How To Talk To Your Son
Read it here or on AO3.
2016. Look in his eyes for the first time in nearly fifteen years. He doesn’t look the way you thought he would. More like Mulder than you anticipated, which is startling. He also looks a little like the dumpy woman fluttering about the porch, still in disbelief that a government helicopter just landed on her front lawn. He looks like her in way that old married couples are indistinguishable from each other, in the way that dogs start to look like their owners. Or is it the owners who start to look like the dogs?
“William?” you ask, even though you know.
“Yeah?” His voice hasn’t dropped yet.
“I’m Agent Scully, I’m going to need you to come with us.”
He looks to the woman on the porch, her colorless brown hair coming loose from its braid. “What is this about?” he asks.
“There’s not much time to explain,” you say, “but there’s a man in this helicopter who’s very sick and we think you might have a certain… element in your genetic makeup that can help him.”
His blue eyes flash–at least those are yours–as he tries to process. Then he says, “Okay.” Just like that, he believes you, and finally you think you understand how Mulder feels, after all these years.
2015. “Just think about it,” Walter says, and you do. You really do.
You have forgotten what it would be like to come home not smelling faintly of antiseptic and bile every day. You and Mulder are friendly. It wouldn’t be terrible to work with him again.