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Title: Reunion Summary: He had debated it for a long time, decided, found them, debated again, and then finally made the decision to contact and meet his birth parents. But he still worried... would they want to see him? Note: There are lots of spoilers, but I pretty much cover everything that's important in the story itself. You could be pretty clueless, I think, and still enjoy it. He had debated it for a long time; should he try to find his birth parents? He came to the conclusion that, if only for his own peace of mind, he would attempt to find them, despite the fact that he knew the adoption had been anonymous. He did find them, however, and then debated again whether he should contact them; try to meet them. And then he finally made up his mind. But he still worried... would they want to see him? They had, after all, given him up for adoption seventeen years ago when he was barely nine months old. They had rejected him once; he dreaded them doing it again. Part One -- Reunion He would be eighteen next month, graduating in two. He would be an adult; capable and independent. And, of course, he'd be on his way to college, although even now at the eleventh hour, he had not decided which college he would be going to. He had gotten into plenty, all of them very elite and prestigious universities. But the direction of his life had never taken any clear form. The only thing William had always been certain of, since the time he had found out, was that he would, one day, have to find and meet his birth parents. Walking down the pristine, sterile hallway of Oregon Health and Sciences University in Portland did not give him the hopeful and definitive mood he had expected. He entered the steel, antiseptic smelling elevator and took it down to the second floor; the one the receptionist had said housed the Department of Psychology. He stepped out as the doors swished open and sighed, almost relieved, at the homier feeling of this floor. His feet padded across the carpet, a warm glow from the peach colored walls casting its bright color across his pale skin and making his already red hair seem oranger. Finally, after turning down several hallways and walking past various reception areas and secretarial desks, he found the door he was looking for. His birth father's name was etched into a metal sign that was fixed to the door. William took a deep breath before knocking firmly. A gruff, somewhat haggard and somewhat tired voice replied, "You have to have an appointment." William bit his lip. This was his last chance to turn back. He could just walk away, his footsteps silent on the carpet and forget that he had ever been to the state of Oregon. Something in his heart, however, would not let him get out so easily. Something told him that, despite how hard this was for him, it was nothing compared to what his birth parents had gone through for all the years of his life. He knocked again. "What is it?" the voice sounded annoyed, now. William spoke up, hesitantly. "I'm here to see a Mr. Mulder. It's important." "Talk to the receptionist down the hall; she'll make you an appointment." William sighed again, more exasperated this time. "My name is William." There was silence now. William wondered if the psychologist had heard him. Finally, he heard, in a more crackled voice, "The door's unlocked." William turned the handle and slowly opened the door, then released it, giving it a slight shove. He stood while the swinging door revealed his full frame. Mulder stood from behind his desk, gasping silently, as he gazed at and critiqued the young man before him. He saw the red hair and pale skin, unmistakably Scully-blue eyes, strong Mulder chin and nose, and the lanky frame that mirrored his own, even the way the boy stood there, staring back at him. William didn't see it at first, but as he stared back at Mulder he noticed some of his own features. Any doubts that this was the wrong man left his mind. He stepped into the office and shut the door behind him. Finally, Mulder found his voice again. It was softer this time, as he said, "Please sit down." William did so, but remained silent, having forgotten all the words and possible conversations he had imagined in his head. "I always wondered whether you'd find us. I don't know that I felt anything about the possibility of it, I just wondered if you would." William looked up into his eyes. "I did." His voice cracked and Mulder let out a loud breath, knowing how familiar that crack was. He shook is head in mild bemusement as he sat back down, and returned his gaze back to William. He did not try to avoid anything, just bore intensely into his son's eyes. "How, uh, how are you, then? You'll be eighteen next month, so you should be getting ready for college, huh?" William was about to ask how he knew his birthday, but then remembered. This man had probably witnessed his birth. Or maybe not. William knew that this man, this Mulder, was desperate to get to the point, but was hesitating for William's own sake. Thinking about it, he thought that Mulder might be delaying for someone else, too. He decided to play along, for the time. "Yeah, but I haven't picked a school yet." Mulder nodded. "I know the feeling. Where'd you get in?" William scoffed. "Everywhere. You'd think they could make it easier for you by rejecting you from some of 'em." Mulder nodded, knowingly. Despite the anxiety and the awkwardness between them, William felt very comfortable talking to this man."Georgetown, Stanford, USC, Duke, Oxford..." "Oxford?" Mulder's eyebrows raised. He sighed and leaned back in his chair when William nodded. Mulder pointed to the framed diploma on the wall next to the door. "Class of '82." "Did you like it?" William was eager for any sort of advice where attending college was concerned. Mulder shrugged. "At the time, sure. But you have to understand, I was running from a family and past I longed to forget. As it was, I never did escape, I just prolonged the inevitable and then added to it," he bit his lip, staring at his son, then let out a loud breath, somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle. "I can't believe you're sitting here in front of me, but more than that, I'm finding it difficult reconciling how little I know about you and how much less you know about me and your mother. Sometimes the truth is the hardest thing to believe. You're proof of that." William squinted his eyes, pursing his lips in the same