Dreaming Aloud pt2
By Jane Goodwin
Disclaimer: This is fanfic. No copyright infringement, yadda yadda.
"In that book which is my memory
On the first page of the chapter
That is the day when I first met you
Appear the words:
Here begins a new life. "
~ Dante Alighieri 'La Vita Nuova'
"From an endless beach of reality, we take
a grain of sand and call it the world."
~ Robert Pirsig
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
For the longest of times, Mulder remained still, staring silently at the
little girl beside him. He could have stayed like that forever but for a
nagging feeling in the back of his mind. He felt something he couldn't
remember feeling since he left his other life. He was compelled to find
the truth. The truth about his sister. He had to know for sure if that
dream the night before, as painful as it was for him, was the truth.
Although this feeling overwhelmed him, something held him back. He
wanted desperately to hold onto the calm stillness of early morning in
which he lay with his daughter. A large part of him wanted to hide in
the shadows, never knowing for sure. Ignorance is bliss, he mused to
himself. What was it the cigarette smoking man and his cronies said?
Deny everything? At that moment, it seemed like a pretty sound
philosophy to him. If he never found out for sure, he could always just
deny it all to himself. His psychological training told him that was
unhealthy, but he didn't care. Yet he also wanted closure, as though
a part of him would never be complete otherwise. He had to know,
and there was only one way.
Slowly he lifted himself over the back of the couch, careful not to
disturb Emily's sleep. She stirred slightly but did not wake, much to
Mulder's relief. He grabbed his coat from the stand next to the door,
thankful he hadn't bothered to change out of his clothes the night
before. Just as he was about to leave the apartment, he stopped,
turning back around to the little girl on the couch. She was still
sleeping, but it occurred to Mulder how irresponsible it was just
leaving her on there like that. He walked back over to her and
bundled the little girl in his arms. As quietly as possible, he carried
her down the corridor and into her bedroom. He laid her down on the
bed and pulled her blankets gently around her. As he looked down at
the small head protruding from under the covers, a broad smile
engulfed his face. He lent down and kissed her gently. She stirred,
opening her eyes just a crack.
" 'night daddy," she murmured.
"Goodnight Emily," Mulder replied softly, before turning and making
his way hurriedly back down the corridor and to the door. Quietly, he
pulled the door shut behind him and made his way to the elevator.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The house loomed before him, illuminated by the nearly full moon
above. An echoing splash ensued as the cab pulled abruptly into the
curb, the overflowing gutter the only remaining evidence of the heavy
rain of earlier that night. Presently, a mere sprinkle fell on the
glistening pavement. The light droplets gently pelted the window from
which Mulder gazed, and he was almost too lost in thought to notice
the car had stopped. The sight of the neat, old building in front of him
conjured up a cavalcade of images and memories, long hidden in the
depths of Mulder's subconscious. He'd actually been quite amazed to
find he remembered the address, surely a testament to his recovering
memory. His reminiscing was quickly interrupted by the harsh, gruff
tones of the cab driver's voice.
"Hey, are you going to be getting out of here already or what?" he
asked impatiently.
Mulder turned his head slowly toward the driver and, noticing the
annoyed and weary frown on the man's face, he hurried to regain his
presence of mind. He couldn't blame him for his attitude, it *was* after
4 in the morning after all.
"Yeah, of course, sorry. How much do I owe you?"
"Six sixty, thanks."
Mulder fished around in his wallet for the correct change, handed it to
the driver with a small smile, and exited the vehicle. He stood there
staring up at the house long after the cab had moved off. An icy shiver
ran through him, and he automatically pulled the warm protection of
his coat tighter around his body, even though he knew physical
coldness had nothing to do with his shivering. With a small sigh, he
began to ascend the drive.
Reaching the door, his finger hesitated on the small, round button
momentarily, before pressing squarely on it repeatedly. A long
moment passed before Mulder saw a light go on inside, and a figure
in white head towards him, albeit muffled by the frosty, slightly
translucent glass surrounding the old wooden door. A woman in her
sixties, bleary-eyed as one would expect from someone who had just
been startled awake, opened the door and stood staring at him. A
mixture of shock and expectancy was evident on her face as she
looked deep into Mulder's alert and vibrant eyes. Mulder smiled
sheepishly at his mother.
"Fox... do you realise what time it is?"
"It's just after four. I'm sorry to wake you, but this couldn't wait." He
pushed his way past Mrs Mulder and on into the house. He stopped
abruptly and turned back to his mother. "Where's... um, dad." He
stumbled over the last word.
Teena closed the door and then joined her son down the main
corridor. "His sister, Cassandra, fell ill and he went to be with her.
You know, she lives in Chicago. Jeffrey called us last night and Chris
was off first thing this morning."
Mulder pondered his mother's last comment with a mixture of
amusement and something close to fear. The thought of CSM rushing
off out of concern to help an ailing family member was laughable, and
scary at the same time. He remained as unfazed as possible about
the barrage of familiar names which had accompanied Teena's
explanation, and instead headed for the kitchen. Once there, he
quickly took up residence of one of four chairs placed around a
circular table.
Teena followed, shivering slightly. "I'll, um, put the kettle on. You
need to warm up. Would you like a herbal tea, Fox?"
Mulder nodded. "Yeah, that'd be nice mom. Thanks."
Mrs Mulder busied herself with finding cups and boiling water as Fox
sat, ordering his thoughts. It was some time before he finally spoke.
"Mom... how did Samantha die?"
She stopped abruptly. The few, heavy drops of rain outside, each a
separate and identifiable splash on the pavement, echoed ominously
in the silence which engulfed the room as Mrs Mulder stared at her
son. "Samantha, eh?" she responded, diverting her eyes to the mug in
her hand. She looked up and smiled at her son. "That was a long
time ago."
"Please mom, I just need to know."
Teena joined Fox at the table, sitting opposite him. Once again, there
was another long silence. "She was 8 and you were 12 at the time.
We - you, me, and Samantha - were on our way home from some,
um, school function or something like that. I can't exactly remember
the details now."
She shifted in her chair. "It was late, we were in the car, there was,
um, another car and it just suddenly swerved in front of us. Turned out
the driver was drunk, the usual way it goes. We collided with it, the car
flipped, and... well... when I came to in hospital some time later I was
told that Samantha was dead. That she'd hit her head with the
impact, or...or... something like that. "
She recounted the last few words as she finally looked up into her
son's eyes. "She was gone just like that."
Mulder smiled comfortingly at his mother, reaching out his hand to
grasp hers which was rested on the table. "I know it's not a very
pleasant topic of conversation, mom. I just had to know. You see, I...
dreamt about it last night. The night of the crash, I mean. And I just...
didn't know whether what I was seeing was real or not. Whether I
could trust my subconscious. But you know, a lot of thing make sense
now." He looked down suddenly at his lap and moved his hand
slowly over his face.
"Fox... what's wrong? What is it?" Slowly and sombrely he began to
recount the events of his sister's abduction in his other life. He told
her how she had been taken from him when he was 12 and she was
8, and how he'd been completely powerless to do anything. The
parallels were all there, set out plainly in his story. The blinding light,
being unable to move due to something restraining his body, even the
ages were the same. It was so clear exactly how his subconscious
had formulated such a scenario. When he'd finished, he looked up at
Mrs Mulder, who sat silently absorbing what her son had just related
to her.
"Fox... I think I'm starting to understand how hard this transition has
been for you. Such strong memories - traumatic memories - of
another lifetime... I can only imagine just how disconcerting that would
be for you. Suddenly yanked from one world, complete in it's detail,
and told it was never real. I really am amazed that you've coped as
well as you have."
She smiled at him softly, and Mulder smiled back. "I'll, um, get that
tea." She got up and busied herself once again preparing their
drinks.
Fox turned around to her, thoughtfully. "Mum, could you tell me more
about, well, the aftermath of the accident. The effects on the family, I
mean."
Teena returned with the tea and handed one cup to Fox, who
acknowledged it with a smile. She sat again, taking a sip from her
cup.
"It effected all of us terribly, needless to say. But... Chris was the
worst. Samantha had always been his little girl. They'd been very
close. I think he blamed himself, in a way. He hadn't made time to
come that night, and sort of thought that maybe if he had been there,
then he perhaps might have prevented it. I'm not a psychiatrist and I
don't pretend to be, but that's what I always thought. It was irrational
and pointless, but I don't think he ever forgave himself. He became
distant and reclusive, uncommunicative. It's just he couldn't get over
it, and he let all of his other relationships suffer for it. Especially with
you. That was actually the reason for your rift, you know. You always
felt angry that he let his grief consume him so much that he was never
there for you. You had a huge blow up about it around 6 years ago -
on Thanksgiving of all times." She allowed a small, wry smile play
across her features. "You've barely spoken since."
Mulder listened intently to all his mother had to say, distracted only by
sips of the warm, soothing liquid in his mug. As she spoke, he
actually found himself transported back to a time six years before, and
it had indeed been Thanksgiving, just as Mrs Mulder had recalled.
Images of CSM and himself, yelled words and heated argument
flashed in quick succession in his mind's eye. To Fox, it suddenly
made vivid sense why his subconscious would portray CSM in the
light it did. In reality they'd had an unhappy and distant relationship -
all stemming back to Samantha. He recalled out loud to him mother
how CSM had been the leader of a group of government conspirators,
and how he'd been involved in the root of Samantha's abduction and
indeed his life's quest. Teena nodded, once again understanding the
connections.
"Fox, when you had your accident... well, you don't know how badly
that effected him. Losing another child in the same way... it was more
than he could bare. As harsh as this might sound, it actually took your
crash for him to realise how distant your relationship had been. That
he'd never reconciled with you, that was terribly hard on him. The
relief he felt when you woke up... I can't even begin to tell you. He just
didn't know how to make the first step to mend things in your
relationship."
Mulder fell silent, his mind whirling. He thought for a long time about
his mother's words. Finally, he spoke quietly, his voice distant and
small - almost like a child's. "Mom... when's Dad getting back?"
"Oh, well, he should be back today, I think. Possibly tomorrow, I'm not
too sure." She glanced at her watch, noticing that the time was close
to five.
Mulder looked at his own watch and was genuinely shocked at how
late (or indeed early, depending on one's point of view) it was. "Oh
my god, Mom, I'm so sorry to keep you talking like this. I shouldn't
have woken you."
Mrs Mulder placed a reassuring hand on Fox's arm. "Not at all, Fox,
I'm glad you came. I only hope I've been of some help to you."
He rose from his chair and kissed her gently on the cheek.
"Thankyou."
"Anyway, I better get going," he said as he reached for his coat which
was lying on the table. "I can see myself out." He smiled at his mother,
turned, and left.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Alone in the half light of early morning, as the world made the slow
transition from night to into day, Fox Mulder walked along the shinning
pavement. He watched as the streetlights glistened in the sidewalk,
and listened as the few birds which lived in the city awoke from their
night's slumber with a rustling and soft chirping. For once he felt
somewhat at peace with himself and the world stirring around him,
and soaked up the pleasant feeling for as long as he was able. He
wasn't quite sure how long he'd been strolling along, only that the city
was now a much lighter shade of grey than it had been when he'd
started out on this journey.
He continued to walk on through the city streets, surveying his
surroundings with an absent eye. His thoughts became slightly more
grounded as he remembered more specifically his talk with his
mother. She said a lot, and he was only just now beginning to sift
through it all. Through all he recalled, his thoughts kept centring on
all that she'd suggested about his father. He couldn't shake the
thought of *CSM* actually caring about anyone else other than
himself. Of course, he continually reminded himself that his father
wasn't the shady smoking guy he'd known before, but it was still
utterly difficult to fathom. He sighed, and continued walking.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fox put off visiting his father for over a week, not being quite able to
summon the will power to make the journey to his parent's house and
face the risk of rejection. Night after night Mulder's dreams were filled
with snippets of their fight that Thanksgiving, and as a result he
thought about nothing much else through most of his waking time, too.
All day at work (which he had recently returned to) he halfheartedly
read through files, while all the time playing out different scenarios in
his mind about what he would say if he indeed gathered the courage
to go to see his father. After nearly two straight weeks of this
brooding, he finally felt ready to do it.
However, in the interim, Fox had spent a solid day on his own,
scouring over old photo albums of his life with Emily and Dana.
Startlingly to him, Fox had found that, as he stared at each snapshot,
nearly always an accompanying, vivid scene would play across his
mind. These rich and clear memories filled his thoughts like scenes
from a movie, the clarity almost astonishing. But what he remembered
didn't just end with the photos, but the colour images prompted a
further array of memories spanning a life time, and Fox allowed
himself to revel in the wonderful times he'd had, and be swept up in
events less positive in nature. Still, Mulder was ecstatic to find that he
had begun to remember much of his life, and these memories served
to reiterate further the need to patch up old wounds between himself
and his father. Deciding it was time, he promised himself that the very
next day he would pay a visit to him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fox knocked tentatively, his hand just discernibly shaking as he lifted
it. About a minute later, the door opened, revealing Christopher
George Benjamin Mulder, his face an interesting shade of grey no
doubt from lack of sleep and years of heavy smoking. Just like him -
and now it appeared just like his daughter - Mulder's father suffered
from chronic insomnia. It was a family trait, and Fox had accepted it
years ago as his inevitable lot in life. Sure, being able to survive on
little sleep was often an edge, but Mulder often longed to just be able
to sleep one night, straight through. Perhaps then, he often mused,
his life might start to make some sense.
