#Adoption

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 3/34 - soft blue sweater

[Read on AO3]

That weekend, it is with giddy excitement that Mulder and Scully spend the day at her apartment up to their eyeballs in paperwork, brochures, and Chinese food.

“Next question: where would we live? Together or separate?”

“Together,” she answers, before thinking she should probably soften that affirmative answer with an indifferent, “if that works for you.”

“It more than works for me,” he says with certainty. “I can ask Frohike for the number of the real estate agent who hooked him up with the lair. Or we could live here, either way.”

This is crazy. They’re moving so fast. What they’re thinking of doing doesn’t even make sense. Everyone will think they’ve well and truly lost their minds, and maybe they have!

“This is giving me a headache,” she admits, feeling suddenly overwhelmed.

“I’ll flag that as one to revisit later,” he says, jotting something down in a notebook. “This communicating thing is a lot of work, huh, Scully? No wonder we don’t do it more often.” He grins at her, more freely than he has in a long time.

She rubs a hand over her tired eyes. “No, it’s good. It’s good. I’m glad we’re doing this, Mulder.”

“Me too.”

He just looks so happy, she can’t help but smile back at him. The knot of uncertainty she’s been harboring as a result of her overthinking dissolves instantly in the radiance of his boyish enthusiasm. He’s all soft edges today, for once out of his G-man uniform. Instead, he wears that soft knit blue sweater she likes so much, and jeans that hug him in all the right places.

His socked feet rest on her coffee table while he flips through various documents, assembling them into binders with an attention to detail that she’s only ever seen him apply to their files. She’s mesmerized.

This might be her life. If they go through with this… He just said he’d live with her. Weekends spent together flash before her eyes, not having to say goodbye after one of their movie nights, just ‘goodnight.’ Takeout containers morph into home-cooked dinners at the table in her kitchen. Him making coffee in the morning. Driving to and from work together…

As much as the thought appeals to her, there’s one tiny detail missing that could put an end to this entire operation before it even begins.

“Mulder?” she asks, inadvertently cutting off whatever rambling he’s been doing while she wasn’t paying attention.

He glances up at her, pushing his glasses back up his nose to keep them from sliding off. The sight almost makes her forget what she was going to ask, as important as it was, but in this case, her concern far outweighs anything else.

“Do you think they’ll buy the co-parenting thing? I mean, I’m not really seeing a precedent for it in any of the literature I’ve looked at. Would they even accept our application?”

He’s quiet for a second. That second stretches into two.

“I’ve been thinking about that.”

She swears the entire block goes silent, not even the sound of a car on the street outside or the hum of heat pumping through her apartment. It makes his words feel heavy. Meaningful. Like she’s just dipped into unfamiliar and dangerous territory without knowing it.

“And...?”

He rubs the back of his neck, obviously struggling to verbalize whatever is going on in that beautiful mind of his.

And then he just outright says it.

“We could get married.”

Her eyes go wide. 

Married.  

“Mulder…”

He puts his hands up, halting her speech. “No, I’m serious. You just said we’d be living together. What’s the difference if we also happen to have a piece of paper that makes it official?” 

There’s that look in his eye, the one he gets when he sits her down for one of his slide presentations. Never could she have imagined he’d have the same look when trying to convince her of marriage. It’s overwhelming.

“Unless,” he pauses, “you think you might meet someone sometime in the future, which is a completely valid concern…”

She has to stop him there. “That’s not it at all. I just– What if this doesn’t work out and we don’t get a baby? You’d be stuck with me and have nothing to show for it.” 

Don’t put all your eggs in one basket, the saying goes. If this fails, she could lose… everything. Is that a risk worth taking? Would he grow to resent her? Would they have to jump through legal hoops to undo all of this if things don’t go their way?

“And you could meet someone too,” she reminds him, “someone that could give you a real family. What then?”

He ducks his head, shaking it in a poor attempt to hide a wry smile. “What’s a real family, anyway?” he counters with a shrug, then grabs her hand. “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be stuck with than you, Scully.”

Her eyes find his, searching them for something to clue her in to his thought process. Is he serious? Has he lost his mind? She finds nothing but bare honesty in his emerald depths. Bare honesty, and that hope she’s been seeing there since this whole idea came up. It’s a different look for him, but oh how she loves it. She wants to do everything in her power to keep it there.

