#jackson au

“We will have a festival,” Maria stated as the town listened while in The Tipsy Bison. “There will be food at the church, and then as soon as it gets dark, we’ll set off the fireworks.” Maria stepped down from her announcer position. The Anderson-Williams’ were sitting at their table. Chloe (15), Skylar (14), Emery (11), Laila (7), and Ellie were the only ones there. As there is a new member in the clan: Caleb (three days old). Abby asked Ellie if she and Caleb could stay home today since she was still recovering from the birth. Ellie said she would bring her some breakfast. Abby said no rush, so they’re eating there before she grabs food for Abby.

“Sky,” Ellie said to Skylar. “Grab some food for your mom; we’re about to head home.” Skylar rolled her eyes but went ahead and grabbed food for her mother. As they headed out, Maria stopped Ellie.

“Ellie,” she started. “Are you and the family coming for the Fourth of July?”

“Abby is still recovering,” Ellie says. “You know how birth is. She’s in a literal diaper as we speak.”

“Well, if you guys ever need a break, you can send the kids to the event, and I can look out for them.”

“Thanks, Maria. I’ll make sure to talk to Abby about it.” Maria said her goodbyes to the family as they headed out.

They arrive home, and Abby is asleep on the couch while Caleb lies in a bassinet next to her. Ellie silently snorted as she put a blanket on Abby. Abby suddenly jolts awake.

“What,” she said, tiredly. “Is it the baby?”

“No,” Ellie said. “I was just tucking you in, sleepy head.” Ellie sat next to Abby as Abby sat straight up. “How long was he up?” Abby put her hands over her face to rub the sleep off.

“Not that long. Hell, I don’t even know how long we slept for.”

“Well, we brought you food. So, go eat while Caleb sleeps.” Abby sighs and goes to their small kitchen/dining room and eats the food Skylar left on the table for her mother.

Later that night, after finally putting Caleb to sleep, three days old and already running things. Abby tucks herself in as Ellie joins her.

“So,” Ellie starts. “They’re having a Fourth of July celebration in a couple of days, and Maria asked if we’ll be there.”

“So, she wants us to drag a newborn to a loud festival and fireworks?” Abby asked. Ellie snorts.

“She says we can send the other kids there so we can have time just us three.”

“I mean, it could be fun. We could bring Caleb or even find a sitter, but I feel weird getting a sitter this early for him. Bonding is crucial at this time.”

“Well, he’ll be six days old on the event. We can bring him, and if he is fussy, we can leave the kids there. Chloe and Skylar can make sure Emery and Laila are fine. Emery might actually join us at home due to the sensory overload of the noise.”

“Okay,” Abby sighs. “Let’s go. We prepare Emery, of course, and make sure she has her headset or ear muffs. We tell her we can go home anytime she wants or when Caleb decides it’s time to go home.”

“Deal.”

July 4th, 2053

They decided to go—Emery reluctantly agrees, but wants to be with her family. Emery is attached to Abby the most, so being with her “mommy” helps. The booths had different types of food. One had barbeque made by the guys at The Clay Pit; another from The Tipsy Bison, and more from local townsfolk's version of a potluck. Ellie never ate the meat. Abby remembers Ellie telling her about the crazy cannibal and how it messed with her relationship with meat sometimes. Ellie just grabbed some food from The Tipsy Bison—mashed potatoes, green beans, and some water. The kids (excluding Emery and Caleb) ran to the games section.

“Ems,” Abby says, while holding a sleeping Caleb. “Why don’t you go play a game?” Emery shook her head. “They might have something you would like.”

“No,” Emery signed. Emery is nonverbal and signs her words.

“Okay, baby.” Abby rocked and bounced Caleb as he started to wiggle some. She put him in his carrier after a while.

It was officially dark, and the fireworks show was about to start. The whole family huddled together. As the fireworks went off, Caleb whined a little, and Ellie held him as they watched. Emery even enjoyed it herself.

“This turned out to be okay,” Abby said to Ellie.

