Comments, complaints and just plain talk to sheryl_martin@tvo.org
This here isn't much of a story... like that's something new. I just felt like exploring two characters who really are very important to the show but get little air time...
Two Mothersby Sheryl Martin
She sat in the old rocking chair; feeling the wooden floorboards creak under the runners as she rocked back and forth in front of the fire. It had been a rough night; filled with bad dreams and sad thoughts racing across her mind.
Of all her children she had always had a special place for her two daughters. Probably every mother did; as her her husband had prided himself on their sons they had raised.
But one was gone now. And the other... Her eyes drifted to a picture on the mantle above the fireplace, sitting along the other older frames. She had almost been lost to them - but she had come back to her mother. And to her partner.
Mrs. Scully smiled sadly. Fox Mulder. The first time they had met was at Dana's place; his eyes painfully watching her as the words choked in his throat. For a split second she had wondered if Dana hadn't wanted to tell her about this relationship; that there was much more to it than the professional work that she had told her mother about. But then, Dana had always been the stubborn one. Like her father.
Melissa had taken after her mother; delighting more in the gentler things of life. Though being married to a Navy man had been trying at times, her older daughter had always been there to help out when Bill was gone. While Dana brawled with the boys in the fields behind the house, coming home covered with mud and dirt.
A piece of wood snapped in the fire; sending a burst of sparks up the chimney. Pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulder, Margaret took a sip of the hot tea.
Then Missy had gotten into this New Age stuff - not surprising, given her open mindedness. She had always been much more of a quiet, deep thinker than the rest of her clan; pressing leaves and reading philosophy books instead of the usual hobbies. The fights between her and Dana when they disagreed over something were almost comedic to watch.
She felt the edges of her mouth turn up at the memory. One time she had found them literally wrestling on the floor of Dana's bedroom; Missy pinned to the ground by the younger but stronger sister.
"But, Mom..." The red-haired girl had protested. "Missy said I'm going to be rein... carted as a slug!"
"A big, slimy, smelly slug." The older sister helpfully added.
"I don't want to be a slug! I want to help people!" Dana pouted. Shaking her head, she had sent the two girls on their way, after consoling her youngest daughter that she wasn't in any danger of waking up the next morning as a lower life form. And after having a talk with Melissa over scaring those younger than her with such talk.
Not that religion had no place in the family. Dana had always worn that cross despite stopping going to church; despite her insistence of scientific theory explaining everything away. And in the hospital, when she had come back to them; her eyes had held a new, thoughtful depth. One of belief; of some sort of knowledge. And Fox sitting there during her stay, day after day, dutifully playing a combination of big brother, partner and something else that they both refused to acknowledge. He claimed to be not much better than Dana in matters of faith, but she could see it in his eyes; the power of his beliefs. And you had to respect someone like that.
She had always respected their decisions. Even when she didn't like them.
"I'm going to join the FBI." She held her breath, staring at her parents. It had been a long, worrying trip home from school to tell them.
"What?" Margaret had almost dropped her mug of tea. Bill had just frowned. "But your medical studies..."
"I'm still going to be a doctor. But I'm going to work for the government."
"Why?" Bill put the paper down on the table, staring at her.
"Because they offered me a position. And I want to do something for my country..." Dana looked at her father, the need for approval evident in her eyes. "Dad?"
His face was a stony mask. "Why not join the Service then?" He picked up the paper again, avoiding her gaze. "Not that I want any daughter of mine going into any war zone..."
Tears streaming down her face, the young woman left the room in silence. They hadn't ever spoken of it again; though they had attended the graduation ceremonies at Quantico. She looked into the fire again. She hadn't been able to tell her then, or even now, about her greatest fear. A fear that had come true and devoured her family slowly.
The Cause.
The feeling in the pit of her stomach when she had said goodbye to Bill when he had sailed for Cuba; that tearful parting when he had complained and swore and still gotten on that ship to leave for the Cause.
And he had returned, and they had started their family as promised; both boys and girls like she had prayed for. And they were all healthy and happy and safe.
But now Melissa was dead. For the Cause. And Dana had almost died. For the Cause.
But somehow it had all changed over the years; mutated into something she couldn't recognise. Dana had tried to explain it to her; stumbling over the words and theories and thoughts she couldn't tell for security reasons as she sat in front of the fire weeping over the loss of Fox Mulder. And even though he had come back to them; the Cause was so different from what it had been in her day that she was scared to even try to understand.
So she sat, rocking by the fire, and thought about her grandchildren and what Dana's sons and daughters would look like. Then she prayed for all of her children, like she did every night; including Melissa. And Fox Mulder.
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She sat staring at the television screen, the blue light the only thing moving in the dark room. It had been a long and lonely night; her mind tearing itself apart in nightmares again.
