Ifs and Ifs
As I'm driving the two of us to the location we've narrowed, my mind can't help spinning thoughts, over and over. Good and bad. Hopeless and hopeful.
Well, can't lie to myself, mostly dark ones.
I'm regularly glancing at his profile. William, Jackson, Son. I can't decipher his soul and heart. Not completely.
Sometimes, he's frightening me. Freaked out by his powers. Of course he seems a good boy. Wanting to save his little sister, at all cost.
Not sure he wants to save his mother as much, though. Would sacrifice the mother for the baby, if needed. Well, would I blame him for that? What would I do in such a situation? Save Scully or my miracle baby girl? Who can in his sane mind make such a choice?
Now, he smiles at me. I should be happy. That's us, me and the son I thought I had lost, all together. The son I've grieved for so many years. The son I've never not dreamt of, each night. The son I barely know. But a son who freaks me out by his nature.
He'd been able to communicate with Scully and the baby, and he'd heard sounds, specific sounds, trains, sirens, and a few blurry words – pronounced by Dana, apparently.
I'm forever a believer, still, it's crazy. Spooky.
And, mind-blowing revelation, he's pretty sure the baby did most of the work in their wireless communication.
That's another thing freaking me out, obviously. How to put it? Our miracle baby girl, she's a freak, too. Out of normality. Is that the life Scully and I wanted for the rest of our lifetime? Raising a spooky child? Are we ready for that? Well, Dana, she will, she will be strong. To whatever cost. We'll be strong, together, no matter what.
Son has guts, too. Strong ones. He's certain we've correctly targeted the location and the guy, the abductor who's seeking out revenge. A son, too. Erika Price's eldest son. Maybe he wanted to upload in the simulation with mommy, and he's now out of the project – if this fucking scheme still exists – and he went mad and furious. Or, maybe he became nuts as he grew up, living amidst evil conspirators and alien collaborators or whatever syndicate of liars and caballers. Sure it might make you lose your marbles.
Maybe, maybe. Maybe that's just how our fucking fate is, dancing back and forth from utter despair to heavenly bliss.
Because, yes, honey, those last months of your pregnancy were the ultimate cloud nine. It seems we've never been so happy. So grateful for the gift we've received. Rediscovering all of our senses and intimacy, playing with our felicitous bodies – yours, essentially, if I'm honest. So comfortably together. Enjoying each second of our domestic life, just partners in life and love.
It couldn't last. That's our curse. My curse, the Mulder's curse, because of who and what I am.
Forever ripping Scully out of any semblance of normalcy. Forever dragging her and all the Scullys into Hell.
It's all my fault. Once more. Who led Erika Price to William? Me. Just me.
William grabs my arm, and points at the building on our right. Ten minutes more, and we might have reached our destination. We'll have to play it tight and synchronized. We'll have to be careful, to control our moves and not put Scully and the baby in danger.
If they are still safe and sound. If there's still someone to save. If there has been no harm done.
Because my son has guts, but so do I.
When we jumped into the car, I felt a sting. More than a sting, a sharp stab. Deeply in the heart. I didn't tell William, don't want to break his mood. But I'm afraid something happened. Something bad. And that we might arrive too late. That we'll discover just bones and blood. A butchery scene.
I wouldn't survive, even for William. I would die from heartbreak, right on the spot.
I'm speeding up.
If it's not too late. If the benevolent stars are watching us. If we deserve our share of happiness. There can be hope.
Ifs and ifs.