“Would you believe me if I told you I’ve thought of asking you before?” he asks.

Her brows furrow, and though part of her wants to bolt, to declare this whole evening an error in judgment, she stays, looking at him warily. His thumb runs over her knuckles, soothing, as if he had known her inclination was to flee from this conversation. Stay , his touch says. Stay with me.

She shakes her head, lips quivering in an almost-smile, and says what he always loves to hear her say. “You’re crazy.”

“No, I’m not!” he counters, equally amused and defensive. “When you had cancer, and I had to fight tooth and nail to get to see you in the hospital…”

She swallows at the memory of waking to find him collapsed by the side of her bed, his hand clasping hers like a lifeline.

“Really?”

“Really,” he answers, his smile softening into fondness. “Though I’m pretty sure Bill would have killed me.”

That brings out a laugh, which Scully shyly hides behind her hand as she wipes it across her nose. When had she started tearing up?

“We’ll buy you a helmet and some shoulder pads, then,” she concedes teasingly.

His mouth quirks up in a smile, knowing precisely what is implied by that response.

“Is that a yes?”

She pauses for a moment, eyes locking with his. Is it? Is she about to agree to marry her best friend?

It should be more of a question, but it isn’t. For some reason, this feels like the most logical thing to do.

She nods.

He shifts on the couch, suppressing a smile and squeezing her hand before letting go. “Well alright then…” he says, crossing his arms in front of him for lack of anything better to do with them. “We can go to the courthouse whenever you’re ready. Or, if you want an actual wedding—”

“No,” she says, a little too quickly. “No, the courthouse will be fine.”

“As long as your mom doesn’t pool her money with Bill to order a hit on me,” he jokes.

“She wouldn’t do that,” she says, rolling her eyes. He does bring up an interesting point though, one that fills her with trepidation. “God, we’ll have to tell her, won’t we? And your mom. And Skinner .”

The dread increases with each name listed.

“We’ll figure that out as we go,” he assures her, placing a calming hand on her knee. “For now, this is just between us. Until you decide otherwise.”

“Just between us,” she agrees, letting his words melt her worries away.

 -.-.-

He had lingered for a while in her doorway when the time came for him to go back to his apartment. It was awkward, but not in a way that might cause alarm in light of what they’d just agreed to do. 

No, as crazy as it might sound, this was one decision neither of them could imagine regretting. The gravity of the situation, though, was what led to the uncharacteristic silence and shyness as she bade him farewell with an impulsive, last-minute hug. He had smiled, and walked backwards out the door, maintaining eye contact until she slowly shut the door between them.

She lies awake in her bed hours later, unable to sleep.

This morning, she was a perpetually single federal agent with a pipe dream of being a mother. Now, she’s engaged to her partner, and there’s partially filled out adoption paperwork with both his and her names on them burning a hole through her top desk drawer.

The Dana from seven years ago would tell her she’s lost her mind.

But then, that Dana also wouldn’t know how important her crackpot new partner would end up being in her life. Skeptical as she was, she’d hardly believe it anyway.

Engaged . She’s always thought about this day, how it would feel to have a man ask for her hand in marriage. She can say without a doubt that this is not how she expected it to go, but the disappointment one might expect in her situation is absent. They may not be going about this in the traditional way, but it is nothing less than what she’d expect with Mulder. 

He had long since rewritten her thoughts on what a normal life was supposed to look like. Her eyes had been opened, the possibilities now seemingly endless instead of linear and predictable. Despite the heartache she has endured over the years, it’s worth it to live with a more complete view of the world. Sometimes, it feels like she and Mulder are the only ones who can see it.

Sighing, she rolls over, her gaze settling on her nightstand.

She shouldn’t. He could be sleeping.

All the same, the corded device beckons her. It’s a temptation she’s familiar with, although tonight it is particularly strong and irresistible.

Don’t, Dana. It’s not real. He’s not really your– Give him space.

She picks up the phone anyway.

Before she can even change her mind, she hears the line connect, and she greets him in the way he’s come to expect.

“Mulder, it’s me.”

She can almost hear him smile on the other end of the call, and all thoughts of this being a bad idea fly from her mind. 