  A few weeks passed by, and I’d volunteered to help out at the little school they’d established in town for the kids. Matthew continued his shifts on the watch, and we’d been getting along much better since our talk. The one person I hadn’t seen much of was Joel. He’d started to help out with construction and restoration projects around town, and I’d see him leaving for his shifts early in the morning. Around the same time I’d leave to set up for school. Every time I spotted him, I’d feel a pang in my chest. I wanted to talk to him, to talk about what I’d said that night, but he clearly didn’t want to hear it. He made that obvious by keeping his head down every time he left his house. I didn’t try to talk to him, didn’t trust myself not to make things worse. So instead, I acted like I didn’t care, like I was unphased by the way he’d shriveled up and evaporated from my life at the first sign of danger. I knew I’d scared him off. It was no secret, and the regret of not keeping my mouth shut was so crippling I’d barely left the house.          

 It was Saturday morning, and I was getting dressed to go to the community restoration of another abandoned house down the block. Matthew had told me it’d be a good way to get out of the house and “quit moping around.” I figured he was right, that I should meet some other folks in town if I was going to be here for a while. So, I pulled on the new pair of jeans Maria had traded for me, threw on a t-shirt I’d taken from Matthew’s stash, and headed out the door. 

          As I approached the crowd of people gathered around the house, anxiety twisted my stomach. It had been so long since I’d been a part of a community. For 20 years it had only been Matthew and I, just me, and then Joel and I. I stood awkwardly between two women who smiled welcomingly as I approached. We were being divided into groups and each given jobs. My group had been put in charge of knocking down and rebuilding the rotting walls inside the house. 

          I climbed up the steps along with my group and followed down the hall to meet our group leader. I had forgotten that Joel had been doing carpentry work, and my eyes widened at the sight of him standing there holding a sledge hammer and a couple of hard hats. Our eyes met, but he quickly broke the contact as he began to explain the directions. He walked along the line of people, passing out the hats. I was the last one in line. Butterflies fluttered around my rib cage when his hand brushed mine as he placed the hard hat into it. He paused his speech briefly, but continued on. “This house has a lot of rot and hasn’t been touched in years, so no matter what you do, do not remove your head protection.” He said before glancing at me. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. 

            We began with pulling down the walls that he’d made holes in with his sledge hammer. The gloves were far too big for my hands and kept slipping off when they got caught in the plaster. “How’s it goin’?” Joel’s voice rumbled from behind me. I spun around, ending up inches from him. “Me? Oh-I don’t have much experience ripping down walls, but fine I guess.” I sputtered. He nodded and continued to check on the other members of the group. I began to sweat from the repetitive movements of pulling and throwing the plaster, and from having the cloth over my face to protect from the dust. Without thinking, I took my hard hat off to wipe my forehead and pull my hair back. I heard Joel call out my name panickedly, but didn’t have time to react before a sickening crack rang out and I was knocked to the ground by a loose beam in the ceiling. Dark spots crowded my vision and I blinked a few times to clear them, but soon after my vision turned to darkness. 

           I only caught fragments of what happened after I got hit. I heard someone yell, “Does anyone know this girl?” and another voice yell, “I do. Don’t touch her!” I felt the sensation of being picked up and carried to a vehicle. Heard the same voice calling my name, and saying “Come on, sweetheart, you’re gonna be okay. Hurry up will ya? She’s bleeding everywhere!” I felt gentle slaps on my cheek, and opened my eyes briefly to see Joel’s face hovering over me. He had my head cradled in his lap, a hand pressing against the back of my head where I’d been hit. “Hi,” I whispered. He ran his thumb over my cheek, and whispered back, “Hey.” I smiled lightly before the light plus the pressure in my head forced me to close my eyes, but he patted my cheek again, “No, no, don’t close your eyes. You gotta stay awake for me, okay? We’re almost there.” I mindlessly whispered back, “I’m awake.” I tried my best to keep my eyes open and focus on Joel’s face, but the movement of the truck and the light shining in through the window were all too much, and eventually I fell unconscious. 

