a/n: this was a very unique chapter for me to write. I would love your feedback on it, especially since I am unsure of what to do next.
~August 28, 1994 (26 weeks)~
Mulder's carryon bag was packed with crayons and small books that Anna had thought he might like to bring with him to Connecticut. He had searched and searched for the bag all morning before she proudly presented it to him, grinning from ear to ear. It was just the memory he needed to hold on to while he was traveling to his mother's house in Greenwich. It was just the memory he needed to get him through the long process of trying to mend a relationship that he didn't think had ever been healthy in the first place.
As soon as Scully had mentioned him reconciling with his mother, he knew she meant it. She rarely said things she didn't mean. It was a noble cause, he had to admit, and her intentions were good. But it was Mulder's opinion that Scully was severely overestimating his mother. After all, she didn't know her like he did. He was kind of looking forward to getting there, telling her the news, disappointing her, and then being able to go home and tell Scully that he did all he could, but she was a lost cause. It was time now, as he was starting his own family, to figure out what to do about the rest of it. If you could even call them family.
The house looked just as he remembered it. Cold. Lonely. The same as it did when he'd seen it last and the same as it did when he lived in it 15 years ago. He'd moved to England not only to attend Oxford, but to escape that house. And the woman in it.
She made her way to the door slowly after he rang the bell. She must have seen him. Or she was getting older than he realized.
"Fox?" she asked once she opened it for him. He couldn't blame her for being surprised. After their last conversation, she probably thought that it would be more likely for Samantha to come knocking on her door than her son.
"Hi Mom," he tried to be friendly. Then they just stood there for a moment, taking each other in. Recognizing how long it had been.
"Well come on and give your mother a hug," Teena finally said, enveloping her son in what he truly believed was a well-intended embrace. Seeing each other after all these years finally made it register within the two of them just how long it had been. And, for Teena, how much she had missed.
"Uh, how are you Mom?" Mulder made pleasantries once he was invited inside. He followed his mother to the kitchen, which had been redone recently, as she fiddled with putting coffee on.
"I've been well, Fox, thank you," was all she offered, though she knew he wanted more. Why come all this way just for that and a cup of black coffee? He could have struck up conversation with any old woman back in DC and gotten that, possibly more. "How have you been?"
"Good. Good. Can't complain."
"I'm glad to hear that." As the coffee brewed, he looked around. Besides the obvious remodeling of the kitchen, nothing was much different than he remembered, just like the outside of the house. It was interesting to find, though, that Teena Mulder still sported pictures of her family on the walls of her home. When her friends came over for bridge, did she speak of them like she would a normal family? That's Bill, he died a few years back… Samantha and the twins are doing well… Fox really loves his job…
Had she learned to live with the truth instead of always escaping reality with alcohol and sleeping pills like she had when he was growing up?
"Alright Fox," Teena said abruptly, finally sitting down with two cups of black coffee. If her son wanted cream or sugar, he was more than happy to help himself. She hoped he knew that. "Tell me what it is you came all the way up here for." They had missed so much of each others' lives that there was no time left to beat around the bush.
"Umm… well Mom… do you remember Dana Scully?" he felt was the best way to start the conversation.
"Yes," she offered, and only that. She remembered quite well the last time she had spoken with her son. Dana Scully was the woman they had disagreed over. Frankly, she was shocked that, all these years later, the woman was still in his life. Or at least, that's how he made it seem.
"She and I, uh… she and I are expecting a child soon. A baby girl. In November."
He'd never shocked his mother speechless before, she was quite capable of speechlessness with enough bourbon.
"So you've married her?" Teena asked.
"No Mom, we're not married."
"Engaged?"
"Would you stop?" Mulder pounded the table, feeling hopeless. He hadn't come here to be judged by his hypocritical mother. He hadn't come here of his own volition at all.
"Stop what, Fox? You want me to just sit idly by while you get taken advantage of by this woman?"
"You need to stop referring to her like that. You know nothing about her at all. She's smart and independent and strong… the last thing she would ever want to do is take advantage of me."
"Then how'd she get pregnant?"
"What does it matter? The only thing that matters is that in less than four months, I'm going to have a daughter. And you're going to have grandchild. And I came up here today to ask you what you want to do about that. We can't go on pretending the other doesn't exist forever."
Teena knew her son was right. But after the mistakes she made, after the way she was played, maybe the most motherly instinct she had in her was to make sure that that didn't happen to her son.
"Fox, what you want me to be to your daughter is up to you," she said quietly.
"Maybe it would be if I had any idea of what you are to me."
Her eyes conveyed the hurt she was feeling. She was his mother. She hadn't always made the best choices, but she had always wanted to be his mother.
"This shouldn't be so hard," he told her after a few moments of silence.
"You're right."
"I've done all I can do here—"
"What do you want me to say, Fox? You are my son. You are my son, and I've never forgotten that. I know that I've made some terrible decisions, and I've done a lot to hurt you. I won't ever be able to live that down. And that's just it. I don't know what to do or say to make you forgive me, because I wouldn't be able to forgive myself. Maybe that's why I don't approve of your relationship with Dana… I'm looking for ways to push you away. To protect you." Teena was crying now, but her son had been frozen by her words. He had expected to dance around their true feelings and about the past for awhile, until she finally had enough and shut down. But all of her sentiments had come out at once, flooding him. It was exactly what he had wanted her to say since he was 12-years-old.
"Nothing Mom," he moved toward her and wrapped his arms around her, rubbing the back of her neck as she cried into his shoulder, "you don't have to say anything. You've said it all."
"No," she sniffled, "no, Fox, I haven't. I need to tell you how sorry I am. I need to at least say the words."