“Well if it isn’t the soon-to-be Mrs. Spooky Mulder,” he says jovially, sounding much too awake for her to have interrupted his sleep.

She rolls her eyes, but can’t help the flutter in her chest at his words. At the timbre of his voice, lazy and drawn out at this late hour. He can be endearing when he wants to be. A real sap at times.

“Hey, Scully. We’re engaged.”

“I know,” she speaks into the phone, curling in toward it and holding it with both hands up against her ear. Her pillow welcomes her into its embrace, and she sinks into it, grinning into the covers.

“We’re gonna give poor Skinner a heart attack,” he says with a laugh.

Their poor boss. He must have had no idea what he was getting into when he was assigned to oversee the X-Files. 

“He’ll get over it,” she says dismissively.

She hears Mulder chuckle a little, the breathy sound tickling her ear. She can tell he’s tipping back in his rickety desk chair in his apartment by the rhythmic creak that sounds, and she pictures him with his feet up on the desk, maybe spinning his basketball around idly in his hands.

“I don’t know, this might break his heart, Scully,” he teases.

Scully rolls her eyes. “Oh, would you stop that? He does not have a thing for me.”

“He absolutely does, and so does every guy in the building.”

She almost asks, ‘Every guy?’ but thankfully catches herself before uttering those words. Sometimes she wonders, but then everything with Diana had shaken what she thought she knew about him. They are still working on getting back to where they were before. It’s far too fresh for her to make any suppositions about where they stand now.

They fall into a brief silence, each waiting for the other to speak first.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” he finally asks, when it becomes clear she won’t tell him why she called unless prompted.

She sighs. “I can’t sleep.”

He hums softly in amusement, the sound rattling over the phone. “I don’t know if I’m really the expert you want to be talking to on that particular subject, Scully. Just what exactly do you want me to do about it?” he teases.

“Just talk to me,” she says softly, as if speaking quietly will somehow lessen the embarrassment she feels.

“Ah, so you want me to bore you to sleep. Got it,” he says, taking it in stride. “Which cryptid would you like to hear about tonight, Miss Scully?”

She closes her eyes, her lips tightening into a tired smile. “No monsters, Mulder. You know I find those way too fascinating.”

“Ha ha, Scully,” he says, laughing at her obvious joke. “Okay. How about this? There was this kid at my school growing up. Mark. One of twelve siblings in the same family.”

“Twelve?” she asks incredulously.

“Mm-hmm. All of them adopted.”

Her smile widens, and she burrows further into her pillow, tucking her comforter over her shoulders. She loves these little glimpses she gets into his old life, rare as they are. She doesn’t have to ask why he chose to tell her this one tonight of all nights. His motives are as clear as can be.

“They’d go to Disneyland every summer, all twelve of them plus their parents,” he continues. “Sam and I were so jealous. One of the girls was in the same grade as her, so we all hung out a lot. Well, not all of us. With that many siblings, there were bound to be some you just didn’t get along with. We had fun, though.”

“How’d they afford Disneyland with twelve children?” she asks sleepily.

“It was Martha’s Vineyard, Scully,” he answers simply. “They were filthy rich.”

She hums, feeling herself begin to relax at the soothing monotone of his voice. The line falls silent, but she knows he’s still there. She can hear the gentle sound of his breathing. She allows it to lull her into a state of restfulness.

“After Sam disappeared, it didn’t seem fair. He had so many siblings, while I lost the only one I’d ever have. I stayed away from him for a while after that. He was one of the only people at school that didn’t treat me like some criminal or freak after she was abducted, but I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing him or his little sister anymore. It was too big a reminder of what I was missing.”

Scully’s heart aches as she listens. This bedtime story doesn’t have a happy ending, she knows. Though her eyes are closed, she feels a tear leak onto her pillow, hurting for the lonely little boy her partner had once been. She wishes, like she has so many times before, that she could have been there for him then like she is now.

His voice returns, crackling over the line. “Eventually I started going over there again,” he continues, “before they moved away. They were kind to me. Treated me like one of their own. It didn’t make up for Sam being gone, of course, but at least I wasn’t completely alone. And it taught me an important lesson, one I think I’m only just beginning to understand.”

