TITLE: These are the Clouds
AUTHOR:  bcfan 
FEEDBACK:  bcfan@shaw.ca
WEBSITE:  www.geocities.com/bcfanfic
THANKS: and virtual hugs of gratitude to my two beta
readers, MaybeAmanda and Redwyne  
RATING:  NC-17
SUMMARY:  sequel to Whose Work Has Come to Nothing.  
Mulder, Scully, and their teenage son Will deal with 
the fallout of having their dreams come true. 

***

Hope Slide

*

Taut muscles and white knuckled hands on a crowbar 
levered the ramp down, piece by piece.  Sweat ran in 
rivulets under Mulder's t-shirt and cooled his thin body.  
A grim smile of satisfaction.  

A muted cough at the kicked up dust, but Scully heard 
anyway.  She poked her head out the back door.

"Are you okay?"

"Better than okay."  The sun crinkled Mulder's eyes as he 
stared up, nodded.

"Will could help, you know."

Mulder bit his teeth together to prevent sharp words that 
wanted to become an argument.  The muscle in his jaw 
clenched.

"I can do this, Scully.  Just think of the symbolism."  
Mulder's arm swept the yard.  It was steady and firm, the 
tremors of three months ago completely disappeared.

"Well, just don't symbolize yourself into back spasms, 
Mulder.  You know you're still supposed to pace 
yourself."

"Yes, mom."

Mulder bent down and begin to throw splintered planks 
into the wheelbarrow.  Scully silently ducked inside, then 
came out with a broom.  She began to sweep the old 
cement steps, which had been unused for the last two 
years.  Mulder felt waves of disapproval from Scully as the 
broom jerked in her hands.

He ignored her, last night's quarrel still fresh in his mind, 
and turned back to the task.  They worked silently for the 
next hour finishing the ramp tear down and cleaning 
debris, side by side but not together.  Not like they used to 
be.

If Mulder began to grit his teeth against the pain of 
bending and straightening, if he blinked back tears of 
frustration at his still weakened body, if his anger at 
Scully's goddamned doctoring dissipated with the 
realization that she was once again right - well, he wasn't 
ready to acknowledge that.  Mulder deliberately moved to 
the edge of the beach house and muttered, "Going for a 
walk," only breaking his firm stride and slumping with 
pain when he knew he was out of Scully's sight.

He hobbled to the bench overlooking the beach and 
dropped heavily down, then dry swallowed three Advil. 

Eyes slipped closed.  

This was supposed to be their happy ending, but it was day 
to day happiness that was coming close to tearing them 
apart, the pickpickpick of nerves that were at last allowed 
to fray.

Mulder knew he was a total shit.  He'd received nothing 
but unconditional love and acceptance from Scully during 
his long illness, and yet now she was driving him mad.

Don't forget your medication, Mulder.

Can't you pick up after yourself, Mulder?

Can't you find something to do?

No, he couldn't.  He was fifty-four and his quest was over.  
The alien threat had come and gone.  He had no job but 
without the burden of medical expenses, money was the 
least of his worries. 

Mulder had no desire to travel - years on the run had cured 
him of that.  His health had returned and he was getting 
stronger every day, yet still felt the regular aches and pains 
which had been masked, until now, by greater health 
concerns.

His own mortality seemed to mock him.  Weren't things 
supposed to be better?  Shouldn't he feel happier?  

Mulder opened his eyes.  The sun was shining, but without 
the goals that had driven him for a lifetime, the day seemed 
grey and colourless.   

Mulder absently rubbed the fresh scar behind his right ear, 
then jerked his hand down as footsteps approached.  He 
saw Will's lanky frame and still face.  A small smile 
curved Mulder's lips.

"I do believe," Mulder drawled, "that you were sent to spy 
on me."

Will laughed.  "Mom's worried."

"Mom's always worried." 