"Fox," Mr Mulder observed, half as a question and partly as a plain
stating of fact.
"Hi Dad," Fox replied with a half smile.
The two men stood, staring at one another silently for nearly 30
seconds. Finally, CSM seemed to break out of a trance, and turn
sharply. "Well, uh, come in," he half coughed, his voice gravelly and
weary. They entered the house and began walking side by side to the
living room. "If you're looking for your mother, she's out with a friend."
They stopped, reaching their destination, a comfortable looking room,
glass windows tiled along one wall allowing a steady stream of
sunlight in.
Fox turned to his father, and looked directly into his eyes, which in
colour bore a striking resemblance to his own. "No, actually, Dad... I,
uh, came to talk to you." As he spoke, he fidgeted nervously with his
tie.
"Oh?" Chris Mulder asked, surprised.
Mulder looked at his father and swallowed hard. "Ok, Dad, I just... I
want to say what I'm about to say, and I don't want you to interrupt till
I'm finished, ok?" CSM nodded in response, and Mulder continued.
"Right, well, ok then." He paused nervously. "Now, um... certain recent
events in my life have made me start to, um, reevaluate... everything.
Since the accident, I've thought about our relationship, and I just can't
help but feel sad, ya know? Somehow we let a wall build up between
us, and a rift enter our lives, and... well, I've begun to realise that life's
too short to hold onto that kind of useless, borderline malevolence.
How did we become so estranged, Dad? We were so close when I
was kid, when Samantha was..." He stopped mid sentence, frowning
at the tack he'd ended up taking. This didn't appear to be going too
well. Never the less, he continued on, plunging into the next thought.
"I can't really explain this to you, but, uh, since I was in the coma, I feel
I have a newfound understanding of just what you went through after
Sam died." Fox gulped back tears as images of Samantha being
lifted from her bed; Scully's sister lying dead at the hands of his own
enemies; Deep Throat; Scully lying in a hospital bed comatose, the
life virtually drained from her by a force he'd brought her into contact
with, inadvertently or not, all flew through his mind along with
numerous others. "I understand now the pain and the guilt you must
have gone through, whether it was founded or not. Well, what I'm
getting at is, I'm sorry I ever held that against you, and I'm sorry I didn't
tell you all this years ago." Fox had been avoiding his father's eyes
throughout his little speech, but finally raised his gaze to meet his.
Chris Mulder turned his head away slightly, his eyes frosty with the
unshed tears of a lifetime. When he finally spoke, his voice was
scratchy and choking. "Fox, when you were in the car accident, I
actually thought I'd never see you again, and never get a chance to
make things right with you. I've wanted for so many years to
apologise for never being a good enough father for you. I let my grief
consume me... and it just about cost me everything else that I held
dear in this world. You and your mother... I always wished there was
some way I could have made it up to you."
"We've both made mistakes, Dad, but... I'm willing to move forward, if
you are," he asked it as a question, but his tone came out as more of a
plea than anything else. It seemed to Fox at that moment that if he
could just do this right, then maybe his whole life might start making
sense. He just knew that he had to make peace with his father.
Mulder's father stared into his face, a single, lonely tear falling from
his eye. They smiled at each other, and embraced warmly. Mulder
grinned, as his father began to chuckle lightly. In time, Mulder began
to chuckle too, and they stood there together, just laughing quite
contentedly, for a long time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Later that afternoon, Fox returned home to hear Dana talking on the
phone. Actually, talking wasn't exactly the word, and Fox couldn't
help but feel the slightest bit sorry for the person on the other end.
"No goddamn it, you're not listening to me! I have an appointment
with my daughter's school tomorrow, and I'm asking you - no
*demanding* - that you reschedule!"
Fox grinned at the little red head of terror, and could only imagine
what sort of fear she incited in people who didn't know her the way he
did. Just looking at her back practically made him shiver.
"Well make it happen! I don't care..." Dana, visibly frustrated, allowed
her voice to soften as she attempted a different tact. "Please, if you'd
just talk to him. I understand that this appointment has been in place
for some time now, but I'm only asking to reschedule by a day. A few
hours, even. I mean, god, how busy can the dean of a University
be??? And it's semester break, for heavens sakes. Just talk to him..."
Fox frowned at what he heard. Dana had been asked to meet with the
Dean, as well as various other school officials, to discuss the
possibility of becoming the head of medicine at Washington Uni, as
well as being granted an extensive research grant.
"Dana?" Fox asked tentatively.
Not having noticed him in the room until that point, her head shot
around and she was visibly startled. She stared at Fox, blankly,
before calmly saying into the phone, "Could you just hold on a
minute?" Lowering the receiver and holding the microphone with her
flattened hand, she nodded for him to continue.
Mulder swallowed hard and lowered his eyes to stare at his feet, a
sight which had become vary familiar to him over the past month or
so. "Um... I could, uh, take Emily to her school interview."
Dana looked at him for a moment, then asked softly, "You... you sure
you'd be ok with that? Cos I'm sure I'll be able to change this
appointment-"
Fox cut her off, bringing his gaze back up to meet hers. "Yeah, I'm
sure." He smiled. "I'd be happy to."
Dana smiled back appreciatively and proudly, as she knew just how
large and difficult a step this was for her husband. "That would be
great. Thankyou."
She lifted the phone back up to her ear. "Um... yeah, I'm here. Right,
well, there have been some new developments, and I no longer need
the appointment changed. Thankyou for your time." She hung up the
phone, and turned back to Fox.
"You're sure about this?" she asked gently.
He nodded. "I'm sure."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next day, Mulder accompanied Emily to school. He felt like a big
kid himself, sitting on one of those tiny chairs made especially for 1st
graders, or so it always seemed, and gazing at displays of paper craft
and cellophane splashed about the rooms to impress visiting parents.
As Emily played happily with some lego in a tucked away corner of
the room, Fox sat and talked to her teacher nearby. Mrs Hoover was a
stout, round, and smiley sort of person - somebody one might
describe as 'jolly'. Rather severely bobbed, chocolate coloured hair
swung loosely above her shoulders, and the perpetual smile on her
face gave her the impression of one of those side-show clowns at a
fair ground.
"Emily is a wonderful girl," Mrs Hoover was saying. "She's very bright
you know. Oh yes, possibly the brightest I have this year. She's
communicative, expressive, has mature reasoning skills." She
stopped and frowned.
Mulder looked at her cynically. "And I sense a 'but' coming here."
Mrs Hoover smiled at Mulder, not unkindly, but slightly patronising
none the less. "She just doesn't seem to want to make any real
friendships. Oh, don't get me wrong, she's very friendly and
cooperative with the other children, but she just doesn't seem to have
the desire to make any strong friendships."
Fox thought back to his own first years at school, and sighed. He
remembered sitting alone most lunchtimes, just... well, thinking.
Looking back on it now, it did seem rather absurd for a 6 year old boy
to be sitting and thinking out of his own free will, but that was none the
less what he'd done. In fact, he didn't remember ever really making
strong friendships until reaching high school. Yet, he was never an
unhappy child, and everything he'd done as a kid had been his own
prerogative. He remembered how all of his teachers had taken his
voluntary isolation as a sign of loneliness, and recalled with a grin the
many times they themselves had attempted to intervene and forge
friendships *for* him.
"Well," Mulder replied, adding a hint of condescension to his voice,
"I'm sure when Emily feels she wants to make lasting friendships, then
she will."
"Yes, you're probably right," Mrs Hoover agreed, turning back on the
over-friendly smile and charm that she'd let slip for just a second.
'Only grade school teachers have that smile,' Fox thought to himself
wryly, but smiled pleasantly back.
"Anyway, Emily talks about you all the time. I see from her school
records that you're a teacher of some sort?"
"Psychologist, actually, but not practising. I lecture at Washington Uni,
and I'm also involved part-time in the FBI's violent crimes division as a
psychological profiler. Ya know, that's where you delve into the minds
of serial killers and unstable murderers to uncover their motives and
the details of their violent killing sprees," he allowed the words to roll
of his tongue casually and monotonously, as if he was describing his
work as an accountant.
The teacher's eyes went wide as he completed his personal spiel,
and Fox grinned inwardly at his still razor-sharp ability to make other's
speechless. He especially enjoyed this moment, and revelled in Mrs
Hoover's amazement for a long time as he held her gaze
unflinchingly. He could almost see her mind ticking over, and hear
her thinking 'so that's where the girl gets it'.
At that moment, Emily came racing over to them from the other side of
the room.
"Daddy, Daddy, come see what I've made," she urged excitedly,
grabbing her father by the hand.
Fox smiled. "Oh course honey, let's see what you made." He allowed
Emily to escort him across the room, pulling him by the arm, and Mrs
Hoover followed close behind.
Mulder looked down at Emily's creation of lego, and smiled again.
"It's a flying-saucer," Emily offered, beaming with pride.
Fox beamed himself, pride like he'd never felt before reverberating
from within him. "So it is!" he replied, "and such a beautiful spaceship
at that." He continued to beam, and Emily hugged tight to him. He
hugged her back. "That's my girl," he said, ruffling her hair playfully
with his hand.
Fox didn't stop smiling for about a week.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
About two weeks later, Scully sat motionless in front of her computer
screen, except for the rhythmic tapping of her fingers over the
keyboard as they darted from key to key. As she wrote, almost without
knowing it, she began to sing softly to herself, as was often the case
when she was concentrating on work but subconsciously wanting to
be some place else. Absently, she half spoke the words whilst the
accompanying tones of light country and pop music filled her head
like a narcotic. "David Duchovny, why won't you love me? Why won't
you love me, why won't you love me?" She continued to hum for
some time, barely noticing the darkening room around her, until finally
she could scarcely make out the keyboard. That was the moment
Mulder entered.
Smiling pleasantly, Fox removed his coat and placed it on it's usual
hook beside the door. "Hey."
"Oh, hey," Scully answered, squinting into the light coming through
the open door from the hallway outside.
"Whatcha up to?"
"Oh, ya know, the usual. Nothing particularly fascinating. Routine sort
of work, mind numbing to say the least."
He moved deeper into the apartment, closing the door behind him. It
was when he banged into the coffee table that the absence of light
registered in his mind. He looked in surprise at Dana. "How long
have you been sitting there?!" He groped around on the wall behind
him until his hand found the switch. Both squinted at the sudden
luminescence of their surroundings.
"Hmmm?" She asked absently, concentrating once again on her work.
"It's eight thirty you know."
Dana looked up in surprise. "It is?! Wow, I must have lost track of
time. Last thing I knew it was five." She pushed back on her chair
and stretched her arms above her, suddenly aware of the stiffness in
them.
"God, you need to take a break. How's about we go have dinner
somewhere. We might as well, seeing Emily's spending the night at
your parents'."
She smiled in agreement, then frowned as she was brought back to
reality by the glowing screen in front of her. "Oh, look, that'd be great,
but I can't. This stuff has to be finished by tomorrow."
"Come on, Dana! Live a little! Carpe Diem, live for today." He
grinned at her playfully. "You need to forget about all that, live in the
moment!"
Scully grinned back, then replied just as playfully in her best British
accent: "But Master Yoda said I should be mindful of the future!"
Still smiling, Fox eyed her questioningly. "What?"
"I said 'Master Yoda said'..." She trailed off when her words were met
by uncomprehending eyes. "Episode one..."
Mulder's eyes widened at the mention of the Star Wars prequel, and
an expression of shock crossed his features. "You mean.... I don't
believe it! Oh my god, I don't believe it! That's, that's... impossible! I
completely forgot about the new Star Wars movie! I missed it and I
didn't even notice!"
"God, that's right! You haven't seen it!" She weighed up the situation
in her mind momentarily, before closing the lid of her laptop
decisively. "Come on, it's playing two blocks away. There's bound to
be a session starting soon." She stood and began to move towards
the door.
Mulder swung around in surprise. "But I thought you had crucial work
to do?!" he exclaimed with a grin.
"Carpe diem, Fox! This is far more important! Such earth shattering
pop culture takes precedence over everything else! No, the work can
wait. Right now you and I need to be far from here. In a galaxy far, far
away, if you will." She spoke with her back to Mulder as she swiftly
moved through the doorway, grabbing her coat as she moved.
Mulder stared after her in bewilderment. Moments later, Dana's head
reappeared in the open apartment door. "Are you coming or what?"
she asked, feigning impatience.
