|
Title: Son Summary: Whose son is he? Follows Happy Birthday, Baby Boy Author Notes: Thanks to Meg, my awesome beta.
May 26th, 2019 "One day, you'll ask me to speak of a truth - of the miracle of your birth. To explain what is unexplained. And if I falter or fail on this day, know there is an answer, my child, a sacred imperishable truth, but one you may never hope to find alone. Chance meeting your perfect other, your perfect opposite - your protector and endangeror. Chance embarking with this other on the greatest of journeys - - a search for truths fugitive and imponderable. If one day this chance may befall you, my son, do not fail or falter to seize it. The truths are out there. And if one day you should behold a miracle, as I have in you, you will learn the truth is not found in science, or on some unseen plane, but by looking into your own heart. And in that moment, you will be blessed - and stricken. For the truest truths are what hold us together, or keep us painfully, desperately apart." His hands shake as he carefully folds the paper and tucks it back into its hiding spot in his pillowcase. It is signed simply by a woman whom he has never met, whom he did not know even existed until that fateful moment three days ago when he found it in a box of his baby things. The paper was yellow with age and ripped slightly on the corners. After finding the it, William was unable to continue going through the contents of the box, but now... Now, he had had time to fully understand the importance of the letter and was ready to face the rest that came with it. The few steps to the attic stairs seem like miles and as he gathers the courage to face his unknown beginnings, the steps suddenly continue forever. Seconds that seem like hours pass by as William ascends. Once he reaches the top, he stares at the box, stepping toward it slowly. He knows that if he does not open it now, he will never be able to open it. Kneeling beside it, his fingers tremble as he touches the top with trepidation. The top of the box is removed, and before he realizes it, the contents are open to him. His life... he is not who he thought. He carefully goes through the contents: a blue bunny-eared hat, a rattle, his birth certificate. This he examines with interest. "William Fox Mulder." Mulder? That name is familiar, and he thinks that maybe he went to grammar school with a boy named Mulder. On the bottom, it says his mother is Dana Katherine Scully, his father Fox William Mulder. He realizes, with a jolt, that he is named after his father. After long minutes, William places his birth certificate on the floor with reverence. He continues to go through the box, and finds a picture. A picture. A picture of a red-haired woman and a tall, brown haired man who William thinks he bears a great resemblance to. They look achingly familiar, and William desperately tries to place them in his mind. Where does he know them from? Where... he sighs, and as he stands he carefully takes both his birth certificate and the picture of his birth parents in his hands. The trip down to his room seems to be infinitely shorter and somehow easier to make. William sits on the bed staring down at his birth certificate. Dana Scully and Fox Mulder. He looks up and around his room and his eyes fall upon the card three random children made for him on his birthday. And then it hits him. THAT is where he saw the people in the picture, Dana Scully and Fox Mulder. He gets up, moves to the wall and stares at one of the cards. It's signed Margaret Mulder and there is a phone number on it. 349-4869. 349-4869. William stares at it for a long moment before blindly reaching for his cell phone, which rests on the nearby desk. He picks it up, and slowly dials the number. 349-4869. The LED display glares brightly at William, unaware of the importance of the call. He presses the call button. The phone rings. And rings. And rings. Finally, seconds, minutes, hours later, -- William is not sure-- a woman picks up the phone. "Hello?" Silence. William finds himself unable to speak. The voice is filled with impatience. "Hello?" After a moment that was at once brief and indescribably long, he finds his voice. "Um... May I speak with Dana Scully or Fox Mulder, please?" Suspicion was the next emotion he hears expressed in the voice. "Who is this?" the voice demands to know. William lowers his voice for a reason he cannot place. "William." They would never know whom that is, he decides as he speaks, so he elaborates. "William Van de Kamp. I'm... their son." Silence, followed the soft thud of a phone falling from a person's hand. the end
Continued in Never Far Away
|