I awoke in a dark room. There was a faint, continuous beeping sound coming from beside me. I tried to sit up but my head was pounding and my stomach filled with nausea. My attempt to see where I was was fruitless. Both from disorientation, and since the only illumination was the sliver of light coming in from the crack in the door. My name being uttered suddenly filled the heavy silence. I followed the sound to a figure who was propped up in a chair to my right. “Matthew?” I asked groggily. “It’s me.” I finally recognized the voice. The soothing, yet deep and gravelly tone. It was Joel. “Joel? Where’s Matthew?” I asked as I attempted to sit up again. His hand fell onto my shoulder and gently forced me back. “Don’t try to sit up.” He advised gently, “Matthew isn’t-” The door opened and a figure walked in. “Mr. Miller, may I speak with you outside?” The person asked in a polite and calm tone. I watched as Joel’s shadow moved across the room and to the door. The two stood there, seemingly deep in conversation. I strained to hear them, but my head began to hurt worse from the effort and my ears were ringing slightly.  

Eventually, Joel nodded and made his way back to my side. “You remember what happened?” He asked as he sat back down into the chair. “I hit my head.” I answered. “That’s cute. You got your head hit by a support beam.” He spat back. “Sir.” the person who I could only assume was a nurse cleared her throat. Joel leaned back in his chair and let the woman approach. I kept my eyes on her as best as I could as I listened to her speak. She explained, in a much more comforting tone, “Miss, you have suffered blunt force trauma to the back of your head which caused a laceration and a small skull fracture. You likely have a moderate concussion and will have to lay low for the next few weeks to heal.” I huffed in disbelief. “A fractured skull? Does Matthew know?” I questioned panickedly. Joel began to speak, but the nurse cut him off, “Your brother has been notified. We suggest you rest as much as possible for the time being. Once we are happy with your vitals and change your wound dressing, we can discharge you.” She explained. I nodded slightly while twisting the fabric of the thin bed sheet between my fingers.

The nurse exited, leaving Joel and I to sit in silence. “So why are you here?” I asked dryly. “Because you were under my supervision.” He answered, mimicking my tone. I could tell he was annoyed with me. “Right. Go ahead, lecture me about following directions. I know I deserve it.” I said defeatedly. “I’m not allowed.” He sighed. “Oh so that’s what the nurse was lecturing you about.” I chuckled in realization, “So does that mean you have to be nice to me?” He answered, “Just long enough for you to heal.” I rolled my eyes, ignoring the dull ache behind them. 

We let another bout of silence pass before I spoke again, “So, am I ever going to get an answer about where my brother is?” Joel shifted in his chair and cleared his throat. A nervous tick. “He left for a mission with the watch. A supply trade with another community. He’ll be back in a few days.” He said quietly. “A few days? When the fuck was he going to tell me?” I asked angrily. “Shhh. Calm down. I promised the nurse I wouldn’t tell you, but you deserve to know. He wanted to tell you but he didn’t have much notice. You’re staying with me until you can function on your own.” I laid back in the bed, and tried to still my breathing. Becoming upset only made the nausea and the pressure in my head worse. “I don’t need to stay with you. I’ll be fine on my own.” I insisted. “You won’t be. Your head is cracked open. So, you don’t have much of a choice. It’s me or some randos. I figured you’d rather not be with complete strangers.” He said sternly. I thought for a moment. He was right, I didn’t have a choice. I knew brain injuries weren’t anything to fuck around with, so I needed to brush my ego aside and accept his help despite how confusing his sudden relapse in caring about me was. 

The nurses took my vitals and changed my wound dressing before handing me a bottle of pills and sending Joel and I on our way. I shielded my eyes from the blinding sun as I trailed behind Joel on the street, and he eventually slowed down for me out of pity. He held the door of his house open for me, and began to pour me a glass of water as I settled on his couch. 

            A few minutes passed and the thud of a plate hitting the coffee table next to me snapped me out of the fog I’d been in. I glanced to see what kind of offering it was this time. A sandwich that looked to have more than just meat and cheese. My stomach rumbled at the sight, and I looked up at Joel. “Thank you.” I said quietly as I reached for the plate. He nodded and sat down to eat himself. “The nurse gave me some medicine. Said you needed to eat beforehand. How’re you feelin’?” He asked. I finished chewing the delicacy and swallowed before answering, “Head is aching that’s for sure. The stitches are more annoying than anything.” My hand moved to the back of my head to feel the scratchy bandage. I shuddered to think about what was underneath it. He nodded and turned his attention back to his food. “Speaking of, you’ve got to change your dressing before you go to sleep tonight.” 