Fox furrowed an eyebrow at Scully's impulsive actions, grinned at the
ridiculous role reversal which had just occurred within the space of
about thirty seconds, and then moved quickly after her, closing the
door behind him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"My god, I can't believe I'd completely forgotten about episode 1!!! I've
been waiting for that for nearly 20 years, and it takes me this long to
remember it!" Fox and Dana strolled out of the cinema complex and
began to walk down the street. Together they walked, Fox sporting a
jubilant and ecstatic grin, while Dana, who could hardly help being
the slightest bit effected by his contagious excitement, smiled happily.
"Well, was it worth the wait?" Scully asked.
"Oh, definitely! Well... alright, objectively, there were some things
which could have done with improving." He paused momentarily,
taking in a deep lung full of the crisp air. "Jar-Jar, for instance." He
shuddered at the mention of the rabbit/Teletubby hybrid who would no
doubt fill his nightmares for years to come. It was beyond him what
George Lucas had been thinking. "And, ok, the whole taxation thing
was a bit... weak, to say the least." Fox gesticulated widely with his
arms as he spoke, his bright eyes flashing with excited fever. "And...
yeah, ok, the characters were somewhat, um..." He frowned, as he
searched for the right word. "Underdeveloped. If Anakin had said
'yippie' or 'wizard' one more time I would've killed someone, Darth
Maul was only there to provide an aggressor for the lightsaber
scenes, Terrance Stamp was dearly underused. The 'conceived of
the midichlorians' concept... I mean, what was that, anyway?! That
came goddamn close to ruining the whole experience for me, I can tell
ya! And-" He stopped when he noticed an amused grin appearing on
Scully"s face.
"What?" he asked playfully. Scully began to giggle, an act which lit up
her face in a way Mulder had rarely ever seen before. He liked it.
Whilst Mulder had been analysing the movie, they'd continued
walking and were now nearing Reggie's.
"You should hear yourself! Glad to see your cynical streak isn't
fading."
"Oh, I'm not saying I didn't enjoy myself thoroughly! God, when the
Lucasfilm logo appeared, and the ol' theme began playing... really,
Dana I could've cried! Of course I didn't, because you were sitting
next to me." He grinned. "I wouldn't have wanted to seem like a loser
or anything."
Dana grinned even wider, but turned her head away from Fox to hide
the slight embarrassment appearing in her eyes. She certainly wasn't
about to let Fox know that she, herself, had had the exact same
reaction upon her first viewing of the movie.
Mulder stopped outside Reggie's. "You want to get a drink or
something?"
Scully smiled. "Yeah, that'd be nice, Fox."
The two entered and took up residence of a booth located to the right
of the small bar.
"Ok, I'll go order us some drinks. What'd you like?"
Dana thought momentarily, and then replied simply: "Surprise me."
Fox grinned. "Alrighty then... milk ok with you?" he asked jokingly.
"Sounds wonderful," Scully countered with a wry smile.
Mulder nodded, then made his way over to the bar. Catching the eye
of the bartender he requested two vodka martinis, before adding:
"Stirred, not shaken." The bartend simply nodded absently, evidently
either not getting Mulder's pathetic little joke, or choosing to ignore it.
Fox sighed, and mumbled melodramatically something about how
misunderstood he was. "I'll be over there." Fox pointed to the booth
he'd come from, and the bartend once again nodded his
comprehension.
As Fox made his way back to Dana, he passed by the establishment's
jukebox positioned along the wall out of the way. At first, he walked
straight past barely slowing down, but something Mulder couldn't
explain made him stop and turn around. He stood in front of the
brightly lit machine, scouring the display of song titles. As he
skimmed down the list, one in particular suddenly caught his eye, and
he took in a quick, shallow gasp in surprise. He stared at the name for
a long moment. Hesitantly, he looked up at Dana who was still seated
over the other side of the room, staring at something out of sight to him
with her trademark furrowed brow. He looked from her to the jukebox
repeatedly, in two minds about what action to take. Reaching into his
pocket, he slowly withdrew a quarter. He turned the coin in his hand
indecisively, before finally placing it firmly in the coin slot and pressing
hard the number of the familiar tune. Almost instantaneously, the
strains of soothing piano notes filled the room. Mulder breathed in the
atmosphere deeply, and walked briskly over to Scully.
"Care to dance?" he asked, reaching his hand out to her.
Dana looked up at him slowly, an expression of astonishment on her
face. "Well, uh..."
Mulder didn't let her finish, as he grasped her hand and pulled her to
her feet and towards him in one swift motion. Gently, he placed his
hands on her shoulders, and Scully curled hers comfortably around
his waist. The two began to sway in synchronisation to the soft music.
"Put on my blue suede shoes and I boarded the plane.
Touched down in the land of the delta blues, middle of the pouring
rain..."
The soulful tones of Cher's powerful yet somewhat haunting style
echoed around them. They continued to dance, as Dana's face
formed into a broad smile. As Mulder stared into her eyes, he became
aware that she'd never looked so much like his old Scully than she
did at that moment. Amazingly though, for a reason he couldn't quite
define, he didn't care in the least. Fox smiled back at her.
"When I was walking in Memphis
I was walking with my feet 10 feet off of Beal.
Walking in Memphis... but do I really feel the way I feel?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A few days passed. Restlessly, Mulder flipped through the magazine,
scanning each page briefly before turning to the next. It was late at
night, close to 4am, and once again Fox was wide awake. Rather
than lie in the dark restlessly, he'd decided to instead catch up on
some reading. He wasn't entirely sure when exactly Scientific
American had entered into the realm of light reading for the middle of
the night, but enjoyed the intellectual stimulation anyway.
He flipped a page and was faced with a somewhat familiar sight. He
stared at the words on the page, before breaking into a wide grin. The
article he had stumbled across bore an almost eerily familiar name.
'Einstein's twin paradox theory: a new interpretation.' He chuckled,
and thought briefly about making the trip down the hall to Scully's
room, but faced with the reality of time decided against that option. He
instead folded down the corner of the page, and made a mental note
to show Scully in the morning.
'She'll get a real kick outa this,' he thought to himself, 'someone's
plagiarising...'
Mulder froze, eyes wide. 'Dana never wrote about Einstein..." He
gasped, realising the implication of what had just occurred.
In his mind, it would appear he'd somehow fused two of the most
important people in his life together. If his image of Dana had been
blurred with his old Scully, then how could he know anything any
more? Frantically, he considered all that he thought he'd felt for his
wife... and it occurred to him how close he'd come to replacing Scully
in his heart. Or perhaps his feelings for Dana weren't even real, and
he was merely expressing to her what he'd felt for the Scully from his
other world. Mulder's brow dripped with sweat as a panic surged from
deep within him; his hands went clammy and cold.
Flashes of James Stewart gazing into the eyes of his long dead lover,
who had perished because of his inability to deal with his own
personal demons, played across Mulder's mind. He began to feel ill,
and not just because of the lurching camera work and swirling,
psychedelic colours that accompanied the mental scenes. What if all
he'd been doing all this time was using Dana as a substitute for
Scully? Oh God, he thought, and squeezed his eyes shut, his heart
racing.
On the heels of that thought, the image of another Hitchcock character
appeared in Mulder's head, and he took in a shallow gasp of air at the
picture of the innocently smiling Anthony Perkins. Was he really that
far away from Norman Bates, himself? The evil yet tragic villain had
been governed by his inability to distinguish the past from the present,
and his imaginary world from reality. Sure, Bates's delusions were
accentuated by severe mental illness, but, Mulder thought, was he
himself really that different? After all, he had allowed himself to
believe in a fantasy world, and now it would appear, his own grasp of
reality was jaded by his longing for closure in a world that never
existed. Mulder shuddered as the sharp, high pitched squeal of
plucked violin notes, that had haunted the psyche of Hitchcock fans
the world over, resonated through his mind.
His eyes shot open and darted nervously around him. "I need to get
out of here," he murmured aloud. He considered briefly where to go,
and a familiar image flashed into his mind. The summer house in
Quonochontaug. Yes, that was perfect. He jolted up and fetched his
key to his old family holiday house from a draw where he, in what was
a complete surprise to him, remembered placing it. Sure enough, it
was there. Frantically, he grabbed the key, then his coat, and left the
apartment.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As the taxi pulled away, Mulder was left standing outside the old,
deserted house, staring up at the familiar building and surroundings.
An almost eerie chill ran through him as his mind flashed with images
of Samantha, and a blur of memories shouted into a crescendo
through his thoughts. Allowing the memories to flow freely, Fox slowly
made his way to the front door. Removing the key from his pocket with
a shaky hand, he placed it in the key hole, and after a jiggle of the
rusty lock it gave way. A mustiness immediately met Mulder's senses
- both in smell as well as sight and memory, as though opening a door
to another time. He stepped inside cautiously, almost scared of what
he might find within the familiar structure. As he ventured in further,
he surveyed the plastic covered furniture and manicured cleanness
that only came with an unlived in space. Fox walked through the
lounge, noting the completely familiar furniture. Down to the very
detail, the house had been exactly identical in his other life. Opening
a cupboard he came across old toys, old articles of clothing, and other
such items, each associated with a vivid memory. Yet, to Mulder's
surprise, the memories he found his mind flooded with were not of his
old life, but of this one. He remembered being in this house with his
family, playing ball with Samantha and his father, playing cards at the
kitchen table, adorning a Christmas tree with tinsel and ornaments
one year, and being lifted up by his father - Chris Mulder - to place a
gold star atop the mass of green pine.
Wearily, Mulder collapsed on the couch, staring at nothing, and
instead allowing the pleasant memories to play out in front of him. He
saw Samantha running before him around the lounge, himself
chasing her, and the both of them being verbally scolded by their
mother who could be heard in the near distance from the kitchen.
Fox smiled despite himself. He remembered it all - and all of it was
from this world, and this life. He sat there for a long time, just thinking
and reminiscing. What must have been hours later, for now it was
approaching dusk and the sun had well begun it's descent through
the marbled sky, Fox was lightly startled by footsteps behind him. He
knew who it was without her having to say anything. Silence engulfed
the room for some time, as the figure just stood transfixed a few paces
away. Eventually, Mulder spoke.
"You know, it's exactly the same. It's just how I remembered it -
before, I mean."
"It should be, this place was very important to you. It was a symbol of
your family, and of Samantha."
Mulder exhaled sharply. "Except that both the lamps are intact," he
added, noting the twin lamps in which Agent Mulder had located an
alien weapon what seemed like a very long time ago.
Silence once again ensued. "How'd you know where I'd be?" Fox
eventually asked.
"Oh, it wasn't too hard. I figured this was where you'd go... to think."
Mulder chuckled sadly. "To think," he repeated.
Dana moved around next to Mulder and eased onto the sofa. "And
have you been thinking?" she asked softly.
Mulder stared at the ground. "Yeah."
"And...?"
"Dana... I just... I can't go back."
Dana grasped Fox's hand, forcing his eyes to hers. "You're right Fox,
you can't go back. That's the point. You can only move forward."
Mulder gazed into Dana's eyes, but found her intense and supportive
gaze too hard to bear, and he quickly averted his gaze back to the
floor.
"But I can't just forget all that I was..."
"I know you can't just forget about your other life, and you won't, but...
what about what you have here? What about Emily and Me... don't
you love us?"
Fox turned back to Dana with tears in his eyes. "Of course I do!" he
half wailed.
"And yet you're willing to give that up because you're haunted by the
past! Don't you understand, Fox, you can't go backwards, but you can
move forward."
"I cant. It's too hard!" He broke his hand away from Dana's and
jumped to his feet, turning away from her.
Dana stood too, placing a hand on Fox's back. "Of course it's hard
Fox, noone ever said it would be easy. But you're letting the past
consume you. If you walk away now you're never going to be able to
live in this world. You'll forever be haunted by demon's from your
past!" She paused, thinking for a moment, and then spoke with a
softer and more gentle edge. "Don't you see that you're doing exactly
what you despised your father for years for? He nearly lost forever
everything that was important to him, and now you're allowing your
grief to consume you and ruin your life. You hated your father for it,
but now here you are, about to go down the same path, and the scary
thing is that you aren't even aware of it."
Fox considered this for a while, before sharply pulling away from
Dana's touch. "No!" he yelled weakly, his voice choking through
tears. "I just... I can't pretend that everything's ok when it's not!"
Scully's tone softened to nearly a whisper as she moved closer to
Fox. "It'll take time Fox, but if you leave now you'll be turning you're
back on everything you know... everyone that cares about you."
Fox shook his head. "I just need to sort some stuff out."
"And you think that running away... running from the people who love
you is the answer?"
"I can't stay! I don't know..." He shook his head fiercely. He began to
cry freely now, his body convulsing weakly with sobs. "I'm afraid that
by letting myself go, letting myself love you, that I'm replacing the
memories of my other life. That I'm turning my back on all that I was. I
feel that if I allow myself to move forward, I might lose that time
forever." More tears streamed from his eyes as he spoke. "I'm afraid
to let myself love you."
