A/N:I don't own anything. This is a AU piece. It takes place after IWTB and doesn't follow the new canon of the comic book. This storyline assumes that once Mulder was no longer a wanted fugitive, they were able to get their son back (Chris Carter, I'm glaring at you). This has been sitting on my computer since last October and I couldn't let it sit any longer. I saw the movie 'Closure' or 'Straightheads' and Gillian Anderson's performance was too good to go to waste, so this story is inspired by that, but takes a different perspective. This will focus more on the relationship of Mulder and Scully and those around them, including their son. This Chapter is rated for teens, but the chapters following it will be very graphic and rated 'M'

Closure: Wounded

Her eyes shift to the left, to look at him before staring at the road once again from the passenger's seat, then drifting out the window. She was frustrated with him. She was frustrated with herself. A deep sign pushed through her chest, and while she had every right to be angry, he made it so difficult sometimes. He tried to lighten the mood when they first reached the car, muttering something about her tiny feet. She'd been up all day and night, and really, she should appreciate his gesture to drive. She couldn't let go of her annoyance, of the reoccurring realization that nothing had changed. He didn't want to stop the car and get out; he never did, despite offering the solution to her. They'd argued over it, very recently, but it seems like a distant memory of someone else's' life. She couldn't ask him to give up. But she thought that now, of all times, they had an agreement; that things would be different.

Turning her head, she looks to the backseat where their child is safely buckled in his booster seat. She mourns the loss of seeing him in a car seat, a stroller, a toddler seat, but the booster does just fine. Next year, he's likely not to need one at all, inheriting Mulder's long limbs. She looks forward to the memories she hasn't deprived her partner of: teaching him to shoot, taking him to elementary school, making a volcano with baking soda. Watching the Yankees.

Her son is a handsome boy. She'll have to watch out when he gets into high school. His head is dropped and his eyes are closed gently in slumber, his breaths even. From all of the dancing and excitement at'Mr. Skinman's' Retirement Party, she isn't surprised that he's fallen asleep. It didn't hurt that it was past midnight. She closes her eyes in deep concentration.

"Scully," he's out of breath, running into the building and fixing his bowtie. She's walking past him and out the door when he reaches her. The party is over. He missed it. A woman is sweeping confetti from the floor while another collects the plates. William is draped over her shoulder as she attempts to walk quickly, not looking him in the eye. Her small form holds him close as if he's anchoring her to the Earth, his legs wrapped around her back and his head on her shoulder. He reaches his arms out to take him from her struggling form but she jerks away, continuing the walk in her 6 inch pumps, the beautiful dress swishing as she walked. He sighs dejectedly,trying to reason with her: "The case, it-"

"Let's just go home," and the conversation ended there. She opened the door, slid Will into his seat and sat in her own. When he makes a joke to lighten the mood she doesn't even give him a face, a reaction. She just stares forward.

When she turns back around after giving her son's knee a gentle squeeze, reassuring herself that he was real, she felt his eyes on her. She ignores him. Again.

He glanced at her as she stared straight ahead, silent. She was ignoring him. Would she wait until they got home to confront him? His attempt to lighten the mood failed, as he suspected it would. He couldn't even get a smile from her and he would be happy for any type, even the depreciating one where she tilted her head, crossed her arms and looked at him smugly. He wondered when she would pounce, knowing it wouldn't be in front of their son. Their son. After he came out of hiding William soon followed, sitting mysteriously in Skinner's office and waiting patiently for his parents to be called. Their boy with brown hair and clear blue eyes had lived with them for nearly two months. He'd never seen Scully look so radiant. She was made for motherhood, he observed, in the way she packed his nutritious lunches, and helped him with his reading list. He knew that this was hard on her, realizing all the time he'd deprived her from her son. He lifted her several times to their own bed, having found her slumped and unconscious, leaning on William's bed, holding his hand. She needed to make sure he was there- he knew her fears. They mirrored his own. Despite their current happiness, and they hadn't been happier since the first months of William's birth, he knew tonight would be trying. She wouldn't let him off the hook. She took an audible breath and confirmed his inner-deliberations. He couldn't wait any longer. He was never good at being patient.

"Listen, Scully-"

"I thought you weren't coming, Mulder," she said in a hushed voice, resuming their conversation from earlier.

"I told you I'd be there."

"He was waiting up all last night for you, and kept asking me where you were through the whole party. You can't keep leavin-"

"Scully." He paused briefly, looking in their mirror and eying the driver behind them. They didn't normally get people at this time of night around their way and his paranoia was climbing. Super soldiers? Men who weren't men? No, that was over-except it wasn't. It was never over. When it didn't come in a physical form it manifested itself through her fitted dreams, where her hair splayed across her face and her heart beat out of her chest.