Will settled next to him on the bench.  He seemed to 
mimic Mulder's hunched posture and Mulder began to 
wonder anew what was going on in Will's head.  They 
rarely talked.  Maybe it was time. 

"I've just been thinking-" Mulder began.

"Good for you, dad."

"Smartass," Mulder grinned. "I've just been thinking about 
how different our lives are now.  When I was your age, I 
lost my sister. I felt like I'd lost everything."

"I know dad.  You told me."

"I did?"

Will shrugged.  "Not in so many words.  But I know."

"Yeah.  You know.  But Will, that's what worries me.  
You know about us, but we don't know about you - unless 
you tell us."

"I - I wanted to find you and mom.  And I did."

"That's not much of an answer.  Are you happy, Will?"

"Everything's fine."  Will stood and held out his hand, 
helping Mulder to his feet.  Mulder reached out and gave 
his son's shoulder a squeeze.

"Thanks."  For helping him up.  For a cure.  For his life.

"No problem.  Mom said you should come back and soak 
in the bath before dinner."

Mulder rolled his eyes.  

"It's time for Dr. Scully to give up her practice."

Nonetheless, Mulder wandered into the bedroom once he 
got back.  He winced as he stripped off his t-shirt, smelled 
it, then tossed it into the hamper.  He continued to disrobe 
as hot water filled the tub.  

Mulder eased himself down for a soak and sighed with 
relief.  Hot water combined with his earlier Advil was 
loosening sore muscles nicely.  

Baths were his new luxury.  When Mulder had been unable 
to raise himself up, he'd been confined to the shower.  As 
he relaxed, he caught himself staring glumly at the grey 
strands in his pubic hair.

Mulder shrugged.  

Thoughts drifted to an old saying - snow on the roof, a fire 
in the furnace.  To his immense relief, his furnace was able 
to fire quite nicely these days.  Even with the awkwardness 
of his teenage son in close proximity.  Even with 
arguments and tension.

Maybe even because of arguments and tension.  Mulder 
was back all the way - and this was one way to prove it.

Mulder started humming.  Come on baby light my fire.  
The time to hesitate is through.  No time to wallow in the 
mire.

"Hey, Scully," he called, "you busy?"

***

Answering Service

*

Will suddenly got that better-leave-my-parents-alone 
feeling.  He didn't mind.  It eased his mind when his 
parents were happy, even though it felt uncomfortable and 
a bit embarrassing to know the reason why.

Will wandered outside, softly closing the front door behind 
him.  He walked down to the end of the path to pick up the 
mail, nodding politely to the inevitable crowd of gawkers 
who gathered to glimpse him, his parents or his house.  
He'd begged on the news for the calling and pleading to 
stop, and it had.  

The crowd now stood silent, with hungry eyes.  It used to 
be the curious, now it was the sickly.  

Will walked with deliberately measured steps and sat on a 
tree stump at the back.  He knew his mom and dad 
accepted him unconditionally, loved him and cared for 
him.  His fears of being seen as weird or different were 
eased from their first meeting.

But other people - they only knew what they heard or read.  
And there was no room for subtlety in a newspaper.  It was 
black and white for a reason.

"Will Van de Kamp Saves Father's Life!"  

"Alien-fighting Teen a Miracle Worker!" 

"Thousands Flock to Quonochontaug in Hopes of a Cure!"

Will traced the puckered scar behind his ear.  He was 
happy - more than happy - to help his dad.  But he didn't 
want to be a saviour, or a guinea pig, or anything but a 
teenage boy living in a small town.  

Will started kicking the grass, wearing out an angry path.  
He couldn't make friends.  Everyone looked at him like he 
was an alien.  He couldn't even go to school.  The first day 
he'd tried Will felt alternating waves of fear and curiosity 
coming from his teachers.  He told mom and dad he'd 
rather do distance education at home.  Couldn't they tell it 
was a lie?

He began to wonder when the hell he could ever do what 
he wanted.  When his dad asked if he was happy - it was 
almost a laugh.  