Dana finally understood. She grasped his hand firmly. She moved to
face Fox, observing his face streaked with tear tracks. "Nothing will
ever replace those memories," she replied firmly, a new found resolve
in her voice. "And I would never want to. But by letting love into
you're heart... allowing yourself to feel, you're not denying your past
but embracing the present." She moved her head until she was
looking directly into Fox's eyes. "It's alright to let yourself love, Fox."
She smiled softly, lowering her head against his chest and caressing
him gently. "It's alright to stop fighting."
They stood together, silently rocking to and fro, for a long time, and
long after the last tears had dried. Eventually, Fox pulled away
slightly to look down at Dana. As he did so, he genuinely smiled at
what he saw. He stared deep into her bright eyes, perfect oceans of
blue, and no longer did he see Scully... but he saw Dana. He hadn't
forgotten Scully, she was still in his heart, but he knew he loved Dana
more than anything at that moment.
His smile turned into a contented grin, and Dana couldn't help but
smile back. "You're right, Dana, letting love into my heart won't erase
the past... but it will mould the future." He continued to smile, and the
two embraced again. "I love you," Fox finally whispered.
"I love you too, Fox, and don't ever forget that."
They both smiled, not that either would have realised the other's
expression, as they clung to each other desperately and tightly for a
long time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They'd returned to DC that night, but Fox hadn't been able to sleep
once they were home. He was too happy to sleep. Of course, he
preferred to think of it in cliched terms, something along the lines of
'his soul was too light to sleep', but however it was defined, sleep had
been impossible. He'd instead gone out walking around sunrise, and
a light rain had started up not long after he'd left the apartment
building. As he walked he thought a lot, and somehow as he strolled,
as absurd as it may have sounded, he felt he understood the human
mind. It wasn't quite something he could define, nothing he'd ever
feel comfortable writing down or communicating to others, but the
clarity with which he looked upon the world of the subconscious at
that moment was greater than he'd ever known. 'What is reality?' was
the question he found himself asking as his mind wandered further.
The more he'd pondered the idea, the more he began to realise that
there was no definitive answer. It was just like Obi-Wan had said:
"Luke, you're going to find that many of the truths we cling to in life
depend greatly on our own point of view." Fox grinned to himself at
the though of the wise old Jedi. For himself, Fox believed reality was
whatever you believed at any given moment, and thus he took comfort
in the thought that this world was no more real than any dream he
would ever indulge in. After all, he considered his life here no more or
less real than that of Special Agent Fox Mulder, and his life at the FBI.
The one who's sister was abducted by aliens, and who seemed
destined to uncover the fate of humanity.
Fox's mind drifted back to his early days of studying ancient
philosophy, and recalled the ideas of Plato, and the ideas that so
many others had suggested in their time. He looked upon them now
with new meaning. The suggestion that the real world existed only in
our imagination was as fitting a world philosophy to him as any other.
In fact, it made a lot of sense. He thought about Scully and The X-
Files, and smiled. It occurred to him at that moment how lucky he
actually was. After all, he mused, how many people could claim to
have been given a second chance at life, a chance to do things right?
He smiled again, as he thought of his beautiful daughter at home, and
of Dana. He'd always miss his old life, but he certainly wouldn't want
to give up what he had now. A part of him still longed for closure with
his other life, yet he understood now that he could only travel forward.
And what's more, he wanted to travel forward. 'Don't look back, Fox,'
he thought to himself. Letting go of the past was a hard task, and he
still had far to go, but at least he was on the right path. He considered
the title of a favourite movie of his which seemed to apply. 'After all,'
he mused with a smile, 'you only live twice.'
Fox continued to walk, as the light rain softly pelted his face. Then,
acting on an instinct, he stopped and just stood, staring up at the
clouds, rain caressing his face and streaming down his cheeks. He
smiled broadly, and tears falling from his own eyes intermixed with the
raindrops and were washed away. In complete contrast with a similar
scene in his not-so-distant past, these tears weren't the symptom of
some gnawing, all consuming fear and torment, but of happiness. He
stood completely still for a long time, tears rolling down his cheeks
and his mind almost devoid of conscious thought but for a vague
awareness of his surroundings. He could have stood there forever,
content to just be at that moment, if it weren't for the prospect of seeing
his family at home. Instead, he moved off again after a long while,
repressing with a laugh the urge to reenact Gene Kelly's street scene
from 'Singing in the Rain'.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Weeks passed, and slowly Fox was beginning to adapt back to his
life. He'd moved back into his and Dana's room, and every night
faced the problem of lulling Emily into at least a light sleep by the time
the sun rose. It would appear that, like her father, Emily was already
developing into a chronic insomniac. Mulder only hoped that his
unfortunate habit wouldn't curse his daughter for life as it had him.
Fox had also made arrangements to start working full time at the FBI
as of the next year, and to give up the teaching job with which he had
never really felt fulfilled - a move he saw as a positive step forward.
Finally, and perhaps most importantly, Fox had found he'd recovered
virtually all memories of his life pre-Agent Mulder.
Life was finally beginning to even out, and Fox found himself able to
concentrate more completely on his family and the things important to
him. There were of course still times when Fox thought of his other
existence, though, with a slightly mournful mindset.
One night, Fox sat lost in though on the sofa close to midnight as
Scully joined him.
"Hey," she began.
Mulder looked up and gave a weak smile. Noticing the sad, far away
look in his eyes, Dana understood immediately what was running
through his mind. Months had passed since Fox had awoken from his
coma, and she'd become fairly well attuned to his thoughts and the
accompanying expressions in that time.
She smiled back. "Ya know, I was just thinking, I'd love to hear all
about the escapades of Agents Mulder and Scully one day. I bet
Scully was the real star. Strong willed, sexy, and fiercely intelligent
no doubt?" Her lips turned up at the corners into a small, supportive
grin, and her eyes sparkled playfully.
Mulder looked down at the floor and grinned too. "Yeah, I guess you
could say that."
Scully continued: "I really mean that, Fox, I'd love to know about them.
I'm always here if you feel you need to talk."
Mulder looked up into Scully's eyes, and was overwhelmed by a
strange, sentimental feeling. "And I'd love more than anything to tell
you about them, Dana." He paused. "Basically, think the storyline of
Star Wars, with myself as Luke Skywalker - a young, naive man
pulled into a web of intrigue, forced to fight against the odds to save
the world, discovering to his horror that his father was the leader of the
dark side. Learning to understand the world through the tutelage of
some wise old mentors, finding bit by bit that, like it or not, he's the
centre of the most influential conflict in human history, and the only
one with the power to prevent the forces of evil from engaging an
apparently inevitable armageddon. A voyage of discovery of epic
proportions, and his struggle to fight for what seemed a futile cause...
to fight the future, if you will." Suddenly realising he was still talking,
he glanced over at Dana, slightly embarrassed. He cleared his throat,
and she grinned broadly.
"But, uh, I digress." He smiled playfully. "I guess you could say it was
Star Wars, mixed with... well, mixed with the 'Alien' movies," he added
with a chuckle, picturing an exploded chest from which a new
extraterrestrial biological entity had been born, then fell silent.
"You know, the thing is... I'd really love to have known what finally
happened to them. I mean, to us. Did they find the truth? Did they
realise their quest and prevent the planed armageddon? Did they
ever, uh, get it on?" He laughed softly to himself, and once again fixed
his eyes on the floor. "I know it sounds silly. They *were* only a
dream..." He trailed off.
"No Fox, I don't think it's stupid. They were so much more than a
dream to you. For that time, you *were* Special Agent Fox Mulder.
And their quest was your life."
"But I'll still never know how it all ended."
They sat in silence for a long while. "Maybe you do," she finally said.
Mulder eyed her questioningly. "Maybe I do what?"
"Maybe you do know what happened."
He stared at her blankly. "I-I don't follow."
"Well, they were part of *your* mind. Effectively, your creation. You
have the power to control their fate, you always did. Look deep inside
yourself... and I think you'll find your answers."
There was another long silence.
"Ya know Dana, I think you're right. It's all inside me, and it's up to me
to decide *my* characters' fate. It's all within my power." And
somehow, he found comfort in that thought.
"Well, it's getting late, we should really get some rest," Scully said,
elevating herself off the couch and to her feet. "Coming?"
"Yeah, in a little while. There's... um... something I'd like to do first."
She bent down and kissed him softly on the forehead. "Ok, I'll see
you in a while." With that, she turned and made her way down the hall
to their bedroom.
After a few moments, Mulder finally got up. He moved slowly over to
his computer in the corner of the room and booted it up. He chuckled
slightly, having never quite gotten used to the reality that, unlike his
counterpart, he was far less adept in keyboard skills. Still, for a four
finger typer, he was surprisingly fast.
He sat in front of the glowing screen for a long time, staring at nothing
in particular. Then suddenly, he began to write.
The X-Files
Chapter 1: A New Beginning
Special Agent Dana Katherine Scully cautiously entered the stuffy,
poorly lit basement office of one Fox William Mulder. Her eyes slowly
scanned the room, noting first the general mess, and then the specific
items which cluttered her surroundings. Paper and photos were
strewn everywhere, some pinned to walls but others just left to lie
wherever they had been last examined. She ventured further into the
room, at which point her eyes were drawn to a crookedly pinned
poster dominating the wall behind the main desk. It showed a typical
scene (to those familiar with UFO mythology) of a slightly out of focus
flying saucer hovering just above the tree line in a clear day sky.
Printed below the tree line were the words 'I Want To Believe'. Agent
Scully observed this with a raised eyebrow but said nothing. Finally,
her eyes came to rest on the back of a man hunched over a light table,
apparently absorbed in viewing slides.
"Hello?" she called.
Agent Mulder grinned to himself, never once moving his eyes from the
slides he had been examining.
"Sorry, noone down here but the FBI's most unwanted..."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The End
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Dreaming Aloud: Epilogue
Over a thousand pages and a year later, Fox's 'life story' was nearing
completion. He'd put it all down: all the memories he treasured, all
the truths he and Scully had boldly and gallantly sought to bring to
light, all the dreams that he'd sacrificed, and all the fragile hopes
which had been trampled again and again in the name of a greater
good. He'd sat up late night after night, as it was only in darkness he
found himself able to write the way he did, and had poured his heart
into the pages, each and every word conveying a thousand bottled
emotions -- the emotions of a life time.
As Dana had suggested, he had looked to himself and his own
experiences, journeyed deep into the recesses of a scarred and
damaged soul, to find the answers and conclusions he'd longed for. It
was a painful and often frightening process, out of which had resulted
many nights of lost sleep and draining tears. But at the end of it all,
Fox had emerged from his written reverie with an overwhelming
sense of acceptance and closure.
One night in December, he sat awake reading over and over his
written thoughts, contemplating nothing in particular but his mind
churning wildly. Finally, he reached a point where his thought
processes came to an abrupt halt, and his eyes darted upward from
his screen. As he'd been reading, it had occurred to him that the story
was much too close to him. He didnÕt feel it was right to sign the name
of his main character on his work - these were far too private and
personal experiences. He would prefer a certain sense of anonymity -
- even if noone ever read his words other than himself.
"Perhaps a nom de plume?" he asked himself aloud. He shrugged.
Why not. Considering what name to place in the by line, the images
of the most inspirational and influential men in his life flew through his
mind. His three work colleagues, or as he'd known them in his other
existence, the LoneGunMen, were the first to surface, and Mulder
smiled at the thought of all their names. No matter how much he
respected his friends, the names Melvin and Ringo were just way too
goofy, and John was simply...plain. Next, he considered Deep Throat,
and then realised with a start that he didn't even know his name, so
dismissed that possibility. Other faces flew by, until finally his mind
came to rest on the image of his father, Chris Mulder. Fox smiled.
Besides the fact that he cared deeply for his father now, it would
convey a certain poetic justice for him to use the name of the story's
villain. Yes, that was perfect, at least for the first name.
Moving on to surnames, Fox realised with a frown that the surnames
of everyone he knew had already been used in his story. Turning his
attention to his TV, which was softly humming in the background, in an
attempt to clear his head and perhaps find inspiration, Mulder noted a
typically, over sensationalistic add for E.R. It was complete with the
cliched heartbeat overlay and dramatic voiceover, as images of
doctors and patients, each with intense looks, flashed from one to
another with a stylised, washed out colour pattern for effect. Fox
couldn't help but grin.
"Can Carter save the life of a..." the voice was saying, dramatic
emphasis on every word.
'Carter...' Fox thought to himself absently. It did go nicely with Chris,
he realised, and he'd always liked the name. 'Carter it is.' He
scrolled to the top of his page, and wrote there: The X-Files, by Chris
Carter. Who knows, he considered further, maybe eventually he
would publish his work.
On the heels of that thought, another occurred to him. Perhaps one
day someone could even turn his life's story into a movie, or a
series of movies, or maybe even a TV series. He chuckled slightly to
himself. Although, he might have to do something about the title.
'The X-Files,' he noted with a wry grin. 'Sounds suspiciously like a
porno flick.'
