Title: Come Fly With Me
Author: gillovny-confessions
Pairing: Mulder/Scully
Rating: PG, for mild sensuality
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of Chris Carter (damn it). No infringement intended and I own nothing here.
Summary: A reimagining of Mulder's moments with William at the end of "Founder's Mutation." (Feedback is welcomed and appreciated!)
The wooden picnic table was smaller than he remembered.
Mulder sat perched atop it, his shoulders hunched and eyes raised to a glowing, orange horizon, holding a small model rocket in his hands.
It was the same rocket he'd held as a little boy, bought with several months' worth of saved allowance money in the exhilarating days of Apollo and Walter Cronkite soberly narrating man's first trip to the moon. He hadn't played with it in years, having left it in the careful storage of Teena Mulder's basement, the bittersweet moment of its unearthing happening when he was going through the house in the wake of her death.
William would like this rocket.
"I would've showed him how to play with it."
Scully, who had been standing beside him, peered over his shoulder at the rocket. Her blazer pocket echoed the vibrations from Mulder's call, so quickly had she come to meet him after he half-mumbled a location at her and hung up.
He didn't have to turn around to know that she was there.
"I would have shown him how to build things and send them off into the sky."
Scully had imagined a life with William more times than she could count. Dreams and nightmares of what the future could hold for him, and for her, bled together, sometimes one beginning where the other ended. Yet she'd been reluctant to share them with Mulder, not knowing—or perhaps not wanting to know—if he'd imagined the same thing.
Mulder's finger traced up and down the rocket. He wanted to tell Scully the rest, what he'd kept to himself for so long, not wanting to mention William for fear of inadvertently forcing her to relive painful memories. Scully had been through so much, had given birth to and given up her child that she'd wanted more than anything.
Not just her child, Mulder realized when he saw her holding William that first night. Theirchild.
"We'd take him to our summer house, Scully."
She is surprised to hear this, knowing how aversive such places have become to him. He continues, answering the question she didn't ask.
"Someplace bright, airy. Maybe out on the Cape, near the water and the stars. Nothing like Quonochotaug."
Not full of shadows and secrets, things that had plagued the Mulder name for far too long.
It had big windows, bordered on either side by dark blue walls, so that you couldn't tell where the sky ended. William's room was just down the hall from his parents', and Scully sometimes got up in the middle of the night just to watch him sleeping.
She's read to him since he was born, stories from the Bible and William's own favorite fairy tales, in equal measure. The bookshelf is overflowing, with a few toys scattered across the floor instead of tucked away in William's toy chest. His bed is neatly made, in stark contrast to the half-beaten pillow at the top.
The old rocking chair—Mulder thinks it was his mother's, but can't be sure—is next to the window, and Scully sits in it with five-year-old William in her lap, his reddish blond hair tickling her chin as she reads to him:
"'Queequeg was a native of Rokovoko, an island far away to the West and South. It is not down in any map; true places never are.'"
The window is open slightly, and the sound of seagulls cawing outside wafts in, joining a chorus of waves gently rushing back and forth over the shore. Mulder stands in the doorway with his arms crossed, a small smile turning up the corners of his mouth as he watches his wife and son together, the gulls and sea and Scully's voice flowing together like music curling in his ears.
William's untied shoelaces sway from side to side as he wiggles on his mother's lap, and he presses a finger against the page, following the words. Scully hugs the boy closer and changes voices for another character in the book, the vibrations from William's responding laugh echoing through her.
"Mulder…?"
Scully tiptoes down the hallway, pulling the robe around her tightly. She'd been expecting him to come to bed by midnight, and a look in William's room revealed that he wasn't asleep, either.
"Wow, Dad! Check this out!"
Scully breathes a sigh of relief, even as that one instant of worrying that something had happened to William seemed to stretch out into a lifetime.
She can tell that it's low tide, the night air warm and tinged with the smell of sulfur. Mulder and William are barefoot on the wooden deck, the older of the two kneeling to look through the telescope tilted upwards between them.
"Yeah, that's Sagittarius, all right. Well spotted, kid."