"I'm sorry too," Mulder said because he meant it.
They had quite a long talk after that revelation, sorting through events and emotions that had lay dormant for 20 years. It took several hours, much longer than expected, but Mulder and his mother reached somewhat of an agreement regarding their relationship. One that included her as a part of his daughter's life.
"Be careful going home, Fox. It's a long way back to Washington."
"I'm just going to drive back to New Haven and take the red-eye home. Maybe I'll be able to get some sleep."
"Well call me when you get home," Teena told him. He never thought this was how their conversation would end. It made him feel invincible. It made him feel as if someone was putting him back together again, and now he was whole. It made him feel complete, but it also made him more aware of the other piece he was missing.
"Have you heard from Dad lately?" he asked.
"No, I haven't heard from your father in several years."
"Does he still live in Chilmark?"
"As far as I know."
Mulder nodded, hugging his mother again. He knew he wasn't going back to New Haven that night.
Nostalgia set in once more as he pulled up to his father's home. But, unlike with his mother, he didn't sit in the car and wonder about this interaction. It was already almost 1 a.m., and he felt like he was running out of time.
Despite the late hour, a light did go on when he knocked on the door. Wheezing could be heard from someone coming down the stairs. And then the door opened.
Mulder believed at first that his father indeed did not live there anymore. In front of him stood a wisp of a man, small and pale, coughing and hairless. But it indeed was his father, and he was obviously very sick.
"Fox?" Bill Mulder rasped, almost as shocked to see his son as he was to see him.
"Dad," Mulder reacted, reaching out his hand to him, indicating that the past was the past. Bill, having gotten the message, not only accepted his hand, but pulled the rest of his estranged son into him for a hug. Mulder couldn't ever remember hugging his father, no matter how great his memory was.
Bill Mulder had stage IV terminal stomach cancer. He'd been diagnosed over two years ago, but had refused treatment until it was too late. Though he hadn't said it, Mulder knew he felt he had nothing to live for. His life hadn't changed much since he'd retired from the State Department. He slept alone, ate alone, watched TV alone, read the newspaper alone… just like his son had thought he always wanted to live his life. Until the hug they shared on the doorstep of their old home, that is.
"Why don't you come home with me, Dad? Come to DC so that I can look after you," Mulder offered as the sun began to rise over the vineyard. He knew that after their long conversations, he must be getting tired. And it occurred to him briefly that Scully would want to know where he was.
"I made a vow that I would never go near DC again once I got out of there. I may be dying, but I'm not about to break that promise."
"Please Dad… you shouldn't be here alone."
"I carved my life as sure as I carved that fishing pole over the fireplace. And alone is what I've made it."
"The woman I live with, Dana, she's a doctor. She can take good care of you."
"No, Fox. I never gave you anything in your entire life besides bruises and bad dreams. I'm not about to become a burden on you and your family now as I'm about to die."
"It wouldn't be a burden—"
"Please, son. Let me live with the consequences of my actions. And let me die knowing that you are a better man than I could ever have hoped to be."
"Mulder?" Scully answered the phone at noon the next day. She sounded restless, like she had been waiting for him. He was sure she had been.
"Yeah, Scully, it's me."
"Mulder, where the hell have you been? I've been so worried."
"I'm sorry. I went to my mother's and that enticed me to visit my father."
"Your father?" Scully was shocked. As much as she wanted her daughter to have both grandparents, she knew Mulder's father had been off-limits.
"Yeah. And he's bad, Scully… He never told anyone, but… he has cancer."
"Oh my God."
"Terminal cancer. He looks… I thought I had the wrong place at first."
"Where are you now Mulder?"
"In New Haven. Had to drop off the rental car at the airport. I'm just about to board."
"So you'll be home soon?"
"Very soon."
"Good," she breathed in a 'I missed you way too much' kind of way.
Anna was the first person to meet him off the plane. He hadn't asked them too, but Scully had come to the airport to pick him up. Not only that, they were waiting at the gate.
"Mulder!" her exclamation was the only warning he had to the impending hug. As soon as she met him, her feet were off the ground and her body was high above his head.
"Hi baby!" he tried to match her excitement, despite how tired he was.
Scully must have alerted her daughter to the fact that Mulder was going through a rough time with his family. She hugged him around the neck longer than he expected, and she kissed his cheek on her own, which was rare.
"I love you," she then told him, giving him no doubt that her mother had said something.
"I love you more," he joked to let her know it was okay.
"Hey," Scully finally waddled toward them. She insisted that she had yet to waddle, but her belly was making it hard for her to deny it anymore.
"Hi," he kissed her cheek too.
"Do you want to—"
"I just wanna go home."
So they did.
At home, Anna ran off to her bedroom right away to get a painting she had done at one of her first days of first grade. He dropped his bag and Scully noticed.
"So now do you want to talk about it?" she asked him, moving closer.
"He's dying, Scully. What more is there to say? I ignored my dad for most of my life, and now that we've finally made amends, he's dying."
"At least you know that you've done that much. And you were able to get there in time to see him and make that known."
"I don't know if I wouldn't have preferred keeping things the way they were and then finding out he after the fact. Less painful."
"Maybe at first. But then you'll start to have all these questions and emotions that you can only convey to him. And he would be gone, unable to hear them. You would never have closure."
"What you're saying makes perfect sense, Scully, but right now… I don't think it's hit me yet."
"You've been through a lot."
Mulder nodded silently, waiting for Anna to come back downstairs. Sensing that he needed to be alone, Scully picked up his bag and went to unload it in the next room. Before she could get out of earshot, though, there was something Mulder needed to tell her.
"Scully."
"Yes?"
"Thank you."