When she had married Bill Mulder she had known he was working for the State Department; known there were some things he couldn't tell her about. Security, you know. The Cold War was on, and you never knew when the Russians were going to drop the bomb on them.
Then Fox was born. A happy, carefree boy who they had named after Bill and who was so smart that his teachers used to be annoyed at the speed at which he did his homework. And Bill was so proud of him. Of his son. And she had been happy to do her part for the family; carrying on the name. Samantha had been her own pride and joy; her own bit of happiness. She had doted something awful on her single daughter; spoiling her as much as Bill did Fox. After all, they did have the perfect family. One boy, one girl. A nice house, and a stable government job. What more could you ask for?
Of course the kids fought. They had to; it was part of being brother and sister. One time she had caught Fox practically sitting atop Sam; pinching her until she was screaming.
"Fox..." She had admonished him, trying not to smile. Samantha had kicked him hard in the shins, and he was limping. "You're older. You should know better."
"Why?" Always the questions...
"Because you're a man. And gentlemen don't hit ladies. They take care of them; protect them." He had stared at her for a minute; his eyes dark and confused. Finally he had nodded in agreement, and left to watch television.
Then one night, Bill had rolled over in the darkness and held her tight. She knew that he wanted to talk. Inside she felt better - these last few months he had seemed so stressed over this latest assignment; so distant from her and the children. But that was to be expected, with the work he did. Whatever it was. But it was to protect the country, she was sure of that.
"If..." His voice cracked. A whisper came from his lips, next to her ear. "If you had to choose one of our children to keep, who would it be?"
And her heart froze when she realised it wasn't a hypothetical question.
Pushing him away, she sat up in the dark bed. "What?"
"Fox and Samantha... if you had to give one of them away, who would it be?" She looked at the dark shadow lying beside her.
"Don't ever ask me that..." Turning on her side, she closed her eyes tightly and forced the tears back. "I can't... I'm their mother."
He had rolled away from her. And they had never spoken of it again.
Then that night, coming back from a rare evening out to find Fox screaming at the top of his lungs and the police racing through the house. And he had looked at her, and she had known. He had chosen for her.
The police and the FBI were polite and thoughtful; but even as she recited the answers to their questions a part of her was dying. He couldn't have... And their son, standing in the middle of the room, protesting his part in the disappearance with the accusing stares of everyone, including her husband, on him.
And she had died, as surely as if a bullet had pierced her heart.
The divorce had been easy; Bill quietly agreeing to support her and moving away. Fox, already at Oxford by this time, standing there and shrugging his shoulders in mute acceptance of their decision.
"I'm joining the FBI anyway." He had dropped in the middle of the conversation. Bill had looked up from his drink. She had bitten down on her lip.
"Why?" His grating voice filled the air. Fox had tensed, flinching from the verbal punch.
"Because they want me. And I want to do something... help people... maybe..." His eyes went to his mother for support. And she knew what he was searching for. Her throat went dry as she nodded. Bill had only coughed from his cigarette and walked out of the room. Sighing, Fox had left too, heading back to university the next day.
She had followed his career closely, listened to him when he made the obligatory visits and smiled when he blushed and refused to talk about the woman he worked with. All the time she knew that one day he would find out that she knew, and she was scared and guilty.
Then Samantha had come back to them. She had leapt at the chance that her baby had finally come home; that Bill had convinced them to give her back and let them become a family again. But she had left again... Fox standing there at the table, shuffling his feet back and forth on the floor as he tried not to cry; mumbling to her. And she knew that it wasn't really Sam; that they hadn't sent her back. But she couldn't tell her son what she knew; the words sticking in her throat and burning her stomach.
The policeman at the door said that Bill was dead. Maybe by his son's hand. For a long, sad second she had almost smiled; thinking that maybe it was best this way. But she had lost her son to the Cause; the same dammed thing her husband had sacrificed himself, their daughter and their marriage to.
At the funeral his partner had told her that she knew he was alive. And when he had appeared at the house, she had dreaded his questions; knowing that the truth was coming out after all these years and that he wouldn't understand why or how she did what she did. But you supported the Cause, back then. The Russians were the bad guys and you had to do what you could for the country. Back then it was so much simpler...
In the middle of the night, he had come to her bedside; asking for the answer. For a long second of misery he had reminded her of Bill; in the same bed in the darkness asking the Question. And she had told him what he wanted to know, watching him leave in a confused rage. Turning over, she sobbed into her pillow, cursing her husband all the way to hell and back. The front door closed behind her son, who had now taken it upon himself to try and undo his father's legacy. And she knew she had finally lost him as well to the Cause.
The static filled the screen, making her jump. Turning the set off, she climbed back into the large bed and reached for the sleeping pills. Putting her head down on the pillow, she prayed for sleep and for no dreams. And for her children. Both of them.
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