William had become fascinated with astronomy that year, learning all of the constellations and galaxies and planets–and, thanks to an almost giddy Mulder, the various alien species that potentially inhabited them. A telescope seemed like the perfect pre-seventh grade gift, giving William the entire summer before middle school to memorize the night sky.
Scully watches them for a few moments, admiring the broad expanse of Mulder's shoulders, and observing the continuing development of William's. He'd already begun to go through the changes of puberty–an increase in testosterone resulting in cracks and squeaks in his voice, the chubbiness on his face falling away to reveal a handsome jawline, and weekly growth spurts that left his jeans a size too small just after they'd bought them.
Everything that once fit together eventually breaks apart…
She clears her throat loudly at that moment, alerting them to her presence. William and Mulder turn to face her, their eyes downcast in apologetic puppy dog fashion almost in unison as she nods toward the house.
She stops them just as they are about to go in.
"Wipe your feet, both of you. No sand on the floor. Then you get to bed," Scully ruffles William's hair, raising her voice over his groan of protest. Mulder pouts forlornly at her from behind the boy, and she bites her lower lip to conceal a smile.
William does as instructed and traipses down the hall to his room, the lock clicking shut behind him.
"Mulder!" Scully whisper-scolds, shutting the back door and playfully slapping his chest. "You know better than to keep him up so far past his bedtime."
Mulder shrugs, one hand reaching for Scully's, intertwining their fingers.
"Sorry, Scully. One minute we were sitting on the beach talking Perseid meteor showers and the next thing you know, the telescope comes out and all hell breaks loose."
His palm is warm against hers, and already she's forgotten how to be angry with him.
"Yes, well…that's all right. I just don't want it to become a habit."
Mulder's focus is almost entirely on the heat radiating off her, and he barely manages to nod in response. He guides Scully gently until she is pressed against the back of the sofa, admiring her features cast in the faint moonlight coming through the window. Mulder wraps both his arms around her and pulls her close.
When he kisses her, it's always an answer, never a question.
Mulder's lips are soft, inviting without demanding. Scully returns the kiss, one hand pressed to the side of his face while the other slides up the back of his t-shirt. He pushes the top of her robe down, exposing one of her camisole straps, and slowly runs his thumb from the base of her neck to her shoulder.
Scully gasps at the sensation and the goosebumps left in his wake, shuddering against him. Mulder embraces the small of her back and holds her as he leans down into the kiss, both their mouths opening and tongues moving as the kiss deepens.
They come up for air a few moments later, Mulder gazing at Scully with a twinkle in his eye. He grins, pushing several strands of hair behind her ear.
"I don't remember what we were talking about. Do you?"
Scully doesn't answer, breathing heavily as she grips the hem of his shirt with both hands and pulls it over his head.
She rests her cheek against Mulder's chest, feeling it rise and fall with every breath. He seems to almost envelop her, one arm circled around her waist, holding her body flush against his. He kisses the top of Scully's head and closes his eyes.
Ba bum…ba bum…
Scully can hear Mulder's heart beating, the rhythm steady and even. Calming. He smells like the ocean air mixed with a faint musk, almost grass. She holds him tighter, inhaling his scent and sliding her hands across his back, into the hollow between his shoulder blades.
He is here. He is with me. Together.
A bird calls, too loud and bright for the dark, and the damp earth is beckoning, lying indented under her feet. Scully doesn't listen, instead focusing on the low hum coming from Mulder's chest.
William…
The sound of his laugh is slowly fading away.
No, he's in his room. Scully shuts her eyes, pretending not to notice the tears at the corner. He is in their summer house with them. Together. A family.
She wants to believe. She has to believe.
The humming is louder now, too near to ignore, and it's only then that she realizes Mulder is still speaking.
"…teaching him the stars. Just the three of us, in that perfect place. Maybe I'd forget to feed him his vegetables sometimes, but that's why you're there. To do all the things I can't."
Mulder pauses to stare down at the patch of grass in front of the bench. He swallows hard.
"It would be everything we ever wanted, Scully."
She opens her eyes again and sees his long fingers curled around hers. She squeezes his hand lovingly, her own throat too choked with tears to respond.
An evening breeze kicks up around them, ghosting over the old model rocket now lying on the table next to Mulder, its broken fin flapping gently in the wind.