way both of his parents did when they were trying to piece something together in their minds. "How am I proof of that?" Mulder shrugged. "According to all scientific evidence, you should never have been born, never conceived even. You shouldn't be here." William was confused. "What do you mean, I was an accident?" He felt the beginnings of anger starting to surge through his blood, believing suddenly that his parents had truly not wanted them. He had always hoped there would have been a better explanation than that. "I was an unwanted pregnancy?" Mulder stood and spoke fiercely. "Never say that again. You were the most desired pregnancy in the world and you weren't an accident. And you were, most certainly, never unwanted just unsafe." William scoffed. "Well if I wasn't an accident, what was I?" "A miracle." Mulder's voice softened as he sank back into his chair. He would have said more, when Scully came through the door, not looking up at first. "Mulder, I-oh," she said, noticing the other man. "I thought you didn't have a patient. Sorry." "No," Mulder said. "This is no patient, just...." he trailed off. "Well," she said, "Are you going to introduce me?" "I don't have to," he replied, as William stood up and faced her. She dropped the bag of groceries she had been carrying and stumbled to the nearest chair, her hands shaking as she brought them up to her mouth. She sank into the seat, curling into herself, as tears sprang into her eyes that matched the same pair staring back at her from across the room. "Mulder... how did you? When did -? But -? Oh my god." She could barely manage any words at all. She stood up, slowly, unsure of how well her legs could currently support her body, and walked over to stand directly in front of her son. She did nothing at first, just stared at him, at all his so familiar features and then tentatively reached up a hand to brush through his dark red hair, a color that blended her fiery locks and Mulder's deeper brown hues. It was coarser than the baby peach fuzz she remembered late at night, but it was still soft and reminded her of the way Mulder's hair felt when she ran her fingers through it. She moved her hands down his face, feeling his warm, vulnerable flesh move with the pulsing of his blood and the tiny movements of his muscles reacting to her touch. His shoulders were firm, very distinguished just like Mulder's, and as he stood there, she was shocked by how much he looked like his father. She took a step back from him, bringing her hands back to her mouth. "I never dared hope this day would ever happen." William turned to look at Mulder, then to Scully, and back to Mulder. He shook his head and sat down, now not looking anywhere but at his own two hands. "I don't understand." "Of course you don't," replied Mulder, who had had more time than Scully to recover from the shock of seeing his son and was able to speak better than her. William looked up, right into Mulder's eyes. "I want to understand. I want to believe the truth you said is so hard to believe in, but I need your help." Scully was awed at how her son's words were so like her own and like Mulder's, but so different because he was willing to ask for help. "Will you help me?" Mulder studied him for a moment, gauging his son's sincerity, before speaking. "We should get out of here. How'd you get here?" "I took the Max Rail from the airport." Mulder nodded. "Do you mind coming home with us? I promise, we won't do anything psychotic. Nothing more than sigh a lot, maybe cry a little, and perhaps get emotional over the whole ordeal." William chuckled softly. "I don't mind at all." The drive to Mulder and Scully's house in Southwest Portland was quiet and uneventful. The only conversation was when Mulder would point out to William, who had never been to Oregon, certain landmarks of Portland like the Willamette River and Mount Hood, which stood looming over the city like a grandfather watching over all of his children. When they pulled up in front of the Victorian style home painted a soft cream with a dark brown roof, wrap around porch, and neatly kept lawn and garden, William felt his own eyes getting a little teary. It looked like such a lovely home, he suddenly felt a deep longing that he could have grown up there, with these people who were practically strangers to him, and yet so familiar, as his parents. But of course, they were his parents it was just that he found it so hard to think of them in this capacity. His own memories did not include them, although sometimes at night he would have dreams when a tall, dark haired man and his shorter, redhead companion would be standing in the shadows of his life, watching from a distance all the moments he treasured. As if, somehow, they had always been there with him, at least deep on the inside if nothing more tangible than that. Inside the house, Scully brought out a pitcher of iced tea and glasses and then sat on the sofa next to Mulder, facing William in the armchair opposite them. She clutched at his arm, wrapping her fingers tightly around his, squeezing so that her knuckles were white. It must have hurt him, but William noticed that he didn't seem to react to the pain, just dealt with it because it must have been insignificant to the other pain they were feeling. It was a pain William did not understand but that he hoped he would soon, after speaking with them. Mulder was the first to speak. "It's hard to decide where to begin. The logical place is, of course, the beginning. But who knows where the beginning really is. And it's hard to decide what to tell and what not to tell." William motioned towards his stuffed backpack that he had deposited in the corner. "My return flight isn't for two days. I don't have a room at any motel yet, but maybe I could stay here. And then you can tell me everything because that is what I would really like to know. Everything." "Everything is so much," said Scully. William looked at her. "So is living almost eighteen years and always wondering who you are, never knowing." Scully nodded. "It is eighteen this year, isn't it?" "Next month," William replied. "Yes, I know. The 20th." She lifted her free hand up and down several times, before removing her other hand from Mulder's grasp. She stood up. "I have something for you." She left the room for a moment and returned carrying a large shoebox. She placed it on the coffee table between them and stared at it, while she spoke to William. "We will gladly tell you everything. In