Making dinner alone in her empty house Scully thought about when Mulder
left her. She'd only gotten him back, and then he was gone again. Seven
months after that she heard from Skinner that Mulder was in love. With
someone else.
He'd lied to her, in that cell of his, telling her that he understood her reasons for giving William away. But he hadn't, not really, and that soon became evident. She should have known when he followed "I know you had no choice" with "I just missed both of you so much." That was the writing on the wall, she just didn't know it then. God she wished she'd known, not that it would have changed anything that happened between them. It would have been the same.
One month after they fled for their lives they got a call saying that all was forgiven, please come back to the FBI at any time. She toyed with the idea of returning to teaching at Quantico, but she was suspicious of what it meant. Mulder, on the other hand, was overjoyed. He wanted to go right back, no matter what they'd done to him.
But it was William that came between them, not their feelings about returning to Washington. Mulder thought that because they were not being hunted any longer, they would be the best protection their son had. They'd protest the adoption because he'd never signed his son away, and they'd get their boy back. They'd live happily ever after.
She knew they wouldn't. There was still a threat out there, one that had nothing to do with the FBI at all. So she said no. Leave William where he is, he's happy. He's safe. He'll grow up normal. When she wouldn't change her mind, she lost Mulder.
He muttered darkly about normal families, and wanting to have one. She didn't dare suggest adoption, because it would be too insane. And she knew that she'd never have another baby. Slowly, inch by inch, day by day she lost more of him. First his love, then his touch, and last his thoughts.
One day in October she got home from the job she'd taken while she made up her mind about DC and found him gone. All his stuff, his very presence, gone. After two days it felt like he'd never been there. After five she called DC and said she'd love to teach at Quantico again, when could she start?
She only heard about Mulder in rumors. A rumor that he'd tried to get a court to dissolve the adoption. Another that a judge had decided that a stable two-parent family was better than his unsettled single father. Then one that he'd taken a job at a university.
And a year later that he'd married in January. At first she wondered if he'd married the woman just so he could make another go at trying to take custody away from William's new parents. Maybe that was just her heart rebelling against the idea that he could have fallen in love with another woman. Someone who wasn't her. So quickly.
After that there was a series of pictures that Reyes copied and sent to her. She didn't think it was a friendly gesture on the other woman's part, because she'd taken Mulder's side. Reyes thought William belonged with them too. But Scully kept the pictures, each of a small dark-haired newborn; every two years there was another one. From what she'd heard the last born was a girl, finally. It made her miss Emily.
She tried not to remember the names of Mulder's children, but some nights, when she was feeling guilty and haunted, they returned to her like a litany: Benjamin, Owen, Kyle, Avery, Delaney. The happiness she could never have given him, not even if he'd stayed.
If she could have made him stay. Instead she fucked him good-bye, knowing one night if he wasn't gone the next day, it'd be one soon. She was only two days early, but she never touched him again after that.
**
Mulder and Benji had a blow-up at dinner. Perhaps just being a typical eight-year-old, Benji had been rude and surly, nearly making Kyle cry by pretending that he was going to give him the rolls like he'd asked, then yanking them away at the last second. Mulder barked at him to stop teasing his brother, and Benji had slammed the rolls down and bolted from the table. Feeling guilty, he'd wanted to go after him, but Cat told him to leave him to himself until after dinner. Mulder finished eating, even though he'd lost most of his appetite.
Even after eight years of active parenting, Mulder still found the fact that his kids weren't always happy to be with him to be hard to bear. Cynical as he was, there was a persistent thought at the back of mind that all you needed to have a happy family was a tacit agreement between Mom and Dad that you'd never give your kids away to aliens or other families, but it didn't work out that way. When things went less than smoothly, he liked to go to his office and brood about parenthood.
When Benji had first been born, Mulder had been scared to death. Beyond the normal new-parent fears of being too rough with the baby, or not being competent to take care of him, Mulder worried that his past might caught up to him and threaten to snatch his son away from him, just like it had Samantha and William. But that hadn't happened. Keeping his distance from the x-files seemed to keep his family safe. At least the family that was near enough to touch.
One day Mulder was going to have to explain to his sons and daughter that he had tried as hard as humanly possible to get their oldest brother back, and the fact that William didn't live with them didn't make him any less important to Mulder than them. He'd tell them that once he left Scully he immediately set about trying to contest the adoption.
He'd been fully convinced that the law would be on his side. This time he'd go before a judge, not to present a theory that no normal person would believe, but as a father who wanted his little boy back; the sweet little baby that he'd been fighting to protect for the entire year of his life.
In the end the judge had decided that his son was better off with the people who'd been caring for him for four months than they would have been with his own father, who admitted that he'd last seen his son when he was four days old. His protests that he'd been gone to keep the child safe from something that was no longer a threat fell on deaf ears. Mulder's only solstice was the fact that the Van Dekamps had agreed, through their attorney, to accept a photo of himself and Scully, so his son would have something to know them by.
