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Title: He's Wondered About a Happy Birthday
Rated: PG
Category: MSR, Post Series, Short Story.
Spoiler(s): All of it.
Summary: Just a little gift from me, as a peace offering
for forgetting Mulder's birthday.
Feedback: patfiler2016@outlook.com
Archive: Gossamer. Please ask before you pick it up,
and I'll likely be happy to provide it.
Author's Note: Sorry I'm so late, Mulder. Happy birthday
to you and daddy Chris Carter.
ALEXANDRIA. VA.
Sleep. It had been something he had been lacking for
many, many years. Although it hadn't impacted on his work
performance at The Bureau, the lack of sleep was something
Fox Mulder had been used to since his thirteenth year of
life. The sleep had come sparsely all these years. If
it hadn't been induced out of necessity for the sake of
surgery, it had arrived because his tired mind could no
longer resist the lure of serotonin.
"It's been a long time," his father told him. Mulder
was walking in some unknown wonderland of Carolinian
forest that vibrated with life, peace and beauty. "You've had a lot
of unrest, and it was our doing. I regret not having been there for
you." Bill Mulder sat on a rotting tree stump and held his hands
toward his ersatz son. "Come sit a moment. You're exhausted."
"I... I don't know why I'm here, Dad." Mulder was now
past forty years old, and saw no necessity to be in
such a beauteous place when the world was in such chaos.
"You feel guilty for meeting your body's needs. Well,
let me tell you, you need not feel guilt over such a
wondrous creation. No, I won't tell you where we are. No,
I never meant for things to happen so tragically. No, I
was not in favor of sending your sister to 'those creeps'"
The younger Mulder pursed his lips in an effort to prevent
himself from lashing out with the most vile epithets he was
thinking. "Doesn't look like Hell, so I guess I AM
dreaming. My father the mind reader, a new sitcom. Tell
me, Dad. Tell me about my real father. Was he more handsome
to Mom? Was he a better lover? Why... "
"Son. I call you that because I was a father to you. Now, you are a
father, and a good father. Whoever sired you is not important. My
pride in you is beyond your comprehension. You and the little
red-haired girl, Charlie Brown, saved the world."
"With a little help from my friends," Mulder dryly,
sarcastically whispered. "Well, it was one hell of a
fight, and we earned our keep. So what the hell am I
doing here talking to a dead man? By the way, I would
like to believe the dead are trying to tell us something. And
another thing... "
The elder Mulder stood from the stump and stared seriously
into the younger Mulder's angry eyes. "Dammit, have a happy
birthday and kiss those grandchildren of mine for me. I have
places to go and people to deal with. See you in fifty years. Now,
take William fishing before he gets too old to respect his old man."
Bill Mulder and the lovely forest disappeared as the sleeper was
jolted awake by a little boy shaking him by
the shoulders. "Wha-- ?"
"Daddy! Happy Birthday! Wake up! We got a lotta stuff
to do, presents and a big, big cake!"
Fox Mulder smiled and hugged William. "Yeah, I guess we have a
lot every day, don't we?"
"Yeah," Scully answered from the doorway. "So rise and shine,
drink your coffee, and enjoy. We have the whole day off, and the fish
are waiting down on the dock. Happy Birthday Mulder."
"I think it is." Mulder smiled and hugged his wife and son before the
girls awoke. "This is what I've wondered about for years. A happy
birthday."
END
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