this box, however, are letters. Your letters, to you, from us. There are a couple from some other people, from early in your life. One is from a woman who delivered you, another from your godfather who was a close friend to Mulder and I. There are a few from a group of men who call themselves the 'Lone Gunmen.' They are dead now, but were precious to us and they always loved you. They were so happy when you came into this world, almost as happy as Mulder and I. They sacrificed their lives so that we could all be alive today," she sighed deeply, holding back more tears. "And the rest are from Mulder and me, written during late nights when the pain got to unbearable, in moments when we longed to hold you and kiss you and tell you how much we loved you. And on your birthdays, all of them. There is one letter, also, that I wrote when I gave you up for adoption; I wrote it for you on your eighteenth birthday, although I never dreamed I would be able to give it to you. So here they are. Your letters. Your life that might have been in a box." William took the box, but only set it aside. He had other questions he wanted answered first. "Why didn't you want me?" It was the biggest question looming in his mind and he feared and dreaded the response. Mulder shook his head. "We did want you." Scully had tears in her eyes, making it hard for her to see."You were our miracle." She clutched once again at Mulder's hand. "You keep saying that, but I don't understand." Mulder nodded. "Of course, that's why you're here. To understand. It may take the whole time you're here, or longer, but we will tell you everything, just like you asked. There is nothing we could deny you." William was still bitter. "You denied me my family. My life with you." Asob escaped Scully, while Mulder replied. "Better that than any life at all." William was silent. "I think I know where to start now. Not at the beginning, that will come later. Rather, I'll start in the middle after a brief prologue to tell you about Samantha." William settled into his chair and listened as Mulder began to tell their story. Part Two -- Mulder's Story I was twelve when she was taken, my sister, abducted from our home. I blamed myself because I had dreams that she called to me for help and I could do nothing. I believed aliens had taken her. My parents were torn apart after her disappearance, but did not divorce, so I grew up in a broken home, tormented by a cruel past and by a shady government force that my father belonged to but could not control. Rather it controlled him. And after I graduated from Oxford and joined the FBI, it tried to control me. I was a promising agent, the Bureau's best when it came to criminal and psychological profiling. But I gave it up, I threw it away, when I found The X-Files. They were hidden away in the basement of the J. Edgar Hoover building, dusty from neglect and long forgotten. I unearthed them and gave new life to them. The FBI was sad to have me leave my golden pedestal, but they let me settle in the basement, nonetheless. I became a problem, however. I broke protocol and turned in reports they deemed laughable. I had become a joke, good ole 'Spooky Mulder' down there chasing little green men. I took my job seriously, though. I immersed myself in the paranormal, continuously searching for any proof of the unnatural and always grasping at any possible connections to my sister. In 1992, having been on The X-Files for two years and going through new partners each month, the higher-ups assigned Dana Scully, your mother, to be my latest partner. She had a scientific background, and their hopes were that she would be able to debunk my work and then they could get me out of their way. What they hadn't counted on was your mother's integrity. She looked at things critically, through a scientific eye, but she would not hide the irrefutable facts that some things could not be rationally explained. She was not willing to do their dirty work. Don't get me wrong. Scully didn't jump onto my "seeing is believing" bandwagon, although nine out of ten times she missed the seeing part and therefore the believing had nothing to follow. But eventually, she did see and after that, she began believing. We spent eight years together on The X-Files, although a few times they were shut down, but we still spent those years partnered at the FBI. Throughout that time, we grew to trust each other over all others, to be able to speak to each other through a mere glance and even to sense the other's presence, state of mind, their well being. We respected each other from the beginning and rapidly became friends. Most relationships we had held before coming together dissolved and those that didn't became mutual. It was soon that we could only truly function when we were together. Despite the fortune of our relationship, there was a wickedness that also came with The X-Files. I can't even begin to recount all the times either of us were close to death. In our second year together, one of the worst tragedies befell us. Scully was abducted, taken, by what I thought at first to be aliens but what we both later learned were actually officials from a secret shadow department of the government. These were men beyond law, beyond the United States. These were men doing the dirty work of an alien force, hoping that their crimes against humanity would bring them salvation in the event of an alien colonization. I know this stuff sounds like science fiction, but you have to believe me its true. Scully was gone for several months. I refused to give up hope of finding her, but even her mother fell victim to despair and began to make funeral arrangements. When she showed up in a DC hospital, battered and unconscious, but at least alive, I felt overwhelming joy that lasted mere seconds. When I saw her body, lying in that hospital bed, bruised, swollen, hardly recognizable, even her eyes taped shut... I couldn't handle the possibility that she would never truly live again. But she did live. She says it was me, my strength that kept her going and my presence that 'pulled her back to shore.' I don't know about this whole spiritual thing, but I was never so grateful in my life. There were other close calls. I had my share of beatings and near deaths. I was almost burned to death in a buried and abandoned railway car. I was exposed to a substance we eventually learned was the blood of alien-human hybrids, poisonous to humans. If not for Scully's expertise I would have died. Again, in