"Hunter, if you keep acting out in class, I'm going to have to schedule a
meeting with your parents." Mulder explained in a firm yet fairly gentle
tone.
The small blond boy shook his head vigorously. One of Owen's classmates, he was a too frequent visitor to Mulder's office. "I'll be good, I promise."
"You've promised that before." Mulder reminded him.
"This time I mean it." The boy swore.
Mulder let him go back to class, but he wasn't sure what to think. It was possible that they boy could learn to control his impulsive behavior on his own, but Mulder was beginning to wonder if a course in behavioral therapy wasn't in order. If the boy returned again within the next couple of weeks accompanied by yet another report of how he'd disrupted class, he would make good on his threat and call the boy's parents. It might be a stage he was going through, but Mulder was beginning to wonder.
He idly found himself wondering what Scully would think about him being a school psychologist. Though he never shared it with Caitlin, ' what would Scully think?' was one of his most frequent mental games. He supposed he couldn't help it, given how long they'd known and worked with each other. As long as he and Cat had been married.
Sometimes he thought it was because of Scully that he and Cat had been drawn together. He hadn't been looking for anyone, at least not actively, when they'd met.
**
While Mulder was more than content to let romances bloom with the pace of drying paint, Caitlin was the aggressor in that particular relationship. He'd been drawn to her, certainly, from the time they met, but his attraction had been colored with a blush of shame – he was so much older, he was her professor...neither of which bothered her in the slightest.
She'd been one of the few grad students in his class, so not as young or innocent as the undergrad girls and boys who made up the rest of his students. How far removed from innocent was something he learned quickly, despite his initial reluctance to become involved with a woman more than ten years his junior.
She was the type of woman who knew what she wanted, and what she wanted was him. She explained once that she'd known she wanted him from their very first class. When he asked her why, she only shrugged and said the fact that he looked so haunted yet was still a competent and fully functioning person was appealing to her – it meant that he was the type of person to take the worse life had to offer and deal with it. He privately disagreed about how well he was functioning just then, but he never said so to her. Once she'd gotten him into her sights she'd begun a less than subtle campaign of seduction.
At first she'd showed up at all his office hours, less for help with the class work than to make sure she was visible to him, despite the lecture hall setting. Next she'd smile at him whenever he looked her way, and she began volunteering to help him clean up after class. He knew right then that he ought to do nothing to encourage her, but he was intrigued as much by her personality as her honey blond hair and soft brown eyes. He let it go further, planning to sit down one day and explain the impropriety of them being involved if she did anything more overt than that.
Instead he found himself having dinner with her in the next town over, explaining that he liked her a lot too, but it was career suicide to get involved with a student. She pointed out that those rules were in place to protect naive eighteen year olds, not more worldly grad students in their mid-twenties, such as herself. He said that didn't matter to the tenure board. So she told him commit career suicide, he'd be able to find another job. So at the end of that semester he did.
First he fell in love with her, then into bed. He was shocked that for all her worldly airs, he was the first man she'd been with. When he asked her why, scarcely being able to believe that someone that good and that beautiful would lack for willing men to bed her, she'd told him she'd been waiting for the person worth the hassle. And that was him.
They married less than a year after they met, and he didn't regret it for a second.
**
The note dropped to the floor next to the boy's foot. Giving it a puzzled look, William reached down and unfolded it within the confines of his desk. Peering in at it he read "Do you like Savanna? Check yes or no." He pushed the note deeper into the confines of his desk and glanced over at the girls in the next row of desks. Savanna blushed and looked away, while Morgan, who'd passed the note, looked at him expectantly. He suddenly became very interested in the math problems they were supposed to be doing.
Thinking about the note, he didn't get it. His mother told him that girls were beginning to give him starry-eyed looks because he was a nice boy, and a cute one besides. He didn't feel cute. He knew from a picture that he looked a little like both of his parents, but exactly like neither. His birth parents, he always thought of them with that label, not real, since he knew from an early age that he'd been adopted. Some times he compared that picture to his reflection in the mirror, and decided that God had split the difference when he was made. His hair was thick, wavy and auburn, and his eyes were lawn green. His mother told him that he'd had blue eyes as a baby, back when he'd first come to them, but they'd changed to green when he was a toddler. His birth parents probably don't even know that. Some times he wonders if they care, but mostly he doesn't think anything about them at all.