“What’s that, Mulder?” Scully slurs, barely keeping awake but wanting to know the answer—this epiphany he’s had. She has to know how he can tell this story without breaking down into tears as she would if it were her own.

“You can choose your family,” he answers finally, as if it were the obvious conclusion to this story. “They might not have been connected by blood, but Mark’s family was connected by something stronger. Love .”  

He breathes, perhaps lost in the memory of his childhood friend. Perhaps he’s contemplating the great mysteries and joys of the universe. Either could be possible for this deeply philosophical man.

“It seemed to work out pretty good for them.”

Scully’s heart blooms with emotion, her eyes filling with tears.

“It’s time I choose my family, Scully,” he says softly, his voice lowering to just above a whisper. “I hope one day I’ll find out what happened to my sister. I– I still need to have some closure, I think. But it feels good to hope for something else too, for a change. Something more than piecing together a family that was never together in the first place. So, thank you. You’re the one who showed me it was possible. I think I owe you more than everything, at this point.”

She smiles softly into her pillow, reminded of the feel of his breath on her lips that day in his hallway. It’s a thought she has come back to innumerable times since it happened, and though there have been some shake ups since then, it still brings her comfort.

She allows the memory to wash over her, covering her with a blanket of warmth and security.

And finally, she succumbs to the pull of sleep. 

-.-.-

It’s quiet. He listens, recognizing the subtle change in her breathing, and he knows she’s fallen asleep. He could hang up, call it a night, but he selfishly isn’t ready to.

There’s still one more thing he wants to say.