Russia, I was exposed to an alien virus so that they could test a vaccine. I realize now, looking back, that pretty much every time I tempted fate was when I left Scully. When I foolishly ditched her for some meaningless lead. I was naïve then and had not yet realized that being together with Scully was far more important than any proof; any cause. There of course, was a more recent ditch. But it wasn't really A ditch; she knew I was going. I thought she was at risk; I only wanted to protect her. She figured out, too late, that it wasn't her they were after. It was me, and I was walking right into the lions den. Our boss and our friend, your godfather, came with me. So I wouldn't be alone. Neither of us could foresee what was going to happen. I was abducted, by the aliens, taken. I was tested, tortured, God knows what else. When I was returned, months later, I had barely any breath left in me. I died. I was dead. I was buried. They had a funeral for me and it practically tore Scully up. She would have died, too, but she had another reason to continue. She was pregnant . . . with you. But see, here's the funny thing about that. After her own abduction, Scully was left barren. Apparently, her ova had been taken for government projects and testing. Through some very dangerous sneaking around, I managed to find some of them and steal them back. I had them tested immediately, but was told they weren't viable. I didn't tell Scully; I felt she had had enough heartbreak, having just found out that she had cancer, another side affect of her abduction. She recovered, eventually; I found a cure, of sorts. It seemed to have worked, though, and when she found she had a daughter she knew nothing about, a daughter that died just after she found her, I had to tell her about her ova. She was upset I had not told her sooner, but understood my reasons. However, she refused to give up so easily and took her ova to be tested again. This time, she was told that they were viable; that she could get pregnant with them, but the sooner the better. The only thing she needed was a father. At this time, we had known each other for five, almost six years. We were more than friends, but not lovers. We were bonded, in some unknown internal way. The clinic offered to provide her with information about anonymous donors, but she refused. Scully had someone in mind: me. When she asked me, I hesitated, only because I did not want it to come between us; to ruin what we already had. But I also knew how happy it would make her and that there was really only one woman in this whole world I would want to carry my child and it was her. I agreed. She went through the procedure. When she went to get the results I had waited for her back at her apartment. She had wanted to go alone. However, the quiet, gentle clicking of the door as she shut it behind her gave away the truth. I knew, before she told me, that it had not worked. 'It was my last chance,' she told me. But something inside me did not, was not willing to believe that. I told her to 'never give up on a miracle.' For a while, we both did. But somewhere down the road, we found another 'miracle,' of sorts. Love. We finally were able to see how much we loved and were in love with the other. It was a secret romance; we felt obliged to hide it from the FBI, for the sake of our jobs, and from others for the sake of our lives, knowing that anyone could be spying for the shadow government we knew were still trying to find new ways to harm us and to beat us down. So when I left Scully in DC to go back to Oregon with Skinner, to look for this UFO and was abducted, I did not know she was pregnant. We had spent a night in a motel a week earlier in Oregon. She had come to me, shaken, and that was the night we figured out you were conceived. How could we have known, though, believing her barren. We still don't know how it happened. We just have to believe that there was a greater force at work, one higher and more benevolent than even the shadow government. That's why you're our miracle. Scully went through the first three months of her pregnancy alone, searching desperately for me. She spent the next three mourning my death, and I was dead. Buried for three months when our boss, Skinner, found clues that I might not be completely dead. He had my body dug up, took me to a hospital where they found a thread of life within me. By some other miracle of medicine and science that Scully was able to figure out, I was saved. I survived. Part of it had to do with a procedure the aliens had performed during my abduction. But without Scully's expertise I would have just turned into another... who knows, some device for an alien agenda. She saved me, though. When she told me about the pregnancy, I was wary and bitter at first. I still wondered how, but I was more stupid than that and I was jealous. I had been gone too long, I told myself, it was someone else's. And then, when there was no doubt that it was mine, I relaxed. I could make jokes about 'going down swinging' and about an imaginary relationship with the pizza guy. But there was still a fear. Forces were after her; after her baby. You were born without me by Scully's side, with another agent there to help deliver in a secret location I forced her not to tell, out of her own safety. I realized, what I thought was too late, that I had to find Scully. I had to be there, no matter what. This was too important. By some sensation I found her, where you were born. When I got there, from a helicopter I had used FBI resources to hire (despite the fact that I had been fired two months earlier), there were dozens of cars leaving the building, cars from alien agents that had been sent to witness the birth and, we thought, to take you away. As the helicopter hovered near the ground, I jumped down and began pounding on car windows, yelling desperately for Scully or her locations. I was ignored and kept moving on when Monica, the woman with her, called my name. I couldn't get to Scully's side fast enough. She was weak, she had to get to a hospital soon and you did too, but you were there, wailing at the top of your lungs. And Scully was cognizant for just long enough to tell me she loved me before passing out. I managed to get you two to the hospital just in time. I stayed for a while, but left when her family arrived, not wanting to cause any conflict with her brother who, I suppose, still hates me. He didn't know I was the father and it was certainly not the