          My stomach twisted at the thought of the wound being touched. “Oh. Okay.” I muttered. “I can help ya if you want? It’d be hard to see.” He questioned. I didn’t want Joel to see the sweaty, shaky wreck I would become at the slightest amount of pain. I could handle cramps, broken ribs, possible broken nose, but anything to do with the skull and stitches skeeved me out more than anything. Anxiety started to build in my chest, and I could feel the anger defense mechanism gearing up. “Um… I appreciate all of the help, but I got this.” He nodded. We both finished our sandwiches and then I’d insisted he stay downstairs while I took the bandages and other supplies into the upstairs bathroom. 

           I stood in front of the mirror. Staring at the hair being pushed up from the bandage wrapped around my head. The dark circles pulling my eyes down. My chapped, dehydrated lips. I felt embarrassed that Joel was seeing me like this. I knew I shouldn’t care what he thinks. That he’s seen me in other bad states. But I couldn’t stifle the fact that I wanted him to think I was pretty. 

          I winced as I unraveled the bandage and pulled it off of my head. I laid the bloodsoaked fabric onto the counter and began to pull off the gauze. The sting of the wound being tampered with caused me to let out a small panicked shriek, and I let my hands fall to the edges of the sink. The gauze wasn’t even half-way off, and I brought my hand up to my mouth to stifle the whimpers as I worked through pulling it off the rest of the way. I grabbed the bottle of hydrogen peroxide from the infirmary and poured it onto an extra piece of gauze. After taking a deep breath in, I pressed it to the wound. The searing sensation hit me like a truck, and a loud “fuck” left my throat. 

          “You okay?” Joel called. I heard  him coming up the stairs and opened the bathroom door to reveal my teary eyed self. “No I’m not fucking okay.” I spat, “I can’t do one thing without injuring myself in some way. I don’t even know how I made it this far being this fucking dumb-“ my hysterical rant was halted at the feeling of his hand on my shoulder. “Hey, hey, wait a second. It’s okay.” He said gently as he took the cotton pad out of my hand, “Just let me help you.” His eyebrows knitted in pity as he gently spun me back towards the mirror. I caught my breath and watched him assess the wound on the back of my head. “You’re always helping me.” I mumbled, “Just wanted to do somethin’ for myself for once. You’re always helping me or saving me. Jesus. You only agreed to get me somewhere and now look at you.” I was mainly speaking to distract myself from the pain of the gauze being pressed gently against my head, but Joel was listening. “I agreed to get you somewhere safely.” He corrected me. “And you did. And we were supposed to go our separate ways. The plan wasn’t for you to turn into my personal nurse. God, you even almost got away from me but my stupid brother made me go to that community restoration and there I was again, just taking off my hard hat to wipe the sweat away and then pulling you back into my bullshit.” His face twisted in confusion, “What do you mean ‘almost got away?’” 

          I bit my lip, realizing that in distracting myself I’d also brought up the elephant in the room. “Y-you didn’t talk to me for weeks after that night after the bar. I thought I’d scared you off.” I said sheepishly. “Oh.” He said, his voice deepened. “Did I?” I asked as I made eye-contact with him through the mirror. He didn’t answer for a few moments as he focused on dressing the gash in my head. “It wasn’t you.” He finally spoke, “I scared myself.” I turned around and met his eyes. Our faces and bodies once again inches from each other. “How?” I asked. I watched his eyes as I questioned him. They were always telling the truth before he was, but this time he spoke before they could. “It got me thinkin’… about things I shouldn’t have been.” He said quietly. The rasp of his voice when he spoke in a low tone had me in a chokehold. “Like what?” I practically purred, unable to stop my eyes from flitting between his eyes and his lips. He cleared his throat, “Just things. Turn around, gotta bandage that back up.” His sudden pivot back to reality felt like a punch to the gut. How many more times was he going to avoid this conversation? I didn’t move, my eyes still boring into him like talons. I felt his hands grip my waist and he gently pushed my body to turn forwards. “I can never get anything out of you, Joel. Can you just this once explain yourself so I don’t have to keep guessing?” I pushed. “You know what? You want to know what I was thinking? I was thinking about how I could never be in a relationship again because the fear of losing yo- that person… makes me sick. I almost lost my life over my daughter, and I’d be a fool to think that I could ever make it through something like that again.” I stared at him through the mirror, unable to find the correct words to throw back at him. 