His last case, the one that aided in stemming their current argument would certainly take place in his own dream vault, knew this last case already took its place in his own dream vault, ready to unveal itself excitingly like a Disney movie placed on the shelves again. 'Out of the vault,' they would say excitingly, producing a 'new and improved' version of Bambi or Cinderella whose hair was now two shades lighter thanks to the ever-improving technology. How would his recent case come out of the vault? How would his dreams manifest themselves tonight, after their argument? Would she be dying of cancer again, but this time also the mother of a child murdered in cold blood. No. He set his jaw briefly getting a glimpse of Emily lying in a mangled mess and watched as his inner Disney vault morphed the face of the last child murdered in his latest case. The nose became pronounced and familiar, and if he could see under the white film over the decaying eyes he would Scully's eyes. William. It could have been any child who fell victim to that monster, it could have been his son…his William.

He returned to the conversation bitter, looking her in the eyes as his hands gripped the steering wheel. "You talk like you're much better."

"Excuse me," she asks incredulously, her head tilting to the side and eyebrows pitched. By the look on her face, he's started something he may not be able to finish. He should stop here. He wasn't being fair but neither was she. "Mulder, you-"

"You see your patients more than our son, Scully." He sneered, turning the wheel on the winding road. The parents of the latest victim, Jared, had busy lives. Didn't even recognize their son was gone until both got home and argued over the carpool arrangements. That couldn't be them. He wouldn't lose his son again. He wouldn't lose her to her job, or to anything. The trees were passing by quickly as he accelerated. He's angry with the case. Angry that he couldn't save the boy. Angry that he waited nearly 6 years to get his son back. Angry at her. Angry at her. He goes in for the kill. "Do you think falling asleep on his bed makes up for the time you didn't spend with him" he whispers harshly, trying not to wake the him in the backseat.

"I-I-," she stutters, her cheeks quickly flustering. He'd clearly wounded her, but he was angry. Her hands clenched the silky black material of her dress, manicured fingers tightly coiling into fists. The gown she wore was beautiful, with a strap that slid across her chest, accentuating her cleavage. He was only 30 minutes late. That is, he only arrived 30 minutes after the party ended. Sure, he said he'd be home yesterday afternoon, but he arrived. Why was she constantly trying to change him? Using his absence as an excuse? He'd caught a murderer! He should have stopped there, but found the outcome of his previous case creeping into his consciousness and spoiling his mood completely? He liked to think he understood their relationship. He needed her, she needed him. She was needy.

I thought I'd lost you

She would never come out and say it but he could read between the lines just fine. Despite this accepted wisdom gained through years of trials and tribulations, he was angry. He felt like she was holding too close, then becoming suddenly volatile. Hell, nearly 8 months ago she threatened to leave him. She was constantly trying to make him choose. Why did he have to? She'd said she didn't want the darkness in her home. Did it count if it made itself a home in his mind?

"This constant fear of abandonment has to stop, Scully. I feel like I'm walking on eggshells." He refuses to meet her eyes as he delivers his speared words to her chest, against his better judgment. He wanted to hurt her. Misery did need company, didn't it? He wanted her to yell at him so he could yell back; get out his anger from this previous case and her job, and their son and everything. He hears her breath hitch in her throat and prepares for her barked response. Her words flowed cold out of her mouth, appearing to surprise herself as well. "Pull over, Mulder."

"Scully." She refused to look at him. "We're miles from home and it's freezing outside." He reasoned. His own words echo in his head 'Do you think falling asleep on his bed makes up for the time you didn't spend with him?' Shit. She thought he was blaming her for giving up their son. Shit. Shit. Shit. Was he? Shit. Shit. He glances over and sees unshed tears perched on her eyes. They needed to work this out. Suddenly his anger was gone and replaced with worry. With guilt that rips at his chest. He fears like he's hurt her for the last time.

It's why we can't be together.

He knew the words were echoing in her head. Over and Over. Why had he said that to her; to her of all people? She shuffles in the seat, anxious. She really wanted to get out and walk; in her 6 inch heels no less.

"Scully, I'm" he pauses, glancing in the rearview mirror. Were they being followed? He pushed the thought aside as simple paranoia. His attention snaps back to the face of his wife, his partner, unbelieving, when she crosses her arms over her chest and commands him in to accentuated words to: "Pull. Over."

Suddenly the car behind them began to tailgate, getting dangerously close to their bumper.

"What's this idiot doing?" He gestured to the mirror, pressing the accelerator with his foot. She momentarily forgot about her all out war on her partner and turned around to the car. They both jolted forward when the car behind the hit their bumper. Hard.

She turned quickly, taking a quick assessment of her son whose eyes were wide and fearful.

"Asshole!" Mulder shouted, swinging the car to the side of the road and flinging off his seatbelt.

"Daddy" his son asked, scared from the back seat, soon comforted by his mother's touch on his knee.

"It's ok, honey," she soothed him as he squirmed in his booster seat. "It was just a fender-bender." He reached over lap and fished in the glovebox for their insurance papers. Just as he maneuvered out of the car her eyes darted from her son to the activity outside the rear view window, noticing the man running toward Mulder, crowbar in hand. She screamed his name, trying to grab for him as the bar was swung into his chest, just as he stood fully out of the car.

"Mulder!"

A/N: Should I continue with this story? Tell me what you think :)