time to tell him. Scully was back at her apartment that night, with you, and I came by, letting myself in quietly with my key. The apartment felt warmer than normal, cozier. I smiled at the few baby presents piled on the coffee table and some of my own knick-knacks mingled with hers on the shelves from when I had started staying there instead of at my own apartment. I still remember the awe on the Gunmen's faces as they watched you. Seeing me, of course, they made a hasty exit, pausing just long enough to leave their presents and relate their amazement at my ability to find the two of you just in time. It seemed so simple to me: there had been a light, so I followed it. She handed you to me and for the first time, I held you in my arms. You gurgled a little as she told me that she had decided to name you William, after my father, who despite the mistakes he made in his life, was a good man and had always done the best he could. Scully related to me the fears she had carried with her throughout the pregnancy, and was still unsure of why all those people had come to see you born and then did nothing. I told her that maybe you weren't what they had thought you would be, but that didn't make you any less of a miracle. I realized then that all of our fears were not about some alien or government force, but rather the possibilities; the truth we both knew. "Which was what?" asked William, softly and a little shaken still from his father's story. It was well past midnight. Mulder leaned down to Scully and kissed her. "That we loved each other and that we could actually have the family we desired." Mulder's look became melancholy then. William noticed it. "But you couldn't. Something happened. What?" Mulder sighed and continued his story. Forces beyond our control were pulling us apart, forcing us to go separate ways. A person, I guess he was a friend, he just had trouble always being our friend, tipped us off. I was not safe. I had to leave or else I would put myself into more danger, and in doing so I would have put you and Scully into more danger as well. Leaving was my only way, I felt, to protect you. It was silly of us to think that you would be okay without me. When I was gone, both Scully and I were fed various lies and deceptions. We fell victim to them. And while I was gone, Scully discovered that you were more than just our own miracle. You possessed gifts that, if the right people learned of them, you would have been taken away and made the subject of various tests and experiments. She hid you as well as she could, but it was not well enough. Eventually, a man who we had thought was dead, a man who knew more than he cared to, brought to Scully a vaccine. It was the means to end your gifts; to make you just a normal child. It was all we could have wanted for you. But even after you were vaccinated, Scully knew you were still at risk. She knew that, no matter what, this shadow government would still hunt you down. That was when she made the painful decision, in my absence, to give you up for adoption. Had I been there, I probably would have only made it harder. One or the other of us would have seen the reason in giving you up and the other would have pleaded and grasped desperately at ways to keep you. It would not have worked out. When I came back into the picture, I was being put on trial for murder. It was a setup. I had been led to a government facility where I learned the date of an alien colonization that this shadow government had arranged with the aliens. In trying to escape the facility, a man I knew to be one of these super soldiers that do not die, was pushed off of a high catwalk during a skirmish with me. I was blamed. There was no body, but the government didn't care. They had enough lies to convict me. The same man who told me to leave after your birth was the same man that helped me escape before my execution. He helped Scully and I escape, find the truth, and set up a life in Canada. We fought from over the border. We won, I suppose, as far as humanity is concerned. No one will ever know about the battle we fought and our names will never be mentioned in history books, but that's okay. We didn't do it for the recognition. We did it because we knew we were the only ones who could and who would. After it was all over, the same man and also your godfather, Skinner, helped us start a new life for ourselves here in Oregon. We wanted to find you, but after weighing the possibilities decided against it. The adoption had been anonymous, so it would have been near impossible for us to find you. And even if we could have found you, it had been ten years since your adoption. You would know your foster family too well to come live with us. We didn't want to disrupt your life anymore than we had by giving you up. So you see, William, you were never unwanted by us. We never stopped loving you and we never stopped thinking about you. You were the child we had dreamed about; you were our miracle and we had had to let you go. But we never once wanted your life, and ours, to end up as they did. It seems fate just isn't that kind to some people. At least Scully and I were lucky enough to still have each other, if not you. If not our miracle. Part Three -- Distant Memories William was silent. They were all silent now. William bit his lip, much in the same way both his parents often did. They had been up all night; it was three a.m. He was tired, he was hungry, and he was thirsty. But none of those things mattered to him at the moment. All that entered into his mind was the story he had just been told. He paused another moment and then, taking a deep breath, looked up at Mulder and Scully. His parents. He found his mind didn't stutter when this thought occurred to him; at least internally, he had accepted them. His gaze deepened as he looked at them. "I remember when you said back in your office that sometimes the truth is the hardest thing to believe. And I'm so confused, because what you just told me sounds so outrageous that no one in their right mind would be believe it. Which, I guess, would support your comment. But I find myself accepting it without any reasonable explanation. It's not that I want it to be true so badly that I'm willing to believe it. But rather that... something inside me just knows that it is true. It can sense it, almost like a very distant memory. I don't know." Mulder nodded. "That's because it is a very distant memory. Recessed in your brain are all the memories of your