             My heart beat against my ribcage and all I could think about was the fact that he’d almost said “you” as in me. As in he’s scared of losing me. The man who had me convinced he hated me for the first few weeks of our journey. “Joel,” I stammered, “I never insinuated that we-“ He spoke over me, “But I did. I saw the full vision and the fact that I liked it made me almost throw up in the street.” By now he’d finished wrapping my head, and I turned around to face him again. “I felt the same way, Joel. Felt sick to my stomach. But it wasn’t about me ‘seeing the vision,’ it was the fear that I’d lost you. Officially scared you away.” I said quietly. “I don’t know if you could ever do that.” He ground out, his hand was subconsciously placed onto the base of my neck and the look of his glossy eyes were so soft it felt like they were holding me. “I’ve tried to dislike you- to push you away, trust me…” I chimed in, “Me too.” He continued, “but you make that a very hard thing to do.” The earnest look in his eyes and the softening of his voice brought a feverish red to my cheeks. The fluttering I felt in my chest was dizzying. I found myself leaning backwards onto the sink. I was waiting for him to break this moment up. To take a step back and say something dismissive or to just plain run away. But he didn’t. His strong hands held me steadily in front of him, and his eyes embraced my disheveled form. “Why don’t we stop doing that to each other then?” I asked softly. “I can try.” He answered, the side of his face turned up into a miniscule smile. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's note:

I'm so glad everyone is liking this series and sticking around despite it being the SLOWEST BURN EVER :') I can't thank y'all enough!!! A few housekeeping things: From now on, I will be posting a new chapter every Monday + comment to let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist <3

Taglist:

“Very funny,” he grumbled, expertly slaying more of the never-ending slew of creatures.

You were both seasoned warriors, but even you had to admit this recent outburst thanks to Ares was really starting to piss you off. If the God of War wished to go into battle, he could at least attempt to fight fair. You already had too many warriors wounded, and your numbers were dwindling.

Finally, after what felt like another twenty minutes of intense border protection and sweating way more than you’d like to admit keeping the bastards at bay, the shadows disappeared. Slumping against the wall that surrounded the fortress, you watched as Jackson used his sword as a walking stick.

He approached you slowly without a limp, but his muscles were no doubt as sore as yours felt. “Another night, another tally count of bullshit.”

You grinned. “I’m pretty sure I had ten more on you.”

“Nonsense. You didn’t see the six I took out with one spin.”

“Yeah, yeah. Probably didn’t happen,” you replied as he nudged you playfully, your muscles protesting with the effort it took to remain upright. Your expression turned morose. “How many did we lose?”

“Looks minimal tonight. Everyone is accounted for,” he answered, his dark gaze travelling the group traipsing back into the safety of the citadel. “A better night than last.”

You wondered just how long you’d have until one of you fell. Sure, both you and Jackson had sustained injuries over the years. It was impossible not to. Although your squadron had Asclepius’ healing powers to turn to and Apollo’s support with this campaign, neither of you were invincible. Ares, however, was a god.

“I wish I could smite him,” you stated as you passed by a statue of the God of War in question, tempted to kick it despite how exhausted you were. However, you didn’t wish to cross your fate out any faster than this war would. It felt like your life had already followed along something predestined and was hard enough to shake free from. For a moment, you felt the freefall of despair as you trudged towards your living quarters to bathe and collapse into your bed. With a look at Jackson’s grim expression, you spoke the only thing that you could think of. “Could you see us like this in five years?”

“What kind of nightmarish question is that?!” Jackson asked, giving you an incredulous stare. “I don’t want even five more weeks of this war. Five years?! No way will either of us survive such a battle.”

You sighed heavily. “I wasn’t meaning this war per se. When this one ends, there will still be something to fight, another dark power to destroy for the sake of others.”

“It’s our duty,” Jackson reminded quietly as he opened the door to the warriors’ den, the atrium filled with quiet, tired murmurs of the others heading towards the same destination you were. It was routine to travel back together, to clean off the battle and then rest until the sun was high in the sky.

Each day had a similarity to it that you were sick of.