Will narrowed his eyes in resentment.  Why didn't they 
realize how crappy his life was?

Will's childhood dreams were of baseball.  He'd imagined 
what it would be like to be a major league player, the best 
home run hitter in the world, idolized by fans and rich, 
rich, rich.  Will shook his head, remembering.  

Now he knew how hard it was to be an idol, an icon.

Then, in the facility, he'd dreamed of escaping the tests 
and finding his parents.  That dream had come true, even if 
he'd never predicted how difficult his life would become.

But what was his dream now?  Will bit his lip and 
swallowed.  He couldn't imagine a new dream.  Where 
could he go that fame wouldn't follow?

Will heard an unfamiliar ring coming from inside the 
kitchen.  For their own protection, the Mulders had an 
answering service screen all calls.  Their short list of 
friends rarely rang them up.  

Will ignored the ring.  His shortlist consisted of one person 
who hadn't kept in touch.

The ringing stopped, then his mom swung open the back 
door.

"Phone's for you, Will."

Will blinked in surprise, couldn't stop the delighted grin.  

Minji.  It had to be.  Finally!

Will strode into the kitchen and almost slipped on the 
linoleum in his eagerness to grab the receiver.  He noticed 
his audience.

"Mom," he hissed, "it's private."

Will scowled as his mom smirked at him before walking 
out of the room.  He turned his back and cleared his throat, 
feigning nonchalance.

"Will Mulder here.  Who's speaking, please." 

"Will, it's Minji.  Do you remember me?"

As if he could forget her.  Ever.  

"Yeah, uh, sure.  How you doing?"

Smooth, he chided himself.  Really smooth.

"I'm taking classes at Boston College now."  Minji's voice 
sounded bubbly and completely at ease.  

"That's great, Minji."

"What are you taking in high school, Will?  I bet you're 
pulling in good grades."

"I'm, I'm studying from home.  Just until the end of the 
year," he lied.  He didn't want to appear to be too much of 
a dork.  Not in front of Minji.

"Does that mean you have some free time?  I just finished 
midterms, and I wondered if you could come to Boston for 
a visit this weekend.  I could show you around the campus.  
It would be fun to see you again."

"Hold on a sec, Minji.  I'll look at my schedule."

Will held the phone against his chest, then eased the 
receiver off, afraid Minji could hear the furious pounding 
of his heart.  He so much wanted to go.  Why shouldn't 
he?  He didn't have anything to do around here.

He considered asking his parents' permission for less than 
a second.  Fuck it.  Now was the time for him to do what 
he wanted, not act like a kid. 

"Sounds like a plan, Minji.  My schedule is open.  When 
should I get there?"

"How about Friday afternoon.  Want me to pick you up at 
the train station?"

The thought of riding a train jolted Will back to reality.  
Crowds of people would be too much to bear. 

"No thanks.  I'll drive."  He couldn't help the note of pride 
which crept into his voice.  It deflated when Minji laughed.

"Oh, that's right!  You're the only thirteen year old in 
America with permission to drive."

Damn.  He was hoping she didn't remember his age.

Will hung up the phone, folded a paper with scribbled 
directions in his pocket, and headed towards his bedroom.  
Dad called him back.  Mom and dad sat in their customary 
places, sofa and chair.

"What's up, Will?" 

Will sighed.  He could read his parents' feelings.  Curiosity 
and an anxiousness that circled his mom like an aura.  

He knew they loved him, but did they think of him like an 
adult even though he was so mature, had already done so 
many things?  No.  That was the problem.  An ember of 
resentment burned brighter inside him, made him sound 
angrier that he needed to be.

"What's up?  I'll tell you what's up.  I'm going away for 
the weekend to see my friend, my only friend."

"Now wait a second, young man," mom interjected.  "Let's 
discuss this."

"No.  It's my life and I can decide what to do with it!"