brief time with us, from the time I first held you in my arms to the many times Scully would sing Three Dog Night to you in an off key." "Joy to the World," William said it as a fact, not a question. He looked into Scully's eyes and the reaction he saw there confirmed his statement. Mulder continued. "And besides all that, we are a part of you and in some way, I believe, our own memories become part of you as well." Scully yawned, loudly, and then blushed, embarrassed. Mulder chuckled. "Maybe we should all get to bed; continue things in the morning." Scully nodded. "I'll make pancakes." They all stood and Mulder and Scully showed William upstairs to the spare bedroom. It was on the plain side, with cream colored walls, and a quilt of soft, buttery yellow. There was a dresser on one wall, a sparsely filled bookcase on another. A couple pieces of framed artwork hung on the walls. As William set his bag on the bed and began pulling a few items from it, Scully went to the bookcase and pulled out what looked like a large photo album from it. She didn't say anything just laid on the nightstand. She muttered "goodnight" and began to leave, Mulder, just placing his hand onto the small of her back, when William grabbed her arm, pulling her back around to face him. He looked into her confused eyes and then took her into his arms, embracing her with the warmth of a true son. He did the same to Mulder, while she wiped the moisture away from her eyes."I found you," was all he said to them before they left for the night. William washed his face in the bathroom across the hall and changed into a pair of pajama pants and an undershirt. He climbed into bed, sighing into the crisp sheets. He looked over at the nightstand, contemplating just turning off the light and drifting off to sleep, or staying up a while longer to look at the photo album his mother -- God, his mother -- had set there for him. He didn't have to think hard before hefting the album onto his lap and flipping open the cover. Part Four -- The Photo Album William as a baby, the picture taken at the hospital. There was one in a cozy room, perhaps his parents' old Apartment, where he was held by a strange short, balding man with skuzzy stubble and surrounded by two others, one with stringy blonde hair and thick glasses, and another in a suit with a neatly trimmed beard. They were grinning like idiots; perhaps they were those Lone Gunmen he had heard about earlier in the evening. The caption read "Langly, Frohike, and Byers with little Will." His adoptive family had never called him Will; always William. Another baby picture, in the same place, perhaps the same night, this time in his mother's arms. Her smile could not have been bigger. The next must have been taken a moment later, this time in his father's large, muscular arms. Mulder's head was bent down closer to the baby's and his gaze was lifted upwards gazing into the eyes of the person taking the photo -- Scully. His face was a mixed salad of pleasure, amazement, gratitude, and unrelenting joy. His eyes glittered and his skin simply glowed. There were several more photos taken that night. One of the three of them: mother, father, and son. Then there came a series of photos from perhaps the next day, all of them featuring William and one or two other people. There was a tall, bald man with wire glasses and a broad smile across his lips. The caption said, "Will with Skinman." Another was with a couple; a dark-haired woman and a man with sandy brown hair and a haggard face, both of them grinning. Another was with an older woman that looked just like William's mother; perhaps it was his grandmother. There were other people that looked like his mother, the captions revealing that they were"Bill" and "Charlie," and another which read "Bill, Tara, and Matthew with Will." So this was his family. The family he had never known and that had known him only briefly. Turning the pages, there were other photos without him. There were two of a young girl, captioned "Emily," with short blonde hair and some of Scully's features; perhaps this was the lost daughter he had heard about earlier. There were some of a couple William did not recognize; judging from the captions they were Mulder's family. Among this group of photos were several of a girl with dark hair and Mulder's eyes at various ages, although never more than eight or nine years. After that age, she seemed to have disappeared. William remembered the beginning of Mulder's story; it must have been his sister Samantha, the one that had disappeared in his childhood. Then came a series of redheads that were unmistakably Scully's family. He saw photos of her as a child, many with her siblings -- Melissa (often captioned as "Missy"), Bill, and Charlie. William grimaced when he noticed, flipping back, that there were no pictures of him as a baby in the arms of "Missy," he should ask about her in the morning. Then there were a few of his parents, just them, at various places. Some seemed to have been taken while they were working on cases for the FBI; in those photos their faces were grimmer, more tight lipped. There were others, though, where they were more casually dressed, and their expressions were easier, relaxed and calm. William noticed that, as the photos progressed chronologically, that the way they stood together changed. The earlier ones, they just stood amicably by the other's side, smiling pleasantly. But gradually, their arms around their shoulders became gentler, tenderer and their expressions became more cognizant of the other. In some photos they weren't even paying attention to the camera, just each other. And towards the end, some had been captured of them embracing and even kissing. William wondered what that kind of love must be like. He didn't think he would ask them about it, deciding that there were no words in the human language that could come anywhere close to describing that kind of love; that kind of connection. But thinking about it, William sensed deep within himself the power that kind of love and connection can possess. Perhaps, he thought, that was what enabled and encouraged him to find them in the first place. Part Five -- Over Pancakes "I noticed your light was on a bit later than ours last night," Scully said to William in the morning, while she flipped the first batch of pancakes. Rare Oregon sunlight poured in through the kitchen windows, filling the room with a rich, yellow glow. Scully was still in her bathrobe and her red