“Sometimes, I wish for more than duty,” you said, not looking over at your friend. You had known each other for the entirety of your life. Orphaned and raised together to fight in the name of the Gods, you had no understanding of what it was like to be a civilian.

Still, you liked to dream about it as much as you could allow. And you would never admit to Jackson that he was a part of those dreams either.

That would be too much teasing fodder to hand over to the man.

Your next step came up short when Jackson suddenly moved in front of you. Eyes locked on yours, he searched them for an immeasurable moment before letting out a shaky little breath. He cupped your face softly, so brief that had you blinked, you would have missed it. If your cheeks weren’t warm from where his palms had been, you might have thought it was your imagination hoping for gentle caresses instead of the hard knocks your warrior life consisted of.

“I do with every breath also,” Jackson confessed reverently.

And then he was gone, leaving you to wonder if he too dreamed the same way you did.

_________________

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This is her kitchen; her mind tells her so. Her heart feels certain about it as well. But something is not quite right. Scully catches her reflection in the big mirror by the front door; she looks a little chubbier, a little older, and her hair is much longer. How very odd.

“Mommy!” A strawberry-blonde girl runs up to her, “Can Fox and I have some snacks?”

“Emily?” Scully can’t help but grasp. The child standing in front of her is, undoubtedly, Emily. She looks older and a lot taller; her hair is in a ponytail, but it is Emily standing right in front of her.

“Yeah, Mommy?”

Scully can’t help it. She bends down to hug the girl, who giggles as she hugs back. “Oh, Emily.”

“Mommy, are you okay?” The girl looks at her funny. “Fox and I want to have some Teddy Grahams. I’ll make sure he doesn’t eat too many.”

Fox? Scully frowns in confusion. Who?

“Emily, sweetie,” she realizes that she is still holding the child. “Where is Fox?”

The child looks at her with an eyebrow raise that’s so familiar to her own. “Fox and Millie and I are watching Toy Story in the living room. You and William were waiting for the fake turkey to be done. Then he went to the store with Mulder; I think they want those whipped cream from a can thingy.”

William? Fake turkey???

The child puts her hand on Scully’s forehead. “You don’t feel hot, Mommy, but if you want, you can go lie down.”

“No, sweetie, I’m fine. Why don’t we go into the living room?”

Scully walks with the child’s hand in hers. This has got to be a dream, she thinks as she squeezes the child’s plump hand and feels her hand being squeezed back. She then sees an Asian girl, a skinny boy, and a white terrier, all sitting on the couch, laughing at Buzz Lightyear’s reaction when Wood says Buzz, look! An alien!

The boy echoes with a grin that is so unmistakably Mulder’s: You’re mocking me, aren’t you. He says along with Buzz, entirely engrossed in the movie.

“Dana,” the girl on the couch looks up at her, “William just called to say that they’re on their way back, but he says that Uncle Mulder is feeling kinda funny.”

This must be Millie and that must be Fox. Scully cracks a smile at them.

The girl glances at Emily, who looks a tad concerned, and back up at Scully again. “Actually, Dana, you don’t look so well yourself. Are you coming down with something? Why don’t you go lie down? Will and I can finish cooking the rest like we did two years ago when you had Cricket.”

Cricket? Scully frowns again. Who are these children? Are they hers? Who’s the father?

Both girls have mentioned Mulder’s name, so she feels a little relieved knowing that he’s here too, but is this Mulder her Mulder?

Before Scully says anything, the sounds of a child crying come through the baby monitor, and she looks up at the stairs. There is a baby in the house?! If Mulder were here right now, he would call her out on her panic face for sure.

“She still cries when she wakes up from her nap alone, huh?” Millie stands up from the couch. “I’ll go.”

She pushed Scully downward onto the couch, next to the boy with the terrier in his lap. The boy quickly snuggles closer to her, rubbing the side of his head on the inside of her arm, and she gestures for Emily to sit closer to her. Scully studies the boy’s face, his brown hair and long eyelashes, his freckled cheeks and green eyes. This child is Mulder’s, she knows. Mulder’s child with her nose, she realizes as she feels tears coming on all of a sudden. She kisses the boy’s forehead and squeezes her arm around Emily’s shoulders; she desperately wants to place the girl on her lap, but Emily looks too old for that. Scully tries her best to steal glances at the children; she doesn’t want to think too much right now.