His dad stood up and Will felt something new.  
Disappointment.  His hot feelings suddenly cooled, and he 
felt himself shift nervously where he stood. 

Dad spoke evenly.  "Apologize to your mother, Will."

Will's lips pressed together, then he nodded, sharply.

"Sorry for shouting."

Mom nodded back, her back rigid and eyes narrowed in a 
glare.

"Now start again - have a seat and tell us your plans.  So 
we know what's going on." 

Will slumped into a chair.  He focused on a spot on the 
warn carpet as he outlined his weekend.  He looked up to 
see his dad sitting next to mom, their hands gently 
clasped.

A stretch of silence, then mom finally spoke.

"We're new at this, Will.  Being parents I mean.  But I can 
remember what it was like to be a teenager."

"I faintly remember," dad chimed in, "back in the day."

Mom smiled at dad, then continued, "Thank you for telling 
us what you'd like to do.  Frankly, I have lots of 
concerns."

Will saw dad give his mom's hand a squeeze before he 
spoke.

"Mom and I will talk about this, Will.  Can you wait a 
couple of hours before we get back to you?"

"Sure.  Can I go now?"

At their nod, Will rose and walked quickly to his bedroom.  
He was careful to lock the door - his need for privacy and 
time to sort out his whirlwind of emotions was 
overwhelming.

Will flung himself on the bed and threw an arm over his 
eyes.  His fantasy of Minji in her bikini was crowded by 
new dreams of Minji on campus, at parties with him, in the 
bedroom.  His future suddenly seemed endlessly possible 
as he felt his body respond.

***

The Wager

*

"Let's go for a drive, Mulder."

Scully was right, Mulder knew.  It was impossible to know 
how much or how far Will could read them, and they had 
something important to discuss.  Perhaps even more than 
one something.

Mulder carefully backed out of the driveway, a dozen 
people moving silently out of the way to let them pass.  
Their presence reminded him of Will's dilemma.  

Their son was an icon and a teenage boy at the same time.  
Mulder knew he had to be lonely.

And the boy's parents?  Well, Mulder now realized how 
his own dad must have felt.  Proud and dazed and a little 
bit irritated by his son's unique abilities.  For a man used 
to obscurity, who treasured his privacy, Mulder found it 
galling to be in publicity's constant glare.             

Mulder empathized with his fish on a new, visceral level.

Will was simultaneously his greatest source of pride and the 
root cause of an unreasoning jealousy that he tried mightily 
to deny.  Mulder hated himself for the jealous part, but felt 
helpless to resist.  It was as if the spotlight of Scully's 
affection could only be pointed in one direction. Will was 
haloed by her shining light whereas she seemed to continue 
to see Mulder as needy. 

He drove up the narrow track to the lookout point, 
purposefully blocking the lane so no other cars could pull 
beside them.  He flung his arm behind Scully, gently 
rubbing her neck with his palm.  

"I feel a teenage headache coming on - how about you, 
Scully?"

Scully leaned back into his caress.  "God, Mulder, I'm 
trying to block out all the stupid things I did in high 
school.  If Will starts smoking-"

"He'll be doing just what his mom did."

Scully gave a rueful chuckle.

Murder's teasing voice turned serious.  "I did a lot of 
stupid things then too, Scully.  It's almost like you have to 
do those things.  People only learn from their mistakes."

"But Mulder, Will's so vulnerable right now.  How can we 
protect him when so many people want something from 
him?"

Mulder sighed and withdrew his hand.

"Scully, when you were Will's age, did you want to be 
protected?"

Scully narrowed her eyes.  "I see where you're going with 
this."

"Did you?"

"No I didn't, but-"

"But what, Scully?  He can read people's feelings better 
than anyone.  I know his gift hurts him.  He's aware of the 
greed and avarice of others, much earlier than he should 
be.  But his gift can protect him, too."

"It didn't protect him from government tests."