hair was tousled. Mulder sat at the table, engrossed in the Sports section, wearing a ratty T-shirt and loose cotton pajama pants. His hair was mussed as well, and William imagined his was, too. It was Saturday, so no one had anywhere to be, which meant that they had the whole day together, as well as Sunday until William's 8 p.m. flight back to Montana. William nodded. "Yeah, I was looking through the photo album . . . getting to know my family." Mulder set down his paper and looked up intensely at William."And what'd you think?" "I wish I could have known them," he hadn't even thought of the words before they came pouring out of his mouth. "Who is Missy?" Scully made a gurgling, choking noise in the back of her throat but coughed it away and continued her focus on the pancakes. Mulder remained silent, just watching her carefully, waiting. Finally, a bit more composed, Scully turned to face William."She was my older sister. She died back in '95 from a bullet that was meant for me. It was during a crucial point in our investigations into the shadow government." William bit his lip, nodding. "I don't mean to drag up all these difficult memories, but I just want to know. I've never felt a need to know so much in all my life." Scully nodded. "It's okay. Who else do you want to know about?" "Emily." "My daughter. The one I didn't know about; the one who died shortly after I found her." Scully lapsed into silence, and Mulder took over to complete the story. "Emily was an experiment. She was half human, half alien -- a hybrid. It was probably for the better, for the girl's own good, that she died before any more harm could be done." William grimaced. "The girl with the dark hair, is she Samantha?" Mulder nodded. "And the couple with her in some pictures? Are they your parents?" "They're both dead now, but yes. You're named after my father, although Scully's father was also a William." Scully came over to them, with plates of pancakes in each hand and sat down with them to begin to eat. "But you're named after William Mulder. That's the name that appears on your birth certificate." William chewed silently for a moment. "Maybe after breakfast, we could go through the album together and you could tell me about some of the people that are pictured holding me as a baby." "Of course," said Mulder. They ate a while more. "I have another question," said William. Mulder chuckled. "Just one?" William agreed. "In the all the captions, I'm referred to as 'Will.' Why?" Scully shrugged. "We just felt it fit; that was what we enjoyed calling you." William's face scrunched into a pensive stare. "All my life I've been called William. My foster parents kept my given first name, but it was always William and for some reason... it never did feel quite right. I suddenly understand." "What do you want us to call you?" William looked up into Scully's eyes, deeply. "I'm Will; call me that." Part Six -- Introductions Later, after eating breakfast and after everyone had showered and groomed themselves for the day, they sat down on the back deck. It was an unusually warm day for April in Oregon, but they took advantage of the moderate temperature and the sunlight. The trees rustled as a light breeze swept through them. William settled into his seat, Mulder and Scully on either side of him, and flipped open the photo album. The three of them sat there for the better part of the day, recounting stories of memorable old FBI cases and family gatherings. Mulder and Scully told Will about Agents Reyes and Doggett. Reyes, apparently, had delivered Will and Doggett had been Scully's partner when Mulder had been abducted and when he was supposedly dead. The two of them had grown to be very good friends of his parents and had helped them along the way whenever they could. In fact, Reyes was the one who suggested they move to Portland, having grown up there herself. Scully told Will all about her family, how she and Melissa would get up early Christmas morning and examine all their presents under the tree before every one else was up, and the one year their mom had found them and let them each open a present early. That was when Scully had gotten her gold cross, the one she still wore around her neck. She told him about playing with her two brothers, Bill and Charlie, and how she would stand up to their dares and taunts because she was a girl doing boy things. As they got older, Scully and Charlie grew closer as friends while Bill became more like their father. She told Will how, when her father died, Bill took the role of patriarch very seriously; how he had never liked Mulder and had never truly accepted him as a part of her life. Will looked from Mulder to Scully. "Did you guys ever get married?" Mulder coughed into his hand, looking away, while Scully slid out of her seat and inside. She was gone barely a minute before she returned, a small collection of photos in her hand. There were three of them, Will saw, when she handed them to him. They had been taken in an old church, with darkly stained wood walls and richly colored stained glass windows. The first one was of Scully, dressed in a floor length white dress. It had capped sleeves, an empire waist, and the trim along the bottom mimicked an eyelet pattern. The dress had accepts of yellow at the sleeve, waistline, and collar. She carried a bundle of yellow roses and her hair was pulled back simply, with a few curly wisps falling down around her face. Mulder stood beside her, grinning wider than she was, wearing a gray suit with a white shirt and yellow tie. His arm was wrapped tightly around her. The other picture was similar to this one, but they were joined by a small gathering of people that William recognized from other photos. There were those Lone Gunmen guys, their old boss Skinner, Scully's mother, and also a priest. The last photo was the one William couldn't stop staring at. Again, it featured his parents, but nestled between them in their arms was... him. Scully explained. "Mulder left barely a month after you were born, but it was enough time to plan and hold a small wedding. He had proposed right before he was abducted, at the airport before he left for the site in Oregon. After the abduction, though, and when I found out I was pregnant, I hid the ring. He had given me a ring. But with circumstances as they were, I did not want to propel any more rumors than necessary at the FBI. I made a habit of keeping it on me, either on the chain with my cross or in my pocket. Some