The front door opens, and suddenly, a small child is dropped into her lap. Another one? Scully isn’t quite sure how to react. This child has red hair and big blue eyes. She looks up and sees a much older Mulder grinning at her.

“Mulder!” She calls, a little afraid that he isn’t who he seems to be.

“Scully, honey, can I see you for a minute?” The older man says.

“Mum, I’ll grab Wiley.” A younger man picks up the child, and Scully sees Millie now has a toddler in her arm, followed by a brown, medium-sized mutt.

“We’ll be fine. You two go up and take as long as you need.” The young man ushers them toward the staircase. “Say see you later, Mommy and Daddy,” he coos at the child in his arm, and the toddler echoes in the crispiest voice, “Bye-bye!”

Scully feels very strange as she follows the man upstairs into their bedroom. In the middle of the bedroom, there is a huge four-poster bed with very fluffy-looking bedding on top. The older Mulder sits on the edge of the bed and reaches for her.

“Scully?” His voice is unsure. “Is it you?”

“Mulder?” She finds her voice quivers more than she likes. “Yeah, it’s me. It is you?”

“Do you know what year it is?” The man asks. “I’ll give you a hint, it’s not 1939, and we’re not on a boat.”

“I have no idea.” She answers honestly, smiling a little at his mention of 1939. “I don’t think 1999 is the right answer, though.”

“Thank God it’s you.” Mulder breathes as he holds tightly onto her. “I found myself driving with this kid, in a minivan! I almost crashed it. He said his name is William and that he’s our son. I had to pull over and he told me the weirdest story.”

Scully moves to sit on the bed, and Mulder puts his arms around her once again.

“Emily is here.” She hears herself saying. “There’s another boy; I think his name is—”

“Fox Jr.” Mulder cringes, “whom William claims that he rescued from 2007. Little Fox is…William as a child. And we have two more kids; there’s Wiley and Kuiper.”

“We have five children? Kuiper?” Scully feels like the whole thing is ridiculous. Even when she thought she could have children, she had always wanted just two. How did they get five?

“Millie, the Taiwanese girl, she’s William’s friend and has been staying with us too.” Mulder stares into her eyes. “So basically there are eight of us living in this house, plus three dogs.”

“Why would we name a child William and another one Wiley?” Even though Scully knows that Mulder won’t have the answer, she cannot help but ask anyway.

“Why would we have a child named Fox Jr.? What kind of a nickname is Cricket?” He asks with matching curiosity.

“How did we have time to ourselves to make more when we have so many of them living with us already?” Scully asks while lifting up her shirt, exposing her bare stomach.

“Probably by you doing that.” Mulder smirks as he leans in to kiss her, so suddenly that she falls backwards with him on top.

“Mulder,” she laughs while pushing him away, not using nearly enough strength to be effective. “I want to see my stomach.”

He gives her some space while looking at her milky skin. He notices the scar on her upper stomach, how it’s faded and looks so different from his memory.

“Look at my stretch marks, Mulder.” Scully whispers in awe. She never knows that seeing stretch marks on herself will bring tears to her eyes. And his, too.

Mulder bends down to kiss those marks, slowly and reverently. His tears roll off, and they tickle. She tugs him upward, and he moves up reluctantly.

“You’re the mother of my children, Scully.” He murmurs as if it was a wish. Maybe it is a wish he’s never told her. “Think we’ll be able to make another one?” He leers, half-jokingly.

Scully laughs at the absurdity of his suggestion; she isn’t sure being serious will do them any good right now anyways.

“We have six mouths to feed, Papa. Let’s get a move on.”

He groans his complaint.

They return to the living room to see the empty couch with a show on TV neither of them has ever seen before. Mulder looks at the giant remote control on the coffee table and winces. “If I break it, do you think the kids will ever speak to me again?”

Scully smacks his arm, appreciating how fine and sexy Mulder still looks even when he’s aged significantly.

They both turn toward the kitchen and see a scene neither of them has ever seen before. Fox Jr. is standing by the stove on a little step stool, stirring something in a saucepan. A Dalmatian-mix pup is standing next to the stool. Fox seems to be a quiet child, Scully thinks. Rescued from 2007? She still can’t figure out what that means.