**
Mulder's forest green mini-van was headed home from the grocery store. He'd never thought of himself as a mini-van driver, but Cat insisted that it was the most practical thing for their family, so he swallowed his pride and drove the damn thing. The boys were a big help with the grocery shopping, but it had tired Owen out. He was asleep in the second row, surrounded by paper bags.
"Tell me about my brother again." Benji demanded.
Glancing over at the passenger seat, Mulder knew exactly which brother Benji was talking about. For a split second he wondered if his son had read his mind, but so far none of the kids seemed anything but normal. Except William. Not that he'd ever seen any of his baby powers. Scully had told him about them though.
"What about him?" The boys all knew that they had an older brother, but so far only Benji ever talked about him or asked any. It made Mulder wonder why.
"How old is he now?"
"He's eleven. His birthday was in May."
"You haven't known Mom eleven years yet." Benji stated. He sounded like he'd done the math in his head.
"Nope. Not even ten years until January." Mulder agreed.
"What does he look like?" This question was new.
"More like his mother than me. Unlike you boys." He said with a small smile. But his answer was based more on hope than known fact. At least none of them had inherited the Mulder nose.
Benji had heard the story about his father's former partner needing help to get a baby. After satisfying himself that his father hadn't married the woman, which to him meant he didn't love her – at least not as much as he loved his mother, and that was the important thing – he lost interest and never asked about her. Mulder didn't really mind.
"Why doesn't he live with us?" Benji gave him an intent stare that he could feel.
A painful question, Benji had no idea how much. Mulder looked away from the road again, knowing that Benji must have found out somehow that his brother had been put up for adoption. Whether he'd overhead a post-bedtime conversation or asked his mother, Mulder didn't know. "His mother thought that he'd be safer with another family." He answered carefully, returning his attention to his driving.
"Is he?"
Is he? Mulder's heart echoed the question. "I hope so."
Benji lost his taste for interrogation and changed the subject to something that happened in class. Mulder barely heard him.
The small blond boy shook his head vigorously. One of Owen's classmates, he was a too frequent visitor to Mulder's office. "I'll be good, I promise."
"You've promised that before." Mulder reminded him.
"This time I mean it." The boy swore.
Mulder let him go back to class, but he wasn't sure what to think. It was possible that they boy could learn to control his impulsive behavior on his own, but Mulder was beginning to wonder if a course in behavioral therapy wasn't in order. If the boy returned again within the next couple of weeks accompanied by yet another report of how he'd disrupted class, he would make good on his threat and call the boy's parents. It might be a stage he was going through, but Mulder was beginning to wonder.
He idly found himself wondering what Scully would think about him being a school psychologist. Though he never shared it with Caitlin, ' what would Scully think?' was one of his most frequent mental games. He supposed he couldn't help it, given how long they'd known and worked with each other. As long as he and Cat had been married.
Sometimes he thought it was because of Scully that he and Cat had been drawn together. He hadn't been looking for anyone, at least not actively, when they'd met.
**
While Mulder was more than content to let romances bloom with the pace of drying paint, Caitlin was the aggressor in that particular relationship. He'd been drawn to her, certainly, from the time they met, but his attraction had been colored with a blush of shame – he was so much older, he was her professor...neither of which bothered her in the slightest.
She'd been one of the few grad students in his class, so not as young or innocent as the undergrad girls and boys who made up the rest of his students. How far removed from innocent was something he learned quickly, despite his initial reluctance to become involved with a woman more than ten years his junior.
She was the type of woman who knew what she wanted, and what she wanted was him. She explained once that she'd known she wanted him from their very first class. When he asked her why, she only shrugged and said the fact that he looked so haunted yet was still a competent and fully functioning person was appealing to her – it meant that he was the type of person to take the worse life had to offer and deal with it. He privately disagreed about how well he was functioning just then, but he never said so to her. Once she'd gotten him into her sights she'd begun a less than subtle campaign of seduction.