days, I would feel so lonely for his touch that I would put it on my finger, sometimes twirl it around, the whole time with my hand in my pocket. It was a comfort." She held out her left hand, and the simple gold band glinted in the sunlight. "It still is." Will looked over to Mulder, who held up his own hand. He wore a similar ring. "Are these the only pictures you took?" Scully pursed her lips, making a slight humming sound. "There were others. My mom has several, Mulder has a couple at his office, as do I. And a few have been framed and are scattered around the house. These three are copies; the others are just pretty much the same." Will nodded, slowly understanding. The wedding itself had not been important to them, beyond the fact that it brought them together with some of their closest friends. What mattered to them, really, was the fact that they were married; that they did, indeed, have each other until death do them part. William swallowed and turned another page in the photo album, moving on. He heard all about Samantha, how she would call Mulder names as A child and how, despite that, she would come to him in the middle of the night when their parents were fighting. Mulder told Will about his namesake, how he had regretted his involvement with the shadow government and what he had subjected his daughter to; how Will's grandfather had lost his life in trying to help Mulder put the pieces of the puzzle together; how he had tried to make evil into a noble cause but failed. And Mulder told Will how he didn't really fail, because Mulder himself had gone on to destroy that evil thanks, in part, to his father's help. They told Will about Skinner, how they had been wary to trust him at first, but how he became their strongest confidant and aide. Skinner had been forced to deal with his own consequences because of his involvement with Mulder and Scully, but his help had proven to be imperative in all of the years they had known him. Without his help, they confessed, they could not have prevailed. There had been no issue when they decided to make him Will's godfather. In fact, he had been the first one Scully told about her pregnancy, and the only one she trusted with that secret besides the Lone Gunmen. Mulder and Scully told Will about the Lone Gunmen. Mulder had known them since 1991 and they had really introduced him to the shadow government and had helped him with facts, clues, and technology throughout the years. But besides that, they were his friends and they rapidly became Scully's, as well. They were genuinely nice guys with honest values and true intentions. Besides friends, they had also been a comfort to Mulder and Scully. In fact, during Mulder's disappearance, she had trusted them with vital information about her pregnancy. While she had trusted Skinner only with the fact that she was pregnant, the Gunmen were the only ones to know that Mulder was the father until after Will was born. They had helped her to check and double check paternity and other associated tests and had helped her search for Mulder. They were also the only ones to know her fears and her doubts when, during particularly late nights, she would show up at their front door with an overnight bag. She would let them fix her a meal and bring her something to drink and she would just rant and rave or babble and they would just listen, offering whatever support, consolation, sympathy, or hope that they were capable of. She was still grateful for all that they did. The Lone Gunmen gave their lives, finally, right before she gave Will up for adoption, to save the world from a deadly virus. They had always loved Will. They felt some personal attachment to him, having known for so long what it had taken Mulder and Scully years to figure out. They would always be remembered. Part Seven -- Green and Gold Will had noticed the airport when he first flew into Portland. PDX International was on the smaller side, but beautiful, well kept, and very manageable. On Sunday evening, he didn't pay it so much attention. He was, instead, focused on the last few moments he was spending with his birth parents. Will had checked in at the ticket counter and he and Mulder and Scully had eaten an early dinner at the Rose City Café located just outside the security checkpoints to the three main terminals. Now the three of them took long, slow steps toward one of those checkpoints to say goodbye. Will stood beside the short line, and dropped his bag to the ground at his feet. He faced Mulder and Scully boldly, letting out a loud breath. "I dreaded what I would find here; what I would find when I found my parents. But I guess, after hearing all your stories, that people often fear things that don't need fearing. We are a very cautious, mistrusting society and that's too bad. But at least I wasn't disappointed," he blinked rapidly, trying to keep the growing moisture out of his eyes."I feel almost like I did grow up with you. I mean, my childhood memories are not what they would have been were that true; but I know so much about you and about the people that mattered to you and cared about me. And I know how much I meant to you; how much you care for me; how much you love me. I understand how much of a . . . miracle I was... am. I hope this isn't goodbye." Mulder shook his head. "It doesn't have to be. You know how much it would mean to us to be able to be part of your life again and for you to be a part of ours. That room is still vacant; you can have it if you want. For when you visit." Will smiled. "I would like that." The three embraced, long and hard, each of them muttering in the other's ear "I love you." As Will got into line and Mulder and Scully began to walk away, Will called out to them. "Mom! Dad!" They stopped in their path, before turning very slowly to face him. "One of the schools I got accepted to was the University of Oregon. I think I like green and gold, how about you?" Scully nodded, not trusting her voice to speak. "It seems like A good fit for you," said Mulder. Placing his hand on the small of Scully's back, they turned and continued back towards the parking lot, knowing they would see their son soon when they flew to Montana for his high school graduation. And then, when he started college, he could come up from Eugene for the weekend occasionally. They may have missed raising him, but they no longer had to miss him. The End Send feedback if you are interested in a sequel!
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