“I choose you, Scully,” he whispers into the phone, too cowardly to say it when she might hear him. “You’re my family. And I can’t wait to see how it grows from here.”

~~~

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[catsofcalifornia]

May Flowers from Today Tomorrow Forever Animal Rescue in Escondido, California

Click here for more information about adoption and other ways to help!

Click here for a link to Today Tomorrow Forever Animal Rescue's main website.

Miss May Flowers was born approximately 2/17/2024.

She is a sweet little female blue tabby. May is all purrs and cuddles. She loves napping in foster mom's lap. She's playful and loving and will make a great addition to any family.

Miss May Flowers is up to date on her shots and is spayed.

[jodielandons]

Remember The Blind Side starring Sandra Bullock? The movie showed how a kid who had an extremely rough upbringing got help from the family of a school friend, found success in football and ultimately ended up being adopted by the family. Turns out he was never adopted.

Michael Oher says that he was tricked by the Tuohy family into signing documents that made them his conservators. Since he was already 18 at the time the family told him, “that it means pretty much the exact same thing as 'adoptive parents,' but that the laws were just written in a way that took [his] age into account.”

Oher also says that papers were signed so that his story and likeness were given away for free to use in The Blind Side. He also never got a single royalty check for the hugely successful, Oscar nominated film in the 14 years since its release.

[prokopetz]

I feel like the legal institution of adoption is unreasonably limited by restricting it to parent-child relationships. If me and some random asshole want to legally be second cousins, I think we should just be able to do that.

[somecutething]

Owner was worried the recently adopted cat wouldn't get along with his dog.

(via zachp0wer)

[frownyalfred]

Media and busybodies wanting to know if the batkids are Bruce’s biological kids keep asking “Is he yours?” to which Bruce replies, in true Alfred Pennyworth fashion, “Of course he is, I’m paying for him.”

[writingwithcolor]

Sri Lankan Fairies and Senegalese Goddesses: Mixing Mythology as a Mixed Creator

[Note: this archive ask was submitted before the Masterpost rules took effect in 2023. The ask has been abridged for clarity.]

@reydjarinkenobi asked:

Hi, I’m half Sri Lankan/half white Australian, second gen immigrant though my mum moved when she was a kid. My main character for my story is a mixed demigod/fae. [...] Her bio mum is essentially a Scottish/Sri Lankan fairy and her other bio mum (goddess) is a goddess of my own creation, Nettamaar, who’s name is derived from [...] Wolof words [...]. The community of mages that she presided over is from the South Eastern region of Senegal [...] In the beginning years of European imperialism, the goddess basically protected them through magic and by blessing a set of triplets effectively cutting them off from the outside world for a few centuries [...] I was unable to find a goddess that fit the story I wanted to tell [...] and also couldn’t find much information on the internet for local gods, which is why I have created my own. I know that the gods in Hinduism do sort of fit into [the story] but my Sri Lankan side is Christian and I don’t feel comfortable representing the Hindu gods in the way that I will be this goddess [...]. I wanted to know if any aspect of the community’s history is problematic as well as if I should continue looking further to try and find an African deity that matched my narrative needs? I was also worried that having a mixed main character who’s specifically half black would present problems as I can’t truly understand the black experience. I plan on getting mixed and black sensitivity readers once I finish my drafts [...] I do take jabs at white supremacy and imperialism and I I am planning to reflect my feelings of growing up not immersed in your own culture and feeling overwhelmed with what you don’t know when you get older [...]. I’m sorry for the long ask but I don’t really have anyone to talk to about writing and I’m quite worried about my story coming across as insensitive or problematic because of cultural history that I am not educated enough in.

Reconciliation Requires Research

First off: how close is this world’s history to our own, omitting the magic? If you’re aiming for it to be essentially parallel, I would keep in mind that Senegal was affected by the spread of Islam before the Europeans arrived, and most people there are Muslim, albeit with Wolof and other influences. 

About your Scottish/Sri Lankan fairy character: I’ll point you to this previous post on Magical humanoid worldbuilding, Desi fairies as well as this previous post on Characterization for South Asian-coded characters for some of our commentary on South Asian ‘fae’. Since she is also Scottish, the concept can tie back to the Celtic ideas of the fae.

However, reconciliation of both sides of her background can be tricky. Do you plan on including specific Sri Lankan mythos into her heritage? I would tread carefully with it, if you plan to do so. Not every polytheistic culture will have similar analogues that you can pull from.

To put it plainly, if you’re worried about not knowing enough of the cultural histories, seek out people who have those backgrounds and talk to them about it. Do your research thoroughly: find resources that come from those cultures and read carefully about the mythos that you plan to incorporate. Look for specificity when you reach out to sensitivity readers and try to find sources that go beyond a surface-level analysis of the cultures you’re looking to portray. 

