This is going to be a collection of unrelated drabbles. It's safe to assume they'll all be some kind of MSR and you can forget season 9 and IWTB even exist.
Time Period: post-series
Disclaimer: I don't own X-Files. Don't sue me, Chris.
"He's very bright, Mrs. Scully; one of the smartest children in the class. He's reading at a 5th grade level right now, and I expect to see that improve even further by the time he's finished with 1st grade."
"Well I'm very pleased to hear that. We've always known he was above average." Scully pauses for a moment to study her son's kindergarten teacher. She hasn't been asked to come in to discuss William's intelligence and they both know it. "But that isn't why you called me in here, is it?"
"No," the young woman confirms, readjusting some of the papers in front of her. "I have the children keep journals. They're supposed to write about their day or something interesting that happened over the weekend. It's just to help improve their handwriting and spelling skills."
Scully tries to keep from sighing out loud. She already has an idea where this was going. Damn Mulder and his refusal to simply read a bedtime story from a book instead of making up his own.
"William's journals are quite…different from the other children's," the brunette explains carefully. She lifts a few pieces of paper from her pile and slides them over to Scully's side of the table, fanning them out so she can view multiple journals. Each page has a drawing on the top half and then a few lines of shaky writing. The first page contains a child's crayon illustration of a classic UFO with a blue light coming from the bottom of the ship. Underneath the light stands a stick figure with brown hair and matching eyes. The next one features a man and woman with an angry-looking man with big yellow eyes. Then the same pair, but this time they're pointing guns at an old man with a cigarette in one hand. The teacher gives Scully a minute to study the pages before speaking again.
"Your son has a very active imagination, Mrs. Scully. That in itself isn't unusual; many children at his age like to concoct fantastical stories. The worry I have here is the disturbing elements to his stories." She points to the middle page. "Here he talks about an ageless creature that murders people and eats their livers. That's very dark for a 5 year old, Mrs. Scully. And he truly seems to believe that these things are real." She pauses to let Scully comment on the drawings.
Forcing a false look of surprise, she lies through her teeth. "Well I knew he had an active imagination, but I had no idea it was this extreme. I don't have the slightest clue how he came up with such ridiculous stories!"
The younger woman gathers up William's journals again and taps them once against the table to form a nice, neat pile. "It seems that most of these fantasies stem from stories that his father has been telling him. Maybe you could talk to him about it," she suggests.
Scully feels a little bit like she's back in Kersh's office. She can't even count the number of times Mulder has emerged from William's room at night and brushed off her grievances. "It's just a bedtime story, Scully," he chides, as if she was asking him to take down his I Want To Believe poster.
She smiles tightly as she stands up to leave. "Oh I'll definitely be talking to him about it."