Mulder was looking forward to William's eighteenth birthday, when he'd legally be allowed to contact him, but seven years was a long time to wait.
** A few days later...
Skinner yawned and stretched as he got out of his chair and shut down his computer. It was seven at night, and he should have been home hours ago. Even Doggett was giving him a hard time lately about how late he was leaving the office lately. But Diana understood.
No one could have predicted ten years ago that Skinner would former FBI agent Diana Fowley, and this was mostly because everyone thought she was dead. Scully had been in a vulnerable state when the 'news' about Fowley's death had been imparted to her, so she'd believed the woman dead even without a body, which was exactly what Fowley had wanted everyone to be convinced of when she asked Skinner to help her arrange her own death so she could get off the syndicate's radar.
Scully felt too guilty to doubt Skinner's assertion that she'd been killed, and Mulder had been too ill from his amateur brain surgery to do anything but mourn tiredly, so the plan had gone off without a hitch. Diana took off and assumed a new identity. One of the first things Mulder told Skinner when he discussed the invitation they'd gotten to return to the FBI was how CSM was dead at last.
He'd waited a couple of months until it was clear that Mulder's opinion was not merely wishful thinking, then called her and let her know that it was safe to come home. The hardest part was telling Mulder and Scully.
Scully's reaction was the one that surprised Skinner. Not blind to the animosity between the two women, he'd expected her to be more than a little angry to have been deceived into believing the other woman dead. Instead she'd met the news with sanguinity.
At first he wondered if she was just putting on a very convincing act, but then the reality of the situation set in. All the bad blood between them revolved around Mulder, and now that neither of them had any interest in him... they'd never be good friends, but they were no longer enemies. It was something he was thankful for, because it meant that he didn't have to pick between his friendship with Scully and his blooming romance with Fowley. When Scully could be jollied out her hermit-like existence, she even went out with the two of them. She might even have been in their wedding, if Diana hadn't firmly told him that she loved living together but she wasn't the marrying type.
Mulder, on the other hand, had acted the way Skinner expected: shocked, hurt that he hadn't been confided in... it might have been a bigger deal if he lived anywhere near by and his disapproval was palpable, but as it was with them being half-way across the country, they were able to chalk up their infrequent and awkward visits to distance causing everyone to grow apart.
Skinner grabbed his coat and smiled. On the phone fifteen minutes before Diana had hinted at the possibility of a romantic dinner if he hurried home. He left the building as quickly as he could with a spring in his step.
He'd lied to her, in that cell of his, telling her that he understood her reasons for giving William away. But he hadn't, not really, and that soon became evident. She should have known when he followed "I know you had no choice" with "I just missed both of you so much." That was the writing on the wall, she just didn't know it then. God she wished she'd known, not that it would have changed anything that happened between them. It would have been the same.
One month after they fled for their lives they got a call saying that all was forgiven, please come back to the FBI at any time. She toyed with the idea of returning to teaching at Quantico, but she was suspicious of what it meant. Mulder, on the other hand, was overjoyed. He wanted to go right back, no matter what they'd done to him.
But it was William that came between them, not their feelings about returning to Washington. Mulder thought that because they were not being hunted any longer, they would be the best protection their son had. They'd protest the adoption because he'd never signed his son away, and they'd get their boy back. They'd live happily ever after.
She knew they wouldn't. There was still a threat out there, one that had nothing to do with the FBI at all. So she said no. Leave William where he is, he's happy. He's safe. He'll grow up normal. When she wouldn't change her mind, she lost Mulder.
He muttered darkly about normal families, and wanting to have one. She didn't dare suggest adoption, because it would be too insane. And she knew that she'd never have another baby. Slowly, inch by inch, day by day she lost more of him. First his love, then his touch, and last his thoughts.
One day in October she got home from the job she'd taken while she made up her mind about DC and found him gone. All his stuff, his very presence, gone. After two days it felt like he'd never been there. After five she called DC and said she'd love to teach at Quantico again, when could she start?
She only heard about Mulder in rumors. A rumor that he'd tried to get a court to dissolve the adoption. Another that a judge had decided that a stable two-parent family was better than his unsettled single father. Then one that he'd taken a job at a university.
And a year later that he'd married in January. At first she wondered if he'd married the woman just so he could make another go at trying to take custody away from William's new parents. Maybe that was just her heart rebelling against the idea that he could have fallen in love with another woman. Someone who wasn't her. So quickly.
After that there was a series of pictures that Reyes copied and sent to her. She didn't think it was a friendly gesture on the other woman's part, because she'd taken Mulder's side. Reyes thought William belonged with them too. But Scully kept the pictures, each of a small dark-haired newborn; every two years there was another one. From what she'd heard the last born was a girl, finally. It made her miss Emily.