~ Abhaya

I see you are drawing on Gaelic lore for your storytelling. Abhaya has given you good links to discussions we’ve had at WWC and the potential blindspots in assuming, relative to monotheistic religions like Christianity, that all polytheistic and pluralistic lore is similar to Gaelic folklore. Fae are one kind of folklore. There are many others. Consider:

Is it compatible? Are Fae compatible with the Senegalese folklore you are utilizing? 

Is it specific? What ethnic/religious groups in Senegal are you drawing from? 

Is it suitable? Are there more appropriate cultures for the type of lore you wish to create?

Remember, Senegalese is a national designation, not an ethnic one, and certainly not a designation that will inform you with respect to religious traditions. But more importantly:

...Research Requires Reconciliation

My question is why choose Senegal when your own heritage offers so much room for exploration? This isn’t to say I believe a half Sri-Lankan person shouldn’t utilize Senegalese folklore in their coding or vice-versa, but, to put it bluntly, you don’t seem very comfortable with your heritage. Religions can change, but not everything cultural changes when this happens. I think your relationship with your mother’s side’s culture offers valuable insight to how to tackle the above, and I’ll explain why.  

I myself am biracial and bicultural, and I had to know a lot about my own background before I was confident using other cultures in my writing. I had to understand my own identity—what elements from my background I wished to prioritize and what I wished to jettison. Only then was I able to think about how my work would resonate with a person from the relevant background, what to be mindful of, and where my blindspots would interfere. 

I echo Abhaya’s recommendation for much, much more research, but also include my own personal recommendation for greater self-exploration. I strongly believe the better one knows oneself, the better they can create. It is presumptuous for me to assume, but your ask’s phrasing, the outlined plot and its themes all convey a lack of confidence in your mixed identity that may interfere with confidence when researching and world-building. I’m not saying give up on this story, but if anxiety on respectful representation is a large barrier for you at the moment, this story may be a good candidate for a personal project to keep to yourself until you feel more ready.

(See similar asker concerns here: Running Commentary: What is “ok to do” in Mixed-Culture Supernatural Fiction, here: Representing Biracial Black South American Experiences and here: Am I fetishizing my Japanese character?)

- Marika.

Start More Freely with Easy Mode

Question: Why not make a complete high-fantasy universe, with no need of establishing clear real-world parallels in the text? It gives you plenty of leg room to incorporate pluralistic, multicultural mythos + folklore into the same story without excessive sweating about historically accurate worldbuilding.

It's not a *foolproof* method; even subtly coded multicultural fantasy societies like Avatar or the Grishaverse exhibit certain harmful tropes. I also don't know if you are aiming for low vs high fantasy, or the degree of your reliance on real world culture / religion / identity cues.

But don't you think it's far easier for this fantasy project to not have the additional burden of historical accuracy in the worldbuilding? Not only because I agree with Mod Marika that perhaps you seem hesitant about the identity aspect, but because your WIP idea can include themes of othering and cultural belonging (and yes, even jabs at supremacist institutions) in an original fantasy universe too. I don't think I would mind if I saw a couple of cultural markers of a Mughal Era India-inspired society without getting a full rundown of their agricultural practices, social conventions and tax systems, lol.

Mod Abhaya has provided a few good resources about what *not* to do when drawing heavily from cultural coding. With that at hand, I don't think your project should be a problem if you simply make it an alternate universe like Etheria (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power), Inys (The Priory of the Orange Tree) or Earthsea (the Earthsea series, Ursula K. Le Guin). Mind you, we can trace the analogues to each universe, but there is a lot of freedom to maneuver as you wish when incorporating identities in original fantasy. And of course, multiple sensitivity readers are a must! Wishing you the best for the project.

- Mod Mimi

[angelsaxis]

[incognitopolls]

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[kolaepup]

Fluffy Moth Adopt!!

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[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 2/34 - decaf coffee

[Read on AO3]

In the next week, the topic of adoption doesn’t come up again, and she tries to put it out of her mind as much as possible. They wrap up their case, spending several dull hours working on their reports, and wait impatiently for something else to come across their desk, ideally something a little more intellectually stimulating than the last few duds they’ve worked.

The good thing about not having any cases, though, is that no one blinks twice when they take a long lunch here, or leave work a few minutes early at the end of the day there. A spontaneous mid-morning coffee break at their favorite cafe down the street gets them out of the building, enjoying a rare warm day in December.

On the way to the coffee shop, they walk side by side—as always—until Scully stops suddenly in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Oh, Mulder. Look,” she says sadly.