By Jane Goodwin
Disclaimer: This is fanfic. No copyright infringement, yadda yadda.
"In that book which is my memory
On the first page of the chapter
That is the day when I first met you
Appear the words:
Here begins a new life. "
~ Dante Alighieri 'La Vita Nuova'
"From an endless beach of reality, we take
a grain of sand and call it the world."
~ Robert Pirsig
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
For the longest of times, Mulder remained still, staring silently at the
little girl beside him. He could have stayed like that forever but for a
nagging feeling in the back of his mind. He felt something he couldn't
remember feeling since he left his other life. He was compelled to find
the truth. The truth about his sister. He had to know for sure if that
dream the night before, as painful as it was for him, was the truth.
Although this feeling overwhelmed him, something held him back. He
wanted desperately to hold onto the calm stillness of early morning in
which he lay with his daughter. A large part of him wanted to hide in
the shadows, never knowing for sure. Ignorance is bliss, he mused to
himself. What was it the cigarette smoking man and his cronies said?
Deny everything? At that moment, it seemed like a pretty sound
philosophy to him. If he never found out for sure, he could always just
deny it all to himself. His psychological training told him that was
unhealthy, but he didn't care. Yet he also wanted closure, as though
a part of him would never be complete otherwise. He had to know,
and there was only one way.
Slowly he lifted himself over the back of the couch, careful not to
disturb Emily's sleep. She stirred slightly but did not wake, much to
Mulder's relief. He grabbed his coat from the stand next to the door,
thankful he hadn't bothered to change out of his clothes the night
before. Just as he was about to leave the apartment, he stopped,
turning back around to the little girl on the couch. She was still
sleeping, but it occurred to Mulder how irresponsible it was just
leaving her on there like that. He walked back over to her and
bundled the little girl in his arms. As quietly as possible, he carried
her down the corridor and into her bedroom. He laid her down on the
bed and pulled her blankets gently around her. As he looked down at
the small head protruding from under the covers, a broad smile
engulfed his face. He lent down and kissed her gently. She stirred,
opening her eyes just a crack.
" 'night daddy," she murmured.
"Goodnight Emily," Mulder replied softly, before turning and making
his way hurriedly back down the corridor and to the door. Quietly, he
pulled the door shut behind him and made his way to the elevator.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The house loomed before him, illuminated by the nearly full moon
above. An echoing splash ensued as the cab pulled abruptly into the
curb, the overflowing gutter the only remaining evidence of the heavy
rain of earlier that night. Presently, a mere sprinkle fell on the
glistening pavement. The light droplets gently pelted the window from
which Mulder gazed, and he was almost too lost in thought to notice
the car had stopped. The sight of the neat, old building in front of him
conjured up a cavalcade of images and memories, long hidden in the
depths of Mulder's subconscious. He'd actually been quite amazed to
find he remembered the address, surely a testament to his recovering
memory. His reminiscing was quickly interrupted by the harsh, gruff
tones of the cab driver's voice.
"Hey, are you going to be getting out of here already or what?" he
asked impatiently.
Mulder turned his head slowly toward the driver and, noticing the
annoyed and weary frown on the man's face, he hurried to regain his
presence of mind. He couldn't blame him for his attitude, it *was* after
4 in the morning after all.
"Yeah, of course, sorry. How much do I owe you?"
"Six sixty, thanks."
Mulder fished around in his wallet for the correct change, handed it to
the driver with a small smile, and exited the vehicle. He stood there
staring up at the house long after the cab had moved off. An icy shiver
ran through him, and he automatically pulled the warm protection of
his coat tighter around his body, even though he knew physical
coldness had nothing to do with his shivering. With a small sigh, he
began to ascend the drive.
Reaching the door, his finger hesitated on the small, round button
momentarily, before pressing squarely on it repeatedly. A long
moment passed before Mulder saw a light go on inside, and a figure
in white head towards him, albeit muffled by the frosty, slightly
translucent glass surrounding the old wooden door. A woman in her
sixties, bleary-eyed as one would expect from someone who had just
been startled awake, opened the door and stood staring at him. A
mixture of shock and expectancy was evident on her face as she
looked deep into Mulder's alert and vibrant eyes. Mulder smiled
sheepishly at his mother.
"Fox... do you realise what time it is?"
"It's just after four. I'm sorry to wake you, but this couldn't wait." He
pushed his way past Mrs Mulder and on into the house. He stopped
abruptly and turned back to his mother. "Where's... um, dad." He
stumbled over the last word.
Teena closed the door and then joined her son down the main
corridor. "His sister, Cassandra, fell ill and he went to be with her.
You know, she lives in Chicago. Jeffrey called us last night and Chris
was off first thing this morning."
Mulder pondered his mother's last comment with a mixture of
amusement and something close to fear. The thought of CSM rushing
off out of concern to help an ailing family member was laughable, and
scary at the same time. He remained as unfazed as possible about
the barrage of familiar names which had accompanied Teena's
explanation, and instead headed for the kitchen. Once there, he
quickly took up residence of one of four chairs placed around a
circular table.
Teena followed, shivering slightly. "I'll, um, put the kettle on. You
need to warm up. Would you like a herbal tea, Fox?"
Mulder nodded. "Yeah, that'd be nice mom. Thanks."
Mrs Mulder busied herself with finding cups and boiling water as Fox
sat, ordering his thoughts. It was some time before he finally spoke.
"Mom... how did Samantha die?"
She stopped abruptly. The few, heavy drops of rain outside, each a
separate and identifiable splash on the pavement, echoed ominously
in the silence which engulfed the room as Mrs Mulder stared at her
son. "Samantha, eh?" she responded, diverting her eyes to the mug in
her hand. She looked up and smiled at her son. "That was a long
time ago."
"Please mom, I just need to know."
Teena joined Fox at the table, sitting opposite him. Once again, there
was another long silence. "She was 8 and you were 12 at the time.
We - you, me, and Samantha - were on our way home from some,
um, school function or something like that. I can't exactly remember
the details now."
She shifted in her chair. "It was late, we were in the car, there was,
um, another car and it just suddenly swerved in front of us. Turned out
the driver was drunk, the usual way it goes. We collided with it, the car
flipped, and... well... when I came to in hospital some time later I was
told that Samantha was dead. That she'd hit her head with the
impact, or...or... something like that. "
She recounted the last few words as she finally looked up into her
son's eyes. "She was gone just like that."
Mulder smiled comfortingly at his mother, reaching out his hand to
grasp hers which was rested on the table. "I know it's not a very
pleasant topic of conversation, mom. I just had to know. You see, I...
dreamt about it last night. The night of the crash, I mean. And I just...
didn't know whether what I was seeing was real or not. Whether I
could trust my subconscious. But you know, a lot of thing make sense
now." He looked down suddenly at his lap and moved his hand
slowly over his face.
"Fox... what's wrong? What is it?" Slowly and sombrely he began to
recount the events of his sister's abduction in his other life. He told
her how she had been taken from him when he was 12 and she was
8, and how he'd been completely powerless to do anything. The
parallels were all there, set out plainly in his story. The blinding light,
being unable to move due to something restraining his body, even the
ages were the same. It was so clear exactly how his subconscious
had formulated such a scenario. When he'd finished, he looked up at
Mrs Mulder, who sat silently absorbing what her son had just related
to her.
"Fox... I think I'm starting to understand how hard this transition has
been for you. Such strong memories - traumatic memories - of
another lifetime... I can only imagine just how disconcerting that would
be for you. Suddenly yanked from one world, complete in it's detail,
and told it was never real. I really am amazed that you've coped as
well as you have."
She smiled at him softly, and Mulder smiled back. "I'll, um, get that
tea." She got up and busied herself once again preparing their
drinks.
Fox turned around to her, thoughtfully. "Mum, could you tell me more
about, well, the aftermath of the accident. The effects on the family, I
mean."
Teena returned with the tea and handed one cup to Fox, who
acknowledged it with a smile. She sat again, taking a sip from her
cup.
"It effected all of us terribly, needless to say. But... Chris was the
worst. Samantha had always been his little girl. They'd been very
close. I think he blamed himself, in a way. He hadn't made time to
come that night, and sort of thought that maybe if he had been there,
then he perhaps might have prevented it. I'm not a psychiatrist and I
don't pretend to be, but that's what I always thought. It was irrational
and pointless, but I don't think he ever forgave himself. He became
distant and reclusive, uncommunicative. It's just he couldn't get over
it, and he let all of his other relationships suffer for it. Especially with
you. That was actually the reason for your rift, you know. You always
felt angry that he let his grief consume him so much that he was never
there for you. You had a huge blow up about it around 6 years ago -
on Thanksgiving of all times." She allowed a small, wry smile play
across her features. "You've barely spoken since."
Mulder listened intently to all his mother had to say, distracted only by
sips of the warm, soothing liquid in his mug. As she spoke, he
actually found himself transported back to a time six years before, and
it had indeed been Thanksgiving, just as Mrs Mulder had recalled.
Images of CSM and himself, yelled words and heated argument
flashed in quick succession in his mind's eye. To Fox, it suddenly
made vivid sense why his subconscious would portray CSM in the
light it did. In reality they'd had an unhappy and distant relationship -
all stemming back to Samantha. He recalled out loud to him mother
how CSM had been the leader of a group of government conspirators,
and how he'd been involved in the root of Samantha's abduction and
indeed his life's quest. Teena nodded, once again understanding the
connections.
"Fox, when you had your accident... well, you don't know how badly
that effected him. Losing another child in the same way... it was more
than he could bare. As harsh as this might sound, it actually took your
crash for him to realise how distant your relationship had been. That
he'd never reconciled with you, that was terribly hard on him. The
relief he felt when you woke up... I can't even begin to tell you. He just
didn't know how to make the first step to mend things in your
relationship."
Mulder fell silent, his mind whirling. He thought for a long time about
his mother's words. Finally, he spoke quietly, his voice distant and
small - almost like a child's. "Mom... when's Dad getting back?"
"Oh, well, he should be back today, I think. Possibly tomorrow, I'm not
too sure." She glanced at her watch, noticing that the time was close
to five.
Mulder looked at his own watch and was genuinely shocked at how
late (or indeed early, depending on one's point of view) it was. "Oh
my god, Mom, I'm so sorry to keep you talking like this. I shouldn't
have woken you."
Mrs Mulder placed a reassuring hand on Fox's arm. "Not at all, Fox,
I'm glad you came. I only hope I've been of some help to you."
He rose from his chair and kissed her gently on the cheek.
"Thankyou."
"Anyway, I better get going," he said as he reached for his coat which
was lying on the table. "I can see myself out." He smiled at his mother,
turned, and left.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Alone in the half light of early morning, as the world made the slow
transition from night to into day, Fox Mulder walked along the shinning
pavement. He watched as the streetlights glistened in the sidewalk,
and listened as the few birds which lived in the city awoke from their
night's slumber with a rustling and soft chirping. For once he felt
somewhat at peace with himself and the world stirring around him,
and soaked up the pleasant feeling for as long as he was able. He
wasn't quite sure how long he'd been strolling along, only that the city
was now a much lighter shade of grey than it had been when he'd
started out on this journey.
He continued to walk on through the city streets, surveying his
surroundings with an absent eye. His thoughts became slightly more
grounded as he remembered more specifically his talk with his
mother. She said a lot, and he was only just now beginning to sift
through it all. Through all he recalled, his thoughts kept centring on
all that she'd suggested about his father. He couldn't shake the
thought of *CSM* actually caring about anyone else other than
himself. Of course, he continually reminded himself that his father
wasn't the shady smoking guy he'd known before, but it was still
utterly difficult to fathom. He sighed, and continued walking.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fox put off visiting his father for over a week, not being quite able to
summon the will power to make the journey to his parent's house and
face the risk of rejection. Night after night Mulder's dreams were filled
with snippets of their fight that Thanksgiving, and as a result he
thought about nothing much else through most of his waking time, too.
All day at work (which he had recently returned to) he halfheartedly
read through files, while all the time playing out different scenarios in
his mind about what he would say if he indeed gathered the courage
to go to see his father. After nearly two straight weeks of this
brooding, he finally felt ready to do it.
However, in the interim, Fox had spent a solid day on his own,
scouring over old photo albums of his life with Emily and Dana.
Startlingly to him, Fox had found that, as he stared at each snapshot,
nearly always an accompanying, vivid scene would play across his
mind. These rich and clear memories filled his thoughts like scenes
from a movie, the clarity almost astonishing. But what he remembered
didn't just end with the photos, but the colour images prompted a
further array of memories spanning a life time, and Fox allowed
himself to revel in the wonderful times he'd had, and be swept up in
events less positive in nature. Still, Mulder was ecstatic to find that he
had begun to remember much of his life, and these memories served
to reiterate further the need to patch up old wounds between himself
and his father. Deciding it was time, he promised himself that the very
next day he would pay a visit to him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fox knocked tentatively, his hand just discernibly shaking as he lifted
it. About a minute later, the door opened, revealing Christopher
George Benjamin Mulder, his face an interesting shade of grey no
doubt from lack of sleep and years of heavy smoking. Just like him -
and now it appeared just like his daughter - Mulder's father suffered
from chronic insomnia. It was a family trait, and Fox had accepted it
years ago as his inevitable lot in life. Sure, being able to survive on
little sleep was often an edge, but Mulder often longed to just be able
to sleep one night, straight through. Perhaps then, he often mused,
his life might start to make some sense.
