's probably just having a hard time adjusting. His whole life changed, and he went from one person he thought he'd live forever with to two people who are telling him the same thing," He took a deep breath. "Don't let it bother you too much. He's acting out of anger and betrayal."
At those words she glanced out the window. After a good two minutes, she turned back to him. "I am finding it hard to believe you are saying those words, that you believe them. Or that you expect me to believe them. Mulder, I've spent the last seven years thinking about what I could have done, or what could have been, with my son, our son. I can't just-"
"I really hope you're not implying that I haven't suffered from this, either," he said pointedly.
"No," she lowered her voice again and looked back out the window. "I didn't mean that. But Mulder, didn't you expect it to be different?" She looked back at him, tears in her eyes, trying desperately not to let them fall.
"Of course I did," he stood and walked behind her, gently massaging her shoulders. "But right now I am starting to wonder why it is so quiet upstairs," he said and glanced toward the stairs, continuing his ministrations with his hands. She looked up at him then up at the stairs, her pain becoming worry. She stood up and started toward the stairs. He followed her quick steps, and when they opened the door to what was supposed to be William's room, he wasn't there.
"Mul—" She was interrupted with a "Shhhh" and his finger on his lips. He then pointed toward their room. Their door was open, as usual, but the boy with his father's brown hair and his mothers bright green eyes was passed out on their bed, clutching the only thing he'd had since he could remember: his blue baby blanket his birth mother had given to him just after he was born.
Scully's jaw dropped and she covered her mouth with her hand, and turned into Mulder when he pulled her to him. She finally let the tears silently fall.