He follows her gaze to the other side of the street, where a little boy no older than four stands with frightened eyes, looking back and forth helplessly while busy businessmen and women in suits pass by without sparing him a glance.

Mulder checks for cars quickly before jogging across the street, giving Scully little warning before taking off. She follows behind, carefully dodging traffic as it approaches.

“Hey, buddy, you lost?” Mulder asks, approaching the boy and kneeling down to his height.

The boy nods, red-faced and eyes brimming with tears.

“That’s okay, we’ll help you get this figured out,” he says consolingly. “Are you here with your mom?”

“Uh huh,” the little boy answers shakily.

Mulder gives him a comforting pat on the shoulder, offering him a reassuring smile. “Alright, well let’s find her, yeah?”

“Okay.”

“I’m Fox and this is Dana,” he says, nodding up at her. “We work for the FBI, do you know what that is?”

He shakes his head. “No.”

“Well, we’re kind of like cops.”

He sniffles.

“What’s your name, bud?”

“William.”

The world slows to a halt, and Scully’s eyes widen.

It’s a common name. So common, in fact, that she can name at least six Williams, Wills, or Bills off the top of her head without hesitating. But that’s exactly the problem.

It’s a family name. Both her family, and Mulder’s.

Fox William Mulder.

“William? Hey, that’s my middle name!”

She won’t think about it. She won’t think about the way that she wanted to use that name, if they were lucky enough to succeed at in vitro fertilization. She won’t think of that little boy she pictured, or the man she hoped would stay and be his father.

“Really?” William asks, eyes lighting up for the first time.

Mulder smiles. “Yeah, better than Fox, right?”

She hears a giggle, and remembers Emily. Mulder got her to laugh, too, even under the most harrowing circumstances. She shakes her head, focusing on the situation at hand. She won’t be of any help if she can’t get her head out of the clouds.

Mulder asks, “You know what your mommy’s name is?”

“Um—Susan,” William answers.

“That’s great. Good job, buddy, that helps. Where did you last see her?”

“We goed to get me shoes for playing soccer,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Soccer, huh? I’m partial to baseball myself—”

“Mulder—” Scully stops him, tapping him on the shoulder. When he looks at her, she points to the other side of the road, and he nods his thanks.

“Hey, look, there’s a shoe store across the street,” he says triumphantly, refocusing in on William. “I bet you she’s right over there looking for you!”

He stands, reaching out his hand for William to hold, and they cross the street together with Scully following closely behind. She watches them, and thinks that if she were a passerby, she might think they were father and son, out for a midday stroll.

It’s a side of Mulder she doesn’t often get to see. A side she suspected lay dormant for a long time after Samantha disappeared, but it’s still there, popping up here and there when it is needed.

“Hey, Scully, can you go in and check if there’s a Susan in there?” Mulder asks, looking to her for assistance. “I want to stay out here in case she comes by looking for him.”

She nods, clearing her head once again of the swirling thoughts that had occupied her. “Yeah, of course.”

She goes in and comes back out just as quickly, shaking her head despondently.

“The clerk said she and her son left about 10 minutes ago,” she reports.

“Did he say which way they went?”

“To the right.”

Mulder glances in that direction and nods. “10 minutes, well she couldn’t have gotten far. We found him just over there,” he says optimistically. “William, keep an eye out for if you see her.”

“Okay,” he agrees.

They head to the right, Mulder now carrying William on his shoulders up above the crowds. They pass a few stores, finding no luck so far, but then are startled when some pedestrians up in front of them nearly get bowled over by the sudden opening of a shop door. A frantic woman exits, then darts off, apologizing as she goes. 

Mulder starts jogging, knowing that it must be the mother. He dodges other people walking, skirting between them expertly, which leaves Scully behind by a fair few paces. Luckily, she’s used to it. The woman is poised to enter the next shop when he calls out, “Susan?”

She turns.

“I think this little one belongs to you.”

An instant wave of relief washes over the woman’s face, and she runs to reach them. “William!” she gasps.

The boy all but leaps into her arms, curling in close while she strokes the back of his head, comforting them both.

“Where did you find him?” she asks through tears, holding tight to her wayward son.

“Just across the street,” Mulder says with a smile, pointing to where they came from.

Susan sighs in muted frustration. “There’s an ice cream shop over there, I should have known.”

“My sister did the same thing when I was about 9. Gave us all a heart attack,” Mulder chuckles.

The casual mention of his sister causes Scully to look at him in shock, but he’s too preoccupied to notice.

“I can’t thank you enough. I turned my back for one second.”

“No problem, just glad he’s back where he belongs,” Mulder responds.

After waving goodbye to William, he turns around, a content smile on his face. He starts in the direction of the coffee shop, as if the events of the last few minutes had never happened. Expecting Scully to follow, he walks right past her, but she stands frozen in place.

It’s insane. It’s impulsive. She’s going to do it anyway.

“Okay.”

He pauses and glances back at the statue that is Dana Scully. Amusement plays at his lips, though there’s more than a little confusion there too.

“Huh?”

“Okay.”

He laughs, backtracking a few steps so he is closer to her.

“You’re gonna have to say more words, Scully, I don’t know what you’re—”