She tried not to remember the names of Mulder's children, but some nights, when she was feeling guilty and haunted, they returned to her like a litany: Benjamin, Owen, Kyle, Avery, Delaney. The happiness she could never have given him, not even if he'd stayed.
If she could have made him stay. Instead she fucked him good-bye, knowing one night if he wasn't gone the next day, it'd be one soon. She was only two days early, but she never touched him again after that.
**
Mulder and Benji had a blow-up at dinner. Perhaps just being a typical eight-year-old, Benji had been rude and surly, nearly making Kyle cry by pretending that he was going to give him the rolls like he'd asked, then yanking them away at the last second. Mulder barked at him to stop teasing his brother, and Benji had slammed the rolls down and bolted from the table. Feeling guilty, he'd wanted to go after him, but Cat told him to leave him to himself until after dinner. Mulder finished eating, even though he'd lost most of his appetite.
Even after eight years of active parenting, Mulder still found the fact that his kids weren't always happy to be with him to be hard to bear. Cynical as he was, there was a persistent thought at the back of mind that all you needed to have a happy family was a tacit agreement between Mom and Dad that you'd never give your kids away to aliens or other families, but it didn't work out that way. When things went less than smoothly, he liked to go to his office and brood about parenthood.
When Benji had first been born, Mulder had been scared to death. Beyond the normal new-parent fears of being too rough with the baby, or not being competent to take care of him, Mulder worried that his past might caught up to him and threaten to snatch his son away from him, just like it had Samantha and William. But that hadn't happened. Keeping his distance from the x-files seemed to keep his family safe. At least the family that was near enough to touch.
One day Mulder was going to have to explain to his sons and daughter that he had tried as hard as humanly possible to get their oldest brother back, and the fact that William didn't live with them didn't make him any less important to Mulder than them. He'd tell them that once he left Scully he immediately set about trying to contest the adoption.
He'd been fully convinced that the law would be on his side. This time he'd go before a judge, not to present a theory that no normal person would believe, but as a father who wanted his little boy back; the sweet little baby that he'd been fighting to protect for the entire year of his life.
In the end the judge had decided that his son was better off with the people who'd been caring for him for four months than they would have been with his own father, who admitted that he'd last seen his son when he was four days old. His protests that he'd been gone to keep the child safe from something that was no longer a threat fell on deaf ears. Mulder's only solstice was the fact that the Van Dekamps had agreed, through their attorney, to accept a photo of himself and Scully, so his son would have something to know them by.
Mulder was looking forward to William's eighteenth birthday, when he'd legally be allowed to contact him, but seven years was a long time to wait.
** A few days later...
Skinner yawned and stretched as he got out of his chair and shut down his computer. It was seven at night, and he should have been home hours ago. Even Doggett was giving him a hard time lately about how late he was leaving the office lately. But Diana understood.
No one could have predicted ten years ago that Skinner would former FBI agent Diana Fowley, and this was mostly because everyone thought she was dead. Scully had been in a vulnerable state when the 'news' about Fowley's death had been imparted to her, so she'd believed the woman dead even without a body, which was exactly what Fowley had wanted everyone to be convinced of when she asked Skinner to help her arrange her own death so she could get off the syndicate's radar.
Scully felt too guilty to doubt Skinner's assertion that she'd been killed, and Mulder had been too ill from his amateur brain surgery to do anything but mourn tiredly, so the plan had gone off without a hitch. Diana took off and assumed a new identity. One of the first things Mulder told Skinner when he discussed the invitation they'd gotten to return to the FBI was how CSM was dead at last.
He'd waited a couple of months until it was clear that Mulder's opinion was not merely wishful thinking, then called her and let her know that it was safe to come home. The hardest part was telling Mulder and Scully.
Scully's reaction was the one that surprised Skinner. Not blind to the animosity between the two women, he'd expected her to be more than a little angry to have been deceived into believing the other woman dead. Instead she'd met the news with sanguinity.
At first he wondered if she was just putting on a very convincing act, but then the reality of the situation set in. All the bad blood between them revolved around Mulder, and now that neither of them had any interest in him... they'd never be good friends, but they were no longer enemies. It was something he was thankful for, because it meant that he didn't have to pick between his friendship with Scully and his blooming romance with Fowley. When Scully could be jollied out her hermit-like existence, she even went out with the two of them. She might even have been in their wedding, if Diana hadn't firmly told him that she loved living together but she wasn't the marrying type.
Mulder, on the other hand, had acted the way Skinner expected: shocked, hurt that he hadn't been confided in... it might have been a bigger deal if he lived anywhere near by and his disapproval was palpable, but as it was with them being half-way across the country, they were able to chalk up their infrequent and awkward visits to distance causing everyone to grow apart.
Skinner grabbed his coat and smiled. On the phone fifteen minutes before Diana had hinted at the possibility of a romantic dinner if he hurried home. He left the building as quickly as he could with a spring in his step.