"Fox," Mr Mulder observed, half as a question and partly as a plain
stating of fact.
"Hi Dad," Fox replied with a half smile.
The two men stood, staring at one another silently for nearly 30
seconds. Finally, CSM seemed to break out of a trance, and turn
sharply. "Well, uh, come in," he half coughed, his voice gravelly and
weary. They entered the house and began walking side by side to the
living room. "If you're looking for your mother, she's out with a friend."
They stopped, reaching their destination, a comfortable looking room,
glass windows tiled along one wall allowing a steady stream of
sunlight in.
Fox turned to his father, and looked directly into his eyes, which in
colour bore a striking resemblance to his own. "No, actually, Dad... I,
uh, came to talk to you." As he spoke, he fidgeted nervously with his
tie.
"Oh?" Chris Mulder asked, surprised.
Mulder looked at his father and swallowed hard. "Ok, Dad, I just... I
want to say what I'm about to say, and I don't want you to interrupt till
I'm finished, ok?" CSM nodded in response, and Mulder continued.
"Right, well, ok then." He paused nervously. "Now, um... certain recent
events in my life have made me start to, um, reevaluate... everything.
Since the accident, I've thought about our relationship, and I just can't
help but feel sad, ya know? Somehow we let a wall build up between
us, and a rift enter our lives, and... well, I've begun to realise that life's
too short to hold onto that kind of useless, borderline malevolence.
How did we become so estranged, Dad? We were so close when I
was kid, when Samantha was..." He stopped mid sentence, frowning
at the tack he'd ended up taking. This didn't appear to be going too
well. Never the less, he continued on, plunging into the next thought.
"I can't really explain this to you, but, uh, since I was in the coma, I feel
I have a newfound understanding of just what you went through after
Sam died." Fox gulped back tears as images of Samantha being
lifted from her bed; Scully's sister lying dead at the hands of his own
enemies; Deep Throat; Scully lying in a hospital bed comatose, the
life virtually drained from her by a force he'd brought her into contact
with, inadvertently or not, all flew through his mind along with
numerous others. "I understand now the pain and the guilt you must
have gone through, whether it was founded or not. Well, what I'm
getting at is, I'm sorry I ever held that against you, and I'm sorry I didn't
tell you all this years ago." Fox had been avoiding his father's eyes
throughout his little speech, but finally raised his gaze to meet his.
Chris Mulder turned his head away slightly, his eyes frosty with the
unshed tears of a lifetime. When he finally spoke, his voice was
scratchy and choking. "Fox, when you were in the car accident, I
actually thought I'd never see you again, and never get a chance to
make things right with you. I've wanted for so many years to
apologise for never being a good enough father for you. I let my grief
consume me... and it just about cost me everything else that I held
dear in this world. You and your mother... I always wished there was
some way I could have made it up to you."
"We've both made mistakes, Dad, but... I'm willing to move forward, if
you are," he asked it as a question, but his tone came out as more of a
plea than anything else. It seemed to Fox at that moment that if he
could just do this right, then maybe his whole life might start making
sense. He just knew that he had to make peace with his father.
Mulder's father stared into his face, a single, lonely tear falling from
his eye. They smiled at each other, and embraced warmly. Mulder
grinned, as his father began to chuckle lightly. In time, Mulder began
to chuckle too, and they stood there together, just laughing quite
contentedly, for a long time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Later that afternoon, Fox returned home to hear Dana talking on the
phone. Actually, talking wasn't exactly the word, and Fox couldn't
help but feel the slightest bit sorry for the person on the other end.
"No goddamn it, you're not listening to me! I have an appointment
with my daughter's school tomorrow, and I'm asking you - no
*demanding* - that you reschedule!"
Fox grinned at the little red head of terror, and could only imagine
what sort of fear she incited in people who didn't know her the way he
did. Just looking at her back practically made him shiver.
"Well make it happen! I don't care..." Dana, visibly frustrated, allowed
her voice to soften as she attempted a different tact. "Please, if you'd
just talk to him. I understand that this appointment has been in place
for some time now, but I'm only asking to reschedule by a day. A few
hours, even. I mean, god, how busy can the dean of a University
be??? And it's semester break, for heavens sakes. Just talk to him..."
Fox frowned at what he heard. Dana had been asked to meet with the
Dean, as well as various other school officials, to discuss the
possibility of becoming the head of medicine at Washington Uni, as
well as being granted an extensive research grant.
"Dana?" Fox asked tentatively.
Not having noticed him in the room until that point, her head shot
around and she was visibly startled. She stared at Fox, blankly,
before calmly saying into the phone, "Could you just hold on a
minute?" Lowering the receiver and holding the microphone with her
flattened hand, she nodded for him to continue.
Mulder swallowed hard and lowered his eyes to stare at his feet, a
sight which had become vary familiar to him over the past month or
so. "Um... I could, uh, take Emily to her school interview."
Dana looked at him for a moment, then asked softly, "You... you sure
you'd be ok with that? Cos I'm sure I'll be able to change this
appointment-"
Fox cut her off, bringing his gaze back up to meet hers. "Yeah, I'm
sure." He smiled. "I'd be happy to."
Dana smiled back appreciatively and proudly, as she knew just how
large and difficult a step this was for her husband. "That would be
great. Thankyou."
She lifted the phone back up to her ear. "Um... yeah, I'm here. Right,
well, there have been some new developments, and I no longer need
the appointment changed. Thankyou for your time." She hung up the
phone, and turned back to Fox.
"You're sure about this?" she asked gently.
He nodded. "I'm sure."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next day, Mulder accompanied Emily to school. He felt like a big
kid himself, sitting on one of those tiny chairs made especially for 1st
graders, or so it always seemed, and gazing at displays of paper craft
and cellophane splashed about the rooms to impress visiting parents.
As Emily played happily with some lego in a tucked away corner of
the room, Fox sat and talked to her teacher nearby. Mrs Hoover was a
stout, round, and smiley sort of person - somebody one might
describe as 'jolly'. Rather severely bobbed, chocolate coloured hair
swung loosely above her shoulders, and the perpetual smile on her
face gave her the impression of one of those side-show clowns at a
fair ground.
"Emily is a wonderful girl," Mrs Hoover was saying. "She's very bright
you know. Oh yes, possibly the brightest I have this year. She's
communicative, expressive, has mature reasoning skills." She
stopped and frowned.
Mulder looked at her cynically. "And I sense a 'but' coming here."
Mrs Hoover smiled at Mulder, not unkindly, but slightly patronising
none the less. "She just doesn't seem to want to make any real
friendships. Oh, don't get me wrong, she's very friendly and
cooperative with the other children, but she just doesn't seem to have
the desire to make any strong friendships."
Fox thought back to his own first years at school, and sighed. He
remembered sitting alone most lunchtimes, just... well, thinking.
Looking back on it now, it did seem rather absurd for a 6 year old boy
to be sitting and thinking out of his own free will, but that was none the
less what he'd done. In fact, he didn't remember ever really making
strong friendships until reaching high school. Yet, he was never an
unhappy child, and everything he'd done as a kid had been his own
prerogative. He remembered how all of his teachers had taken his
voluntary isolation as a sign of loneliness, and recalled with a grin the
many times they themselves had attempted to intervene and forge
friendships *for* him.
"Well," Mulder replied, adding a hint of condescension to his voice,
"I'm sure when Emily feels she wants to make lasting friendships, then
she will."
"Yes, you're probably right," Mrs Hoover agreed, turning back on the
over-friendly smile and charm that she'd let slip for just a second.
'Only grade school teachers have that smile,' Fox thought to himself
wryly, but smiled pleasantly back.
"Anyway, Emily talks about you all the time. I see from her school
records that you're a teacher of some sort?"
"Psychologist, actually, but not practising. I lecture at Washington Uni,
and I'm also involved part-time in the FBI's violent crimes division as a
psychological profiler. Ya know, that's where you delve into the minds
of serial killers and unstable murderers to uncover their motives and
the details of their violent killing sprees," he allowed the words to roll
of his tongue casually and monotonously, as if he was describing his
work as an accountant.
The teacher's eyes went wide as he completed his personal spiel,
and Fox grinned inwardly at his still razor-sharp ability to make other's
speechless. He especially enjoyed this moment, and revelled in Mrs
Hoover's amazement for a long time as he held her gaze
unflinchingly. He could almost see her mind ticking over, and hear
her thinking 'so that's where the girl gets it'.
At that moment, Emily came racing over to them from the other side of
the room.
"Daddy, Daddy, come see what I've made," she urged excitedly,
grabbing her father by the hand.
Fox smiled. "Oh course honey, let's see what you made." He allowed
Emily to escort him across the room, pulling him by the arm, and Mrs
Hoover followed close behind.
Mulder looked down at Emily's creation of lego, and smiled again.
"It's a flying-saucer," Emily offered, beaming with pride.
Fox beamed himself, pride like he'd never felt before reverberating
from within him. "So it is!" he replied, "and such a beautiful spaceship
at that." He continued to beam, and Emily hugged tight to him. He
hugged her back. "That's my girl," he said, ruffling her hair playfully
with his hand.
Fox didn't stop smiling for about a week.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
About two weeks later, Scully sat motionless in front of her computer
screen, except for the rhythmic tapping of her fingers over the
keyboard as they darted from key to key. As she wrote, almost without
knowing it, she began to sing softly to herself, as was often the case
when she was concentrating on work but subconsciously wanting to
be some place else. Absently, she half spoke the words whilst the
accompanying tones of light country and pop music filled her head
like a narcotic. "David Duchovny, why won't you love me? Why won't
you love me, why won't you love me?" She continued to hum for
some time, barely noticing the darkening room around her, until finally
she could scarcely make out the keyboard. That was the moment
Mulder entered.
Smiling pleasantly, Fox removed his coat and placed it on it's usual
hook beside the door. "Hey."
"Oh, hey," Scully answered, squinting into the light coming through
the open door from the hallway outside.
"Whatcha up to?"
"Oh, ya know, the usual. Nothing particularly fascinating. Routine sort
of work, mind numbing to say the least."
He moved deeper into the apartment, closing the door behind him. It
was when he banged into the coffee table that the absence of light
registered in his mind. He looked in surprise at Dana. "How long
have you been sitting there?!" He groped around on the wall behind
him until his hand found the switch. Both squinted at the sudden
luminescence of their surroundings.
"Hmmm?" She asked absently, concentrating once again on her work.
"It's eight thirty you know."
Dana looked up in surprise. "It is?! Wow, I must have lost track of
time. Last thing I knew it was five." She pushed back on her chair
and stretched her arms above her, suddenly aware of the stiffness in
them.
"God, you need to take a break. How's about we go have dinner
somewhere. We might as well, seeing Emily's spending the night at
your parents'."
She smiled in agreement, then frowned as she was brought back to
reality by the glowing screen in front of her. "Oh, look, that'd be great,
but I can't. This stuff has to be finished by tomorrow."
"Come on, Dana! Live a little! Carpe Diem, live for today." He
grinned at her playfully. "You need to forget about all that, live in the
moment!"
Scully grinned back, then replied just as playfully in her best British
accent: "But Master Yoda said I should be mindful of the future!"
Still smiling, Fox eyed her questioningly. "What?"
"I said 'Master Yoda said'..." She trailed off when her words were met
by uncomprehending eyes. "Episode one..."
Mulder's eyes widened at the mention of the Star Wars prequel, and
an expression of shock crossed his features. "You mean.... I don't
believe it! Oh my god, I don't believe it! That's, that's... impossible! I
completely forgot about the new Star Wars movie! I missed it and I
didn't even notice!"
"God, that's right! You haven't seen it!" She weighed up the situation
in her mind momentarily, before closing the lid of her laptop
decisively. "Come on, it's playing two blocks away. There's bound to
be a session starting soon." She stood and began to move towards
the door.
Mulder swung around in surprise. "But I thought you had crucial work
to do?!" he exclaimed with a grin.
"Carpe diem, Fox! This is far more important! Such earth shattering
pop culture takes precedence over everything else! No, the work can
wait. Right now you and I need to be far from here. In a galaxy far, far
away, if you will." She spoke with her back to Mulder as she swiftly
moved through the doorway, grabbing her coat as she moved.
Mulder stared after her in bewilderment. Moments later, Dana's head
reappeared in the open apartment door. "Are you coming or what?"
she asked, feigning impatience.