“I want to adopt a baby.”

His eyes widen, and he looks to his right and left as if someone might overhear their personal conversation and go tell on them to their supervisors.

“You’re bringing this up now?” he asks, a little incredulously.

“Yeah.”

“And– and you’ve thought this through? You’re sure?”

No, not really. To be honest, she’d barely thought through this at all. There are so many reasons why they shouldn’t, why this is a terrible idea. They’re not ordinary people. They have enemies who could use this against them, careers that have proven to be life threatening on multiple occasions.

And yet…

“Mulder, seeing you with that boy…” she says, her eyes trailing off in the direction the mother and son had disappeared. “Yes, I’m sure. Only if the offer still stands, I won’t hold it against you if you’ve changed your—”

He stops her. “No! No, I’m in. Let’s do it. Let’s– We should talk about this.” He grabs her elbow and starts toward the coffee shop with her in tow, and the pace of his step forces her to walk faster to keep up. “Buy you a cup of coffee? Breakfast sandwich?” he asks, scrambling for something to say.

“I feel like I’m gonna throw up.”

“Just the coffee then.”

The bell jingles as they enter. They sit down at a booth and Mulder leans in, his voice low and placating.

“Okay, no need to panic. We’re just talking about it, yeah? Breathe.”

She huffs out a laugh. “How are you so calm about this?”

He smirks. “I’ve been reading about this stuff for months. You only found my stash of brochures last week.”

“Months?” she breathes, voice laced with disbelief. Her head feels like it’s spinning. “It’s just a little… overwhelming, I suppose,” she says.

“I have that effect on people,” he jokes. “It’s not a rush. If we do this, it will take time, we just have to decide if it’s something we want to pursue. There’s an application process, and getting approved, not to mention finding the right placement...”

Scully feels out of her depth. He knows a lot more about this than she does. She almost wants to ask if he has a slide show prepared.

“I want to do it. I do,” she assures him, carefully choosing her words, “I just don’t know where to begin. It sounds like a crazy idea. Is it crazy?”

“Probably,” he says with a shrug and a grin. “Kind of just makes me want to do it more.”

She’d never admit it, but she feels the same way. Maybe Bill’s right. He has rubbed off on her.

“So… where do we start? What do we need to do?” she asks, needing more information before she starts spiraling.

“Why don’t we take it slow? Start with you and me and an actual adult conversation about our priorities, and then maybe this weekend I can stop by with some Chinese and we can look into next steps.”

She takes a deep breath, heart rate slowing back down to normal.

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.”

How do we do this? How do we have this conversation we should have had months ago?

Before they get a chance, a waitress stops by to take their orders, and Scully opts for decaf. As electrified and anxious as she feels right now, she really doesn’t need caffeine to make it even worse. She can feel her knee bouncing relentlessly under the table.

Once the waitress is gone, Mulder gets the ball rolling with the first order of business. 

“I guess to start us off, I need to know how involved you want me to be. I can help you find an agency and be your personal reference on your application, or I could—” he pauses. Breathes. “Like I said, I’ll be as involved as you want. I just need to know what you’re thinking.”

She shakes her head. “Mulder, I couldn’t ask you to—”

“I should tell you that the agencies favor couples over single parents,” he adds before she can finish, “It might be more difficult to get approved on your own, but if that’s what you want, I’ll help you.”

She studies him, the nuance of every microexpression on his face. She knows what her heart is wishing for, but what about him? Would she be asking too much of him?

“What do you want?”

He ducks his head, staring at the chipped surface of the table before glancing up at her with an apologetic smile.

“I’m a selfish man.”

She looks at him, needing more of an answer before she dares to respond. If he doesn’t mean what she thinks he means, one wrong word could spell disaster. Upset the delicate balance that is their friendship. She has to hear it straight from his mouth, this is no time for assumptions.

He sits back in his booth, and she braces herself for what he’s about to say.

“I want to coach little league,” he confesses. “I want to drive an ugly minivan, the ugliest one you’ve ever seen. I want to help with math homework, to tell crazy stories at bedtime and go on camping trips together.” 

He looks deep in her eyes, and she shudders, feeling like his words have penetrated her very soul.

“I want it all, Scully. I want a family.”

I want you.

She feels tears pool in her eyes, her throat closing with emotion.

“I want that too,” she chokes out, unable to form any more words.

He reaches out a hand across the table and takes hers. She holds on tight.

“Well, that’s one thing settled,” he says, blinking back the pinpricks of tears in his own eyes.

~~~

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[catsofcalifornia]

Rainy from LA Animal Services East Valley Animal Shelter in Van Nuys, California

Click here for more information about adoption and other ways to help!

[one-time-i-dreamt]

There was an anthropomorphic galaxy woman who adopted me after the apocalypse and she had all these different galaxy cats.

[kirain]

"What a nightmare. Serious attitude problems."

"She'll be out of our hair next month, when she ages out."

"Good riddance."

"She'll never amount to anything much."

"No! She's mine and I love her!"