Emily is slicing bananas on a cutting board and William is removing dinner rolls from a baking sheet. Emily seems to be the most well-adjusted one out of all of them. Why? Scully feels her eyes well up with tears again. They’re all my children. She reminds herself immediately. Millie, who’s holding the baby, stands next to Emily, and the two girls laugh at something William just said. There is one more, the one that looks like Charlie, Scully scans around the kitchen and spots the red-headed boy. Wiley is bringing a carton of orange juice to the dining table, looking quite proud of himself at the task.

“Mines and yours, Honeybunch.” Mulder kisses her hairline affectionately as he whispers. “I wonder where we are.”

I wonder where our counterparts are. Scully does not say what’s on her mind.

At dinner time, they feast. Scully is surprised to find that they’re vegetarians. Besides the fake turkey that tastes good but not like turkey at all, there is also a shepherd’s pie with chickpeas and sweet potato, stuffed mushrooms, spinach puffs, cream cheese Rangoon, sweet and sour cauliflower, besides the traditional fare of mashed potatoes and mushroom gravy, two green bean casseroles, cornbread dressing with chestnuts, and a big dish of baked macaroni and cheese. Scully also tries some BBQ jackfruit, which she’s never tasted before, and watches in glee each time Mulder gets another serving of something called frog eye salad and William grins brilliantly.

Emily tosses small pieces of dinner roll to the brown mutt, and no one bats an eye; the dog keeps on wanting to give her his paw, and everyone laughs. William makes googly eyes at Millie throughout dinner. Scully takes turns wiping gravy and BBQ sauce off the younger boys’ faces with her napkin. Mulder becomes a doting idiot with the baby in the highchair, making UFO noises as he feeds her spoonfuls of shepherd’s pie, and all the kids crack up at the sounds.

“I can’t believe we ate all that.” Scully comments to Mulder while watching the kids get up to clear the table and do the dishes.

“Wonder how many jobs I have to keep them all fed?” Mulder laughs when he spots the three pies that are now sitting on the dining table.

William looks like he wants to say something about it, but changes his mind quickly. Instead, he said, “Let’s have pies after the Charlie Brown Special.”

Scully glances at the clock. “When is it on?”

William opens his mouth, but his lips are quickly pressed into a thin line. “We can stream it right now.”

Stream it? Scully looks at Mulder, who returns with an equally puzzled expression. The two of them feel a little awkward and hope that their children will not think they’re acting strange. Where does she usually sit? She eyes the big couch and sees that Emily, Millie, and Wiley are sitting on one couch; Fox and Kuiper are pressed up together with the two pups.

William is patting the terrier in his arms. He mutters softly to them, “You guys usually take the armchairs.”

A mischievous glint shines in his eyes. “Chill, we’re all used to seeing our parents being lovey-dovey.”

Scully realizes with amusement that Mulder actually looks embarrassed.

They all laugh when Wiley says his cooking skill is better than cold cereal and maybe toast, and merriment fills the living room when little Fox blurs out I want some toast as snoopy, Charlie Brown and Linus butter up the toast on TV.

“Well, we got pie.” Millie says, and William gets up to go to the dining room.

“Coffee, Mum?” The teenager’s voice comes from the kitchen, and Scully looks around the living room again; she smiles when she sees herself in the reflection of Mulder’s loving eyes.

“Yes, please.”

XXXXXXXXXXX

She woke up, and immediately looked around. Mulder was not next to her in the bed, and it’s 2:10am. She decided to put on her robe and go see what he’s up to.

The dream she had bothered her. It was very odd; even though it was not a nightmare, she felt unsettled. She needed to be in Mulder’s arms now.

He was sitting on her couch wearing his pajama bottoms and nothing else. When he saw her, he extended an arm towards her with a sleepy smile.

“Scully,” he cooed.

Scully went to snuggle up next to him, and he molded his body around hers.

“Can’t sleep?” They both asked at the same time.

They looked at one another and smiled again. No wonder people think they are spooky, she thought.

“I had a very peculiar dream.” She said.

He was quiet for longer than usual. “Me too.”

They both waited for a few seconds to pass. “Mine was about Thanksgiving,” she muttered.

“Mine too,” he added, “and a lot of kids. It didn’t make a lot of sense.”