Author: Kalen Spooky Title: Shiny Bruise Feedback: spooky_0913@hotmail.com Rating: G Category: Angst, Spoilers: William, general S9 dealing with William Summary: She often had fears. Of what he actually was. Even when she finally held him in her arms. She had always been afraid to believe. Author's notes: At the end of the story, or I'll spoil it away ;) ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ "I know you're worried about him ... that there are things about him that you just can't explain -- but even if you were to get those answers what would it change?" "Mom, he's my child..." "And you have to love him and raise him in spite of everything. Dana, God has given you a miracle. A child that wasn't supposed to be. Maybe it’s not to question ... just to be taken as a matter of faith." "Mom, I can't take this on faith. I need to know. I need to know if it's really God I have to thank." (Provenance 9x10) ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ March 23, 2009 She sat, staring at the photo. Her fingers skimming over its smooth surface, the other thumb positioned at the lower right hand corner of the page, ready to turn it and move on to the next. But she couldn't do it. The thick weight of the file in her hands felt unstable in her trembling hands. She couldn't cry. She couldn't let the tears fall. They would smear the ink on the pages, making the information unreadable. People would know. They would sympathize with her. Pat her back, with a condescending look, pretending to understand her pain. A pain she couldn't even begin to understand herself. She just couldn't turn the page. She couldn't take her eyes off the photograph. Her eyes would naturally close and re-open, blinking, normally, every few seconds. Every time they would open again, every time the photograph would imprint itself on her retina, felt like a slap in the face. Over and over and over. One invisible bruise after another. She had often had fears. Of what he actually was. Even when she finally held him in her arms. She had always been afraid to believe. When the weird happenings had began, she had been terrified that she would have to stand on the side lines, and find out all her worst fears were true. That there was no miracle. No God to thank. But the photograph stared back at her. And slapped her. And asked Pouty lips. Slap. Soft, thin brown hair. Lightening to dark blond in the sun. Slap. That nose. Chuckle between the tears. And another slap. Those eyes, squinting in the sun. Slap. She can't make out their color, but the file says they've turned green. Slap. The photograph spoke volumes. Slap. She leaned her forehead against the cold surface of the desk, clutching the folder in her hand, arm outstretched in front of her, shaking. Eyes open, she breathed through her open mouth, trying to be in control, trying to calm down. Heavy breaths. She looked up at the photograph again. And her miracle stared back at her. Where was he now? She tried to regain some composure. She knew they would find out eventually. And try to stop them from working on this case. Personal involvement, they would say. It would jeopardize the investigation. So she needed to be calm. She needed to pretend she could do it. That the 7 years that had passed since she last saw him, since she last held him, had been enough to create a rift of detachment between herself and her own flesh and blood. The child she had fought so hard to have. The child she couldn't help doubting, even though the doubt was tearing at her from the inside. Like she was possessed by a demon and trying to fight it out of her body, so she could look in her baby's eyes and see herself and his father. And nothing else. She looked up abruptly at the soft sound of shoes being dragged along the floor and saw him standing in the doorway, partly hidden in the shadow from the corridor. He leaned against the frame and made no move to come closer. His face now illuminated by the soft light coming from the desk lamp. His eyes were dark, wide, glistening with what she thought were unshed tears, and looked at her with the same expression she would expect to see on a lost boy. Full of innocence, questions, fears and emptiness. The expression he wore when she told him she needed to go to the hospital, because she had cancer. When she told her not everything was about him. When she told him their son was gone. Like a lost boy's. Like her boy's. She opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out. She just stood there, one hand holding the file, the other in mid air, for no reason, mouth slightly agape. But couldn't find anything to say. He kept staring at her. She looked down at the photograph again and now she couldn't take it anymore. She held her free hand up against her face to stop the tears from falling onto the papers and he was at her side. Kneeling down beside her, he took her in his arms, but she didn't let go of the file. After long minutes of silence and quiet sobs, of him softly stroking her back with one hand and her hair with the other, he spoke, with a broken voice. "Skinner thinks it's better if we..." She broke free from his embrace and looked at him, eyes suddenly dry, and a cracked determination in her voice. "No. I won't stand on the sidelines while someone else investigates on my son's disappearance! They won't do this to me again" She shook her head repeatedly in determination, and he took hold of her hand, squeezing tight. "No, he thinks it's better if he is the main investigator. But we will work with him. He just... he doesn't want us to be pushed aside by other agents and doesn't want us to be on our own on this. He wants to take the case himself". Scully was shocked. "Skinner in the field? Why would he do that?" Mulder smiled a sad smile. "For us. He's concerned. He's a friend, not just the director, don't forget that." She nodded. And looked back at the file once again. William Van de Kamp Born in Democrat Hot Springs, Georgia 7 years old Date of disappearance: March 12, 2009 Disappeared from: Riverton (Wyoming) Parents: Rebecca Miller-Van de Kamp (deceased 03/12/2009) Frank Van de Kamp (deceased 03/12/2009) "He really was a miracle, Mulder..." she spoke. "I never doubted that..." he squeezed her hand. And she closed her eyes once again. Slap. Another bruise. Looked back at his son once again. Slap. The End "The end will be much quicker than the beginning I'm hoping that the things I said are remaining with you For every time I doubted you I give myself a shiny bruise And I will be the sweetest thing, surrender" - The Damnwells "Shiny Bruise" ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Author notes: Over at Haven there has been discussion about what would happen if Mulder and Scully got back to work for the FBI after movie 2 and had to deal the case of the disappearance of William Van de Kamp. This is my take on that idea, and also deals with the fact that I got the impression during S9 that Scully hadn't yet accepted the fact that William really was the miracle Mulder told her never to give up on. I hope you liked it, I'm usually not that good at writing angst :p