Fox furrowed an eyebrow at Scully's impulsive actions, grinned at the
ridiculous role reversal which had just occurred within the space of
about thirty seconds, and then moved quickly after her, closing the
door behind him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"My god, I can't believe I'd completely forgotten about episode 1!!! I've
been waiting for that for nearly 20 years, and it takes me this long to
remember it!" Fox and Dana strolled out of the cinema complex and
began to walk down the street. Together they walked, Fox sporting a
jubilant and ecstatic grin, while Dana, who could hardly help being
the slightest bit effected by his contagious excitement, smiled happily.
"Well, was it worth the wait?" Scully asked.
"Oh, definitely! Well... alright, objectively, there were some things
which could have done with improving." He paused momentarily,
taking in a deep lung full of the crisp air. "Jar-Jar, for instance." He
shuddered at the mention of the rabbit/Teletubby hybrid who would no
doubt fill his nightmares for years to come. It was beyond him what
George Lucas had been thinking. "And, ok, the whole taxation thing
was a bit... weak, to say the least." Fox gesticulated widely with his
arms as he spoke, his bright eyes flashing with excited fever. "And...
yeah, ok, the characters were somewhat, um..." He frowned, as he
searched for the right word. "Underdeveloped. If Anakin had said
'yippie' or 'wizard' one more time I would've killed someone, Darth
Maul was only there to provide an aggressor for the lightsaber
scenes, Terrance Stamp was dearly underused. The 'conceived of
the midichlorians' concept... I mean, what was that, anyway?! That
came goddamn close to ruining the whole experience for me, I can tell
ya! And-" He stopped when he noticed an amused grin appearing on
Scully"s face.
"What?" he asked playfully. Scully began to giggle, an act which lit up
her face in a way Mulder had rarely ever seen before. He liked it.
Whilst Mulder had been analysing the movie, they'd continued
walking and were now nearing Reggie's.
"You should hear yourself! Glad to see your cynical streak isn't
fading."
"Oh, I'm not saying I didn't enjoy myself thoroughly! God, when the
Lucasfilm logo appeared, and the ol' theme began playing... really,
Dana I could've cried! Of course I didn't, because you were sitting
next to me." He grinned. "I wouldn't have wanted to seem like a loser
or anything."
Dana grinned even wider, but turned her head away from Fox to hide
the slight embarrassment appearing in her eyes. She certainly wasn't
about to let Fox know that she, herself, had had the exact same
reaction upon her first viewing of the movie.
Mulder stopped outside Reggie's. "You want to get a drink or
something?"
Scully smiled. "Yeah, that'd be nice, Fox."
The two entered and took up residence of a booth located to the right
of the small bar.
"Ok, I'll go order us some drinks. What'd you like?"
Dana thought momentarily, and then replied simply: "Surprise me."
Fox grinned. "Alrighty then... milk ok with you?" he asked jokingly.
"Sounds wonderful," Scully countered with a wry smile.
Mulder nodded, then made his way over to the bar. Catching the eye
of the bartender he requested two vodka martinis, before adding:
"Stirred, not shaken." The bartend simply nodded absently, evidently
either not getting Mulder's pathetic little joke, or choosing to ignore it.
Fox sighed, and mumbled melodramatically something about how
misunderstood he was. "I'll be over there." Fox pointed to the booth
he'd come from, and the bartend once again nodded his
comprehension.
As Fox made his way back to Dana, he passed by the establishment's
jukebox positioned along the wall out of the way. At first, he walked
straight past barely slowing down, but something Mulder couldn't
explain made him stop and turn around. He stood in front of the
brightly lit machine, scouring the display of song titles. As he
skimmed down the list, one in particular suddenly caught his eye, and
he took in a quick, shallow gasp in surprise. He stared at the name for
a long moment. Hesitantly, he looked up at Dana who was still seated
over the other side of the room, staring at something out of sight to him
with her trademark furrowed brow. He looked from her to the jukebox
repeatedly, in two minds about what action to take. Reaching into his
pocket, he slowly withdrew a quarter. He turned the coin in his hand
indecisively, before finally placing it firmly in the coin slot and pressing
hard the number of the familiar tune. Almost instantaneously, the
strains of soothing piano notes filled the room. Mulder breathed in the
atmosphere deeply, and walked briskly over to Scully.
"Care to dance?" he asked, reaching his hand out to her.
Dana looked up at him slowly, an expression of astonishment on her
face. "Well, uh..."
Mulder didn't let her finish, as he grasped her hand and pulled her to
her feet and towards him in one swift motion. Gently, he placed his
hands on her shoulders, and Scully curled hers comfortably around
his waist. The two began to sway in synchronisation to the soft music.
"Put on my blue suede shoes and I boarded the plane.
Touched down in the land of the delta blues, middle of the pouring
rain..."
The soulful tones of Cher's powerful yet somewhat haunting style
echoed around them. They continued to dance, as Dana's face
formed into a broad smile. As Mulder stared into her eyes, he became
aware that she'd never looked so much like his old Scully than she
did at that moment. Amazingly though, for a reason he couldn't quite
define, he didn't care in the least. Fox smiled back at her.
"When I was walking in Memphis
I was walking with my feet 10 feet off of Beal.
Walking in Memphis... but do I really feel the way I feel?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A few days passed. Restlessly, Mulder flipped through the magazine,
scanning each page briefly before turning to the next. It was late at
night, close to 4am, and once again Fox was wide awake. Rather
than lie in the dark restlessly, he'd decided to instead catch up on
some reading. He wasn't entirely sure when exactly Scientific
American had entered into the realm of light reading for the middle of
the night, but enjoyed the intellectual stimulation anyway.
He flipped a page and was faced with a somewhat familiar sight. He
stared at the words on the page, before breaking into a wide grin. The
article he had stumbled across bore an almost eerily familiar name.
'Einstein's twin paradox theory: a new interpretation.' He chuckled,
and thought briefly about making the trip down the hall to Scully's
room, but faced with the reality of time decided against that option. He
instead folded down the corner of the page, and made a mental note
to show Scully in the morning.
'She'll get a real kick outa this,' he thought to himself, 'someone's
plagiarising...'
Mulder froze, eyes wide. 'Dana never wrote about Einstein..." He
gasped, realising the implication of what had just occurred.
In his mind, it would appear he'd somehow fused two of the most
important people in his life together. If his image of Dana had been
blurred with his old Scully, then how could he know anything any
more? Frantically, he considered all that he thought he'd felt for his
wife... and it occurred to him how close he'd come to replacing Scully
in his heart. Or perhaps his feelings for Dana weren't even real, and
he was merely expressing to her what he'd felt for the Scully from his
other world. Mulder's brow dripped with sweat as a panic surged from
deep within him; his hands went clammy and cold.
Flashes of James Stewart gazing into the eyes of his long dead lover,
who had perished because of his inability to deal with his own
personal demons, played across Mulder's mind. He began to feel ill,
and not just because of the lurching camera work and swirling,
psychedelic colours that accompanied the mental scenes. What if all
he'd been doing all this time was using Dana as a substitute for
Scully? Oh God, he thought, and squeezed his eyes shut, his heart
racing.
On the heels of that thought, the image of another Hitchcock character
appeared in Mulder's head, and he took in a shallow gasp of air at the
picture of the innocently smiling Anthony Perkins. Was he really that
far away from Norman Bates, himself? The evil yet tragic villain had
been governed by his inability to distinguish the past from the present,
and his imaginary world from reality. Sure, Bates's delusions were
accentuated by severe mental illness, but, Mulder thought, was he
himself really that different? After all, he had allowed himself to
believe in a fantasy world, and now it would appear, his own grasp of
reality was jaded by his longing for closure in a world that never
existed. Mulder shuddered as the sharp, high pitched squeal of
plucked violin notes, that had haunted the psyche of Hitchcock fans
the world over, resonated through his mind.
His eyes shot open and darted nervously around him. "I need to get
out of here," he murmured aloud. He considered briefly where to go,
and a familiar image flashed into his mind. The summer house in
Quonochontaug. Yes, that was perfect. He jolted up and fetched his
key to his old family holiday house from a draw where he, in what was
a complete surprise to him, remembered placing it. Sure enough, it
was there. Frantically, he grabbed the key, then his coat, and left the
apartment.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As the taxi pulled away, Mulder was left standing outside the old,
deserted house, staring up at the familiar building and surroundings.
An almost eerie chill ran through him as his mind flashed with images
of Samantha, and a blur of memories shouted into a crescendo
through his thoughts. Allowing the memories to flow freely, Fox slowly
made his way to the front door. Removing the key from his pocket with
a shaky hand, he placed it in the key hole, and after a jiggle of the
rusty lock it gave way. A mustiness immediately met Mulder's senses
- both in smell as well as sight and memory, as though opening a door
to another time. He stepped inside cautiously, almost scared of what
he might find within the familiar structure. As he ventured in further,
he surveyed the plastic covered furniture and manicured cleanness
that only came with an unlived in space. Fox walked through the
lounge, noting the completely familiar furniture. Down to the very
detail, the house had been exactly identical in his other life. Opening
a cupboard he came across old toys, old articles of clothing, and other
such items, each associated with a vivid memory. Yet, to Mulder's
surprise, the memories he found his mind flooded with were not of his
old life, but of this one. He remembered being in this house with his
family, playing ball with Samantha and his father, playing cards at the
kitchen table, adorning a Christmas tree with tinsel and ornaments
one year, and being lifted up by his father - Chris Mulder - to place a
gold star atop the mass of green pine.
Wearily, Mulder collapsed on the couch, staring at nothing, and
instead allowing the pleasant memories to play out in front of him. He
saw Samantha running before him around the lounge, himself
chasing her, and the both of them being verbally scolded by their
mother who could be heard in the near distance from the kitchen.
Fox smiled despite himself. He remembered it all - and all of it was
from this world, and this life. He sat there for a long time, just thinking
and reminiscing. What must have been hours later, for now it was
approaching dusk and the sun had well begun it's descent through
the marbled sky, Fox was lightly startled by footsteps behind him. He
knew who it was without her having to say anything. Silence engulfed
the room for some time, as the figure just stood transfixed a few paces
away. Eventually, Mulder spoke.
"You know, it's exactly the same. It's just how I remembered it -
before, I mean."
"It should be, this place was very important to you. It was a symbol of
your family, and of Samantha."
Mulder exhaled sharply. "Except that both the lamps are intact," he
added, noting the twin lamps in which Agent Mulder had located an
alien weapon what seemed like a very long time ago.
Silence once again ensued. "How'd you know where I'd be?" Fox
eventually asked.
"Oh, it wasn't too hard. I figured this was where you'd go... to think."
Mulder chuckled sadly. "To think," he repeated.
Dana moved around next to Mulder and eased onto the sofa. "And
have you been thinking?" she asked softly.
Mulder stared at the ground. "Yeah."
"And...?"
"Dana... I just... I can't go back."
Dana grasped Fox's hand, forcing his eyes to hers. "You're right Fox,
you can't go back. That's the point. You can only move forward."
Mulder gazed into Dana's eyes, but found her intense and supportive
gaze too hard to bear, and he quickly averted his gaze back to the
floor.
"But I can't just forget all that I was..."
"I know you can't just forget about your other life, and you won't, but...
what about what you have here? What about Emily and Me... don't
you love us?"
Fox turned back to Dana with tears in his eyes. "Of course I do!" he
half wailed.
"And yet you're willing to give that up because you're haunted by the
past! Don't you understand, Fox, you can't go backwards, but you can
move forward."
"I cant. It's too hard!" He broke his hand away from Dana's and
jumped to his feet, turning away from her.
Dana stood too, placing a hand on Fox's back. "Of course it's hard
Fox, noone ever said it would be easy. But you're letting the past
consume you. If you walk away now you're never going to be able to
live in this world. You'll forever be haunted by demon's from your
past!" She paused, thinking for a moment, and then spoke with a
softer and more gentle edge. "Don't you see that you're doing exactly
what you despised your father for years for? He nearly lost forever
everything that was important to him, and now you're allowing your
grief to consume you and ruin your life. You hated your father for it,
but now here you are, about to go down the same path, and the scary
thing is that you aren't even aware of it."
Fox considered this for a while, before sharply pulling away from
Dana's touch. "No!" he yelled weakly, his voice choking through
tears. "I just... I can't pretend that everything's ok when it's not!"
Scully's tone softened to nearly a whisper as she moved closer to
Fox. "It'll take time Fox, but if you leave now you'll be turning you're
back on everything you know... everyone that cares about you."
Fox shook his head. "I just need to sort some stuff out."
"And you think that running away... running from the people who love
you is the answer?"
"I can't stay! I don't know..." He shook his head fiercely. He began to
cry freely now, his body convulsing weakly with sobs. "I'm afraid that
by letting myself go, letting myself love you, that I'm replacing the
memories of my other life. That I'm turning my back on all that I was. I
feel that if I allow myself to move forward, I might lose that time
forever." More tears streamed from his eyes as he spoke. "I'm afraid
to let myself love you."