At first she'd showed up at all his office hours, less for help with the class work than to make sure she was visible to him, despite the lecture hall setting. Next she'd smile at him whenever he looked her way, and she began volunteering to help him clean up after class. He knew right then that he ought to do nothing to encourage her, but he was intrigued as much by her personality as her honey blond hair and soft brown eyes. He let it go further, planning to sit down one day and explain the impropriety of them being involved if she did anything more overt than that.
Instead he found himself having dinner with her in the next town over, explaining that he liked her a lot too, but it was career suicide to get involved with a student. She pointed out that those rules were in place to protect naive eighteen year olds, not more worldly grad students in their mid-twenties, such as herself. He said that didn't matter to the tenure board. So she told him commit career suicide, he'd be able to find another job. So at the end of that semester he did.
First he fell in love with her, then into bed. He was shocked that for all her worldly airs, he was the first man she'd been with. When he asked her why, scarcely being able to believe that someone that good and that beautiful would lack for willing men to bed her, she'd told him she'd been waiting for the person worth the hassle. And that was him.
They married less than a year after they met, and he didn't regret it for a second.
**
The note dropped to the floor next to the boy's foot. Giving it a puzzled look, William reached down and unfolded it within the confines of his desk. Peering in at it he read "Do you like Savanna? Check yes or no." He pushed the note deeper into the confines of his desk and glanced over at the girls in the next row of desks. Savanna blushed and looked away, while Morgan, who'd passed the note, looked at him expectantly. He suddenly became very interested in the math problems they were supposed to be doing.
Thinking about the note, he didn't get it. His mother told him that girls were beginning to give him starry-eyed looks because he was a nice boy, and a cute one besides. He didn't feel cute. He knew from a picture that he looked a little like both of his parents, but exactly like neither. His birth parents, he always thought of them with that label, not real, since he knew from an early age that he'd been adopted. Some times he compared that picture to his reflection in the mirror, and decided that God had split the difference when he was made. His hair was thick, wavy and auburn, and his eyes were lawn green. His mother told him that he'd had blue eyes as a baby, back when he'd first come to them, but they'd changed to green when he was a toddler. His birth parents probably don't even know that. Some times he wonders if they care, but mostly he doesn't think anything about them at all.
**
Mulder's forest green mini-van was headed home from the grocery store. He'd never thought of himself as a mini-van driver, but Cat insisted that it was the most practical thing for their family, so he swallowed his pride and drove the damn thing. The boys were a big help with the grocery shopping, but it had tired Owen out. He was asleep in the second row, surrounded by paper bags.
"Tell me about my brother again." Benji demanded.
Glancing over at the passenger seat, Mulder knew exactly which brother Benji was talking about. For a split second he wondered if his son had read his mind, but so far none of the kids seemed anything but normal. Except William. Not that he'd ever seen any of his baby powers. Scully had told him about them though.
"What about him?" The boys all knew that they had an older brother, but so far only Benji ever talked about him or asked any. It made Mulder wonder why.
"How old is he now?"
"He's eleven. His birthday was in May."
"You haven't known Mom eleven years yet." Benji stated. He sounded like he'd done the math in his head.
"Nope. Not even ten years until January." Mulder agreed.
"What does he look like?" This question was new.
"More like his mother than me. Unlike you boys." He said with a small smile. But his answer was based more on hope than known fact. At least none of them had inherited the Mulder nose.
Benji had heard the story about his father's former partner needing help to get a baby. After satisfying himself that his father hadn't married the woman, which to him meant he didn't love her – at least not as much as he loved his mother, and that was the important thing – he lost interest and never asked about her. Mulder didn't really mind.
"Why doesn't he live with us?" Benji gave him an intent stare that he could feel.
A painful question, Benji had no idea how much. Mulder looked away from the road again, knowing that Benji must have found out somehow that his brother had been put up for adoption. Whether he'd overhead a post-bedtime conversation or asked his mother, Mulder didn't know. "His mother thought that he'd be safer with another family." He answered carefully, returning his attention to his driving.
"Is he?"
Is he? Mulder's heart echoed the question. "I hope so."
Benji lost his taste for interrogation and changed the subject to something that happened in class. Mulder barely heard him.