by Andrea
Clinks of glasses and plates filled the room as a young, dark-haired man entered. He was not more than thirty years old, but distinguished looking for his age. His piercing blue eyes swept the restaurant, searching for something. His face held mystery, but there was an unmistakable air of kindness as well, a strange mixture.
His eyes fell on an older man sitting alone at a booth, quietly sipping a coffee as he tried to vanish into the wood panes that lined the walls. It was an old habit that he couldn't break, but it had never worked anyway. There was too much in him to allow him to disappear. His hair was lined with gray; the deep lines in his face betrayed the sorrow of a past that he no longer made an attempt to hide. The blue-eyed stranger gave a start, and slowly began to tread in his direction.
"Excuse me. Are you-"
The older man had hurriedly gotten to his feet at his approach.
"Yes."
The two simultaneously extended their hands and gripped each other in a firm handshake. Nervous laugh. The older man slowly, and almost cautiously, reached around and patted the other on the back, an action that transformed into an awkward looking hug.
They pulled apart, both faces an indistinguishable mix of relief and terror.
"So, can I..." the younger man gestured at the open booth.
"Oh. Of course."
They settled into opposite sides of the booth, and gray haired man waved at the waitress.
"Another coffee, please."
"Decaf."
The younger man was met with a raised eyebrow.
"Decaf?"
A shrug served as the response. Small talk.
The second coffee came without event and the two sat quietly, apparently more interested in their beverages than each other. Every now and then one would glance up expectantly, before lowering his head quickly before being seen by the other.
An abrupt confession interrupted what had become minutes of silence.
"I discovered the adoption papers when I was fourteen."
"Oh?"
"It was all there. My birth certificate and the rest."
"That's how you found out?"
"Mom said that she'd planned on telling me when I was older. But the years kept coming, and she kept putting it off until the next, or waiting for a better time."
"I understand how difficult it was for her. For her to tell you, that is. To give you up as her own."
"It wasn't just that. Mom's has always been different."
"Tell me about your mother."
The young man could tell it was painful to ask the question. But hearing about any of it was.
"I always knew it was hard on her. Being a single mother. But she must have wanted us, to adopt my sister and me. Before I found out, I figured she was just stuck with us. But in truth, she needed us. Sometimes she would try to pit Angela and me against each other. She'd tell me about something Angela did, and tell Angela about something I did. She wanted both of us to come to her, so that she could fix it. She needed us to love her so badly. We did, of course, but I'm not sure she ever understood that. We found out later that she was never truly well in her mind. She took care of us, though. And it just made me even closer to Angela. We found out soon enough what she was doing, and decided we had to stick together. We were kids, but we weren't oblivious to Mom's games. Even today, we call each other at least once a week."
"I'm glad to hear that."
"Well, we both went through the same thing. Not only with Mom, but both being adopted and all. And finding out the way we did."
"Do you think your mom ever would have told you?"
Pause.
"I wish I could say yes. But I don't think so. I guess she thought it wouldn't do us any harm not to know. To grow up thinking we were hers. It would have saved us from the questions. The pain of wondering about the past."
"Do you think she was right? Would your life be different if you had never known?"
Longer pause.
"I think I would have followed the same path. Been interested in the same things. I think where the difference lies is in the way I understand people, just knowing that my mother wouldn't have told me. I've come to understand even that, her motivations behind it all. For all her faults, she tried to do what she thought was right.
People have secrets. And people tell lies. But that doesn't mean that there isn't truth to be found in them."The young man was surprised to look up and see tears forming in the corners of his father's eyes. But he couldn't have known the importance the words had. How much the two were alike.
"I wish your mother were alive to see you, William. She'd be very proud."
Fox Mulder looked at his son, examined his own face, thirty years younger, staring back at him. Except for the eyes. Those were Dana's eyes.
"Did you and Dana keep in touch?" William looked at the man he had just found out was his father. It had taken him so long to track him down, but he really didn't know much about the man.
Mulder choked up. How could he tell his son that they had stayed together ever since they'd found each other again? That they'd loved each other until and beyond the day Dana died but couldn't have their son in their lives? It had haunted him ever since that chilling phone call a week ago when he'd learned that William knew he was his father and wanted to meet.
But the old man remembered his own son's words just moments before. He had been right, just as Mulder had been right in his life's search. There were secrets. And there were lies.
But there was also the truth.
"I have so much to tell you."