"I know.  But we can't keep Will locked away from the 
world.  He'll start hating us if we try."

"He already sounds like he hates us."  Scully turned her 
serious face 
towards Mulder, and he felt a pang.  His love 
for her washed 
over him, and he impulsively leaned over 
and kissed her.
Scully's worry lines eased slightly as she smiled.

"Sex isn't the answer to everything, Mulder."

"It's a good answer, though."

Scully slapped his arm.  "Get serious.  What are we going 
to do?"

"We're going to rent a cell phone and give it to him.  
We're going to sit down with Will and talk until we're sure 
he'll call us if he has problems.  And we're going to let 
him go."

"He's only thirteen, Mulder."

"He's a thirteen year old who saved the world and his 
father's life.  We can't make all of Will's decisions for 
him.  We have to bet that he'll make good decisions for 
himself.  Will trusts Minji, Scully.  She's one of the few
people he does trust."

Scully looked troubled, "But what if Minji tries to use 
Will?"

"He'll know."

At her reluctant nod of assent, Mulder turned on the engine 
for a tight u-turn down the lane.  He hummed atonally 
along with the radio, while Scully stared out the passenger 
window.  Passing a florist, he impulsively pulled to a stop 
at the curb.

"Mulder?"

"Be right back."

Within two minutes he opened the car door, and presented 
a small bouquet of roses to Scully with a flourish.  "Happy 
Mother's Day."

Scully shook her head.  "Mother's Day isn't until May," 
but she eagerly reached for the flowers, smelling their 
fragrance, her eyes slipping closed in appreciation.

"Actually, if being a mother is making hard decisions - 
today is your Mother's Day."

He winked.  And felt immeasurably more cheerful on the 
drive home.

*** 

Pub Crawl

*

Will was smiling as he pulled up outside Minji's residence.  
Minji's directions to Voute Hall were perfect.  Even better, 
no one had recognized him on the drive.  With his 
sweatshirt hood pulled up and sunglasses against the 
autumn brightness, he blended in with other students.  No 
problem.  

He was lucky for his height.  Dad had told him he had 
sprouted up early too.  

Will shuffled his size twelve sneakers through the tattered 
remains of leaves and reached for the door - when Minji 
suddenly burst through, shouting, "Will!"

Minji grabbed him in a hug, and colour rushed to his face.  
He patted her awkwardly on the back, then took a step 
back as Minji released him.

"Hi, Minji."

"I've been waiting for you - I have our weekend all 
planned!  I hope you don't mind, Will."

"No, that's great.  But," Will hesitated, "there's one thing."

"What?"

"Do you mind not telling anyone who I am?  I mean, I'm 
not ashamed or anything but-"

Minji looked at him seriously.  "I know, Will.  I read about 
how people have been mobbing your house, following you 
around.  I told everyone you're my friend from my old 
high school."

A sigh of relief.  "Thanks."

Will fell headfirst into Minji's whirlwind of a campus tour.  
His head was spinning as she chatted excitedly about her 
courses, her new friends and her plans.

"I'm going to major in Film Studies, Will.  We just 
analyzed Potemkin and Metropolis.  Have you thought 
about what you'd like to do after high school?"

"Not really."

"I know it seems so far away now, Will, but it's not.  
You'll see.  I'm not sure if you'd want to come here, 
though.  This is a Catholic college."

"My mom's a Catholic.  This place is really nice."

"She is?  That'd be great then.  I could be like your big 
sister on campus."

Will flushed, and had to turn away to keep Minji from 
seeing the sudden flash of sorrow in his face.

A pit stop for pizza later, Minji and Will were walking 
back to residence when a rusted Civic pulled next to them 
at the curb.  Will watched silently as Minji rushed over to 
greet her friends, then tentatively stepped into her warm 
circle of introductions.

One of the guys - Brad or Brett, Will wasn't sure - asked 
about going up the hill for a beer.