Dana finally understood. She grasped his hand firmly. She moved to
face Fox, observing his face streaked with tear tracks. "Nothing will
ever replace those memories," she replied firmly, a new found resolve
in her voice. "And I would never want to. But by letting love into
you're heart... allowing yourself to feel, you're not denying your past
but embracing the present." She moved her head until she was
looking directly into Fox's eyes. "It's alright to let yourself love, Fox."
She smiled softly, lowering her head against his chest and caressing
him gently. "It's alright to stop fighting."
They stood together, silently rocking to and fro, for a long time, and
long after the last tears had dried. Eventually, Fox pulled away
slightly to look down at Dana. As he did so, he genuinely smiled at
what he saw. He stared deep into her bright eyes, perfect oceans of
blue, and no longer did he see Scully... but he saw Dana. He hadn't
forgotten Scully, she was still in his heart, but he knew he loved Dana
more than anything at that moment.
His smile turned into a contented grin, and Dana couldn't help but
smile back. "You're right, Dana, letting love into my heart won't erase
the past... but it will mould the future." He continued to smile, and the
two embraced again. "I love you," Fox finally whispered.
"I love you too, Fox, and don't ever forget that."
They both smiled, not that either would have realised the other's
expression, as they clung to each other desperately and tightly for a
long time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They'd returned to DC that night, but Fox hadn't been able to sleep
once they were home. He was too happy to sleep. Of course, he
preferred to think of it in cliched terms, something along the lines of
'his soul was too light to sleep', but however it was defined, sleep had
been impossible. He'd instead gone out walking around sunrise, and
a light rain had started up not long after he'd left the apartment
building. As he walked he thought a lot, and somehow as he strolled,
as absurd as it may have sounded, he felt he understood the human
mind. It wasn't quite something he could define, nothing he'd ever
feel comfortable writing down or communicating to others, but the
clarity with which he looked upon the world of the subconscious at
that moment was greater than he'd ever known. 'What is reality?' was
the question he found himself asking as his mind wandered further.
The more he'd pondered the idea, the more he began to realise that
there was no definitive answer. It was just like Obi-Wan had said:
"Luke, you're going to find that many of the truths we cling to in life
depend greatly on our own point of view." Fox grinned to himself at
the though of the wise old Jedi. For himself, Fox believed reality was
whatever you believed at any given moment, and thus he took comfort
in the thought that this world was no more real than any dream he
would ever indulge in. After all, he considered his life here no more or
less real than that of Special Agent Fox Mulder, and his life at the FBI.
The one who's sister was abducted by aliens, and who seemed
destined to uncover the fate of humanity.
Fox's mind drifted back to his early days of studying ancient
philosophy, and recalled the ideas of Plato, and the ideas that so
many others had suggested in their time. He looked upon them now
with new meaning. The suggestion that the real world existed only in
our imagination was as fitting a world philosophy to him as any other.
In fact, it made a lot of sense. He thought about Scully and The X-
Files, and smiled. It occurred to him at that moment how lucky he
actually was. After all, he mused, how many people could claim to
have been given a second chance at life, a chance to do things right?
He smiled again, as he thought of his beautiful daughter at home, and
of Dana. He'd always miss his old life, but he certainly wouldn't want
to give up what he had now. A part of him still longed for closure with
his other life, yet he understood now that he could only travel forward.
And what's more, he wanted to travel forward. 'Don't look back, Fox,'
he thought to himself. Letting go of the past was a hard task, and he
still had far to go, but at least he was on the right path. He considered
the title of a favourite movie of his which seemed to apply. 'After all,'
he mused with a smile, 'you only live twice.'
Fox continued to walk, as the light rain softly pelted his face. Then,
acting on an instinct, he stopped and just stood, staring up at the
clouds, rain caressing his face and streaming down his cheeks. He
smiled broadly, and tears falling from his own eyes intermixed with the
raindrops and were washed away. In complete contrast with a similar
scene in his not-so-distant past, these tears weren't the symptom of
some gnawing, all consuming fear and torment, but of happiness. He
stood completely still for a long time, tears rolling down his cheeks
and his mind almost devoid of conscious thought but for a vague
awareness of his surroundings. He could have stood there forever,
content to just be at that moment, if it weren't for the prospect of seeing
his family at home. Instead, he moved off again after a long while,
repressing with a laugh the urge to reenact Gene Kelly's street scene
from 'Singing in the Rain'.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Weeks passed, and slowly Fox was beginning to adapt back to his
life. He'd moved back into his and Dana's room, and every night
faced the problem of lulling Emily into at least a light sleep by the time
the sun rose. It would appear that, like her father, Emily was already
developing into a chronic insomniac. Mulder only hoped that his
unfortunate habit wouldn't curse his daughter for life as it had him.
Fox had also made arrangements to start working full time at the FBI
as of the next year, and to give up the teaching job with which he had
never really felt fulfilled - a move he saw as a positive step forward.
Finally, and perhaps most importantly, Fox had found he'd recovered
virtually all memories of his life pre-Agent Mulder.
Life was finally beginning to even out, and Fox found himself able to
concentrate more completely on his family and the things important to
him. There were of course still times when Fox thought of his other
existence, though, with a slightly mournful mindset.
One night, Fox sat lost in though on the sofa close to midnight as
Scully joined him.
"Hey," she began.
Mulder looked up and gave a weak smile. Noticing the sad, far away
look in his eyes, Dana understood immediately what was running
through his mind. Months had passed since Fox had awoken from his
coma, and she'd become fairly well attuned to his thoughts and the
accompanying expressions in that time.
She smiled back. "Ya know, I was just thinking, I'd love to hear all
about the escapades of Agents Mulder and Scully one day. I bet
Scully was the real star. Strong willed, sexy, and fiercely intelligent
no doubt?" Her lips turned up at the corners into a small, supportive
grin, and her eyes sparkled playfully.
Mulder looked down at the floor and grinned too. "Yeah, I guess you
could say that."
Scully continued: "I really mean that, Fox, I'd love to know about them.
I'm always here if you feel you need to talk."
Mulder looked up into Scully's eyes, and was overwhelmed by a
strange, sentimental feeling. "And I'd love more than anything to tell
you about them, Dana." He paused. "Basically, think the storyline of
Star Wars, with myself as Luke Skywalker - a young, naive man
pulled into a web of intrigue, forced to fight against the odds to save
the world, discovering to his horror that his father was the leader of the
dark side. Learning to understand the world through the tutelage of
some wise old mentors, finding bit by bit that, like it or not, he's the
centre of the most influential conflict in human history, and the only
one with the power to prevent the forces of evil from engaging an
apparently inevitable armageddon. A voyage of discovery of epic
proportions, and his struggle to fight for what seemed a futile cause...
to fight the future, if you will." Suddenly realising he was still talking,
he glanced over at Dana, slightly embarrassed. He cleared his throat,
and she grinned broadly.
"But, uh, I digress." He smiled playfully. "I guess you could say it was
Star Wars, mixed with... well, mixed with the 'Alien' movies," he added
with a chuckle, picturing an exploded chest from which a new
extraterrestrial biological entity had been born, then fell silent.
"You know, the thing is... I'd really love to have known what finally
happened to them. I mean, to us. Did they find the truth? Did they
realise their quest and prevent the planed armageddon? Did they
ever, uh, get it on?" He laughed softly to himself, and once again fixed
his eyes on the floor. "I know it sounds silly. They *were* only a
dream..." He trailed off.
"No Fox, I don't think it's stupid. They were so much more than a
dream to you. For that time, you *were* Special Agent Fox Mulder.
And their quest was your life."
"But I'll still never know how it all ended."
They sat in silence for a long while. "Maybe you do," she finally said.
Mulder eyed her questioningly. "Maybe I do what?"
"Maybe you do know what happened."
He stared at her blankly. "I-I don't follow."
"Well, they were part of *your* mind. Effectively, your creation. You
have the power to control their fate, you always did. Look deep inside
yourself... and I think you'll find your answers."
There was another long silence.
"Ya know Dana, I think you're right. It's all inside me, and it's up to me
to decide *my* characters' fate. It's all within my power." And
somehow, he found comfort in that thought.
"Well, it's getting late, we should really get some rest," Scully said,
elevating herself off the couch and to her feet. "Coming?"
"Yeah, in a little while. There's... um... something I'd like to do first."
She bent down and kissed him softly on the forehead. "Ok, I'll see
you in a while." With that, she turned and made her way down the hall
to their bedroom.
After a few moments, Mulder finally got up. He moved slowly over to
his computer in the corner of the room and booted it up. He chuckled
slightly, having never quite gotten used to the reality that, unlike his
counterpart, he was far less adept in keyboard skills. Still, for a four
finger typer, he was surprisingly fast.
He sat in front of the glowing screen for a long time, staring at nothing
in particular. Then suddenly, he began to write.
The X-Files
Chapter 1: A New Beginning
Special Agent Dana Katherine Scully cautiously entered the stuffy,
poorly lit basement office of one Fox William Mulder. Her eyes slowly
scanned the room, noting first the general mess, and then the specific
items which cluttered her surroundings. Paper and photos were
strewn everywhere, some pinned to walls but others just left to lie
wherever they had been last examined. She ventured further into the
room, at which point her eyes were drawn to a crookedly pinned
poster dominating the wall behind the main desk. It showed a typical
scene (to those familiar with UFO mythology) of a slightly out of focus
flying saucer hovering just above the tree line in a clear day sky.
Printed below the tree line were the words 'I Want To Believe'. Agent
Scully observed this with a raised eyebrow but said nothing. Finally,
her eyes came to rest on the back of a man hunched over a light table,
apparently absorbed in viewing slides.
"Hello?" she called.
Agent Mulder grinned to himself, never once moving his eyes from the
slides he had been examining.
"Sorry, noone down here but the FBI's most unwanted..."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The End
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Dreaming Aloud: Epilogue
Over a thousand pages and a year later, Fox's 'life story' was nearing
completion. He'd put it all down: all the memories he treasured, all
the truths he and Scully had boldly and gallantly sought to bring to
light, all the dreams that he'd sacrificed, and all the fragile hopes
which had been trampled again and again in the name of a greater
good. He'd sat up late night after night, as it was only in darkness he
found himself able to write the way he did, and had poured his heart
into the pages, each and every word conveying a thousand bottled
emotions -- the emotions of a life time.
As Dana had suggested, he had looked to himself and his own
experiences, journeyed deep into the recesses of a scarred and
damaged soul, to find the answers and conclusions he'd longed for. It
was a painful and often frightening process, out of which had resulted
many nights of lost sleep and draining tears. But at the end of it all,
Fox had emerged from his written reverie with an overwhelming
sense of acceptance and closure.
One night in December, he sat awake reading over and over his
written thoughts, contemplating nothing in particular but his mind
churning wildly. Finally, he reached a point where his thought
processes came to an abrupt halt, and his eyes darted upward from
his screen. As he'd been reading, it had occurred to him that the story
was much too close to him. He didnÕt feel it was right to sign the name
of his main character on his work - these were far too private and
personal experiences. He would prefer a certain sense of anonymity -
- even if noone ever read his words other than himself.
"Perhaps a nom de plume?" he asked himself aloud. He shrugged.
Why not. Considering what name to place in the by line, the images
of the most inspirational and influential men in his life flew through his
mind. His three work colleagues, or as he'd known them in his other
existence, the LoneGunMen, were the first to surface, and Mulder
smiled at the thought of all their names. No matter how much he
respected his friends, the names Melvin and Ringo were just way too
goofy, and John was simply...plain. Next, he considered Deep Throat,
and then realised with a start that he didn't even know his name, so
dismissed that possibility. Other faces flew by, until finally his mind
came to rest on the image of his father, Chris Mulder. Fox smiled.
Besides the fact that he cared deeply for his father now, it would
convey a certain poetic justice for him to use the name of the story's
villain. Yes, that was perfect, at least for the first name.
Moving on to surnames, Fox realised with a frown that the surnames
of everyone he knew had already been used in his story. Turning his
attention to his TV, which was softly humming in the background, in an
attempt to clear his head and perhaps find inspiration, Mulder noted a
typically, over sensationalistic add for E.R. It was complete with the
cliched heartbeat overlay and dramatic voiceover, as images of
doctors and patients, each with intense looks, flashed from one to
another with a stylised, washed out colour pattern for effect. Fox
couldn't help but grin.
"Can Carter save the life of a..." the voice was saying, dramatic
emphasis on every word.
'Carter...' Fox thought to himself absently. It did go nicely with Chris,
he realised, and he'd always liked the name. 'Carter it is.' He
scrolled to the top of his page, and wrote there: The X-Files, by Chris
Carter. Who knows, he considered further, maybe eventually he
would publish his work.
On the heels of that thought, another occurred to him. Perhaps one
day someone could even turn his life's story into a movie, or a
series of movies, or maybe even a TV series. He chuckled slightly to
himself. Although, he might have to do something about the title.
'The X-Files,' he noted with a wry grin. 'Sounds suspiciously like a
porno flick.'