Minji glanced at Will.  "I don't know-"

"Sounds good."  Will stuffed his hands in his jacket 
pocket.  

"Hop in.  You can pay for the first pitcher."

Will squeezed into the back seat.  Minji was dizzyingly 
close, so close her tangy sweat tickled his nose.  Not 
unpleasant.  Fresh.  Will squirmed slightly to adjust his 
suddenly tight jeans, hoping that Minji wouldn't notice.

As he sank into an aching moment of physical closeness, 
Will felt simple good feeling and silliness from the three 
others on the periphery of his consciousness as the car 
chugged up the hill.  

Minji spoke quietly, her breath tickling his ear.  "Are you 
sure about this, Will?"

"No problem.  You worry too much." 

Will felt like he was moving underwater as they swarmed 
into the bar.  His dream Minji now seemed childish.  He 
felt like an idiot, a kid, a dork.  Pleasure at being 
unrecognized warred with the fact that he was at a loss to 
know how to behave with Minji's raucous friends. 

Will was almost shocked when the waitress took his 
money without a glance.  People looked at him so 
constantly that it was a novelty to be ignored.  One beer, he 
thought.  I'll pace myself.

Peanuts and smoke and loud music changed Will's mind.  
He staggered and almost fell as he headed towards the 
back.  Sighing as he relieved himself, Will felt a push from 
behind.  An unseen 
hand grabbed the hood of his sweatshirt and spun him 
around.

Will choked back the bile that wanted to rise.  One man 
held his arm as the other roughly grabbed his chin, stared 
at his face with blurry eyes.

"Hey, you're that alien kid, ain't you?"

"What?"  Will tried to back away.

"Not so fast, boy.  Lookee here, Charlie, we got someone 
here that might be worth something to somebody."  

The vise on his arm tightened, and started to drag Will out 
of the bathroom and towards the back exit.  The other man 
pushed him from behind.

Will panicked, tried to scream - and a filthy hand clamped 
over his mouth.  He bit down as hard as he could while twisting away.
  
Suddenly he was shoved to the ground when Minji 
looked to the back and started shouting.  He tried to raise 
his head, saw two pairs of battered work boots running, 
then began to vomit helplessly.

Will moaned.  His head was throbbing in time to the 
spinning room.  He squeezed his eyes tight as he felt 
himself pulled into the night air and into the back of the 
Honda.

Humiliated, he curled tight and covered his head with his 
arms.

"I'm sorry, Will," he heard from an echoey distance.  "I 
should have taken better care of you."

Tears of frustration and loss stung his eyes.  Will bit his lip 
hard to stop from sobbing.

As the bumpy ride down the hill stretched time into chaos, 
Will felt himself sink into a dark, dreamless sleep.

Down.

Down.

Until he suddenly jerked himself awake.

The first thing Will noticed was the fetid taste in his 
mouth, then the pounding in his head, spiking behind his 
eyes.  He consciously had to peel his eyes open to a dark 
room.

Will levered himself up off a scratchy green sofa and a 
blanket slid to his waist.  Someone had settled him there 
fully clothed - hadn't even bothered to remove his shoes or 
coat.

He stuck his hand into his pocket and felt his lifeline - the 
cell phone mom and dad had rented for him.  He flipped 
open the phone and looked at the dial.

I could call mom, he thought.  She said I should call.

Will sighed.  No.  He got himself into this mess.  He could 
get himself out.

He swallowed and sat blinking, then staggered to an open 
door and peeked in.  The bathroom.  Will then rummaged 
in a kitchen drawer until he found a paper and pen, stuck 
his note on the fridge, and quietly left the apartment.  His 
breath came out in frosty plumes as he unlocked the car 
door.

Time to head home. 

*** 

Fringe Festival

*

Mulder glanced up and caught Scully sneaking yet another 
look at the unblinking light of the answering machine.  

He shrugged - he'd hoped to ease Scully's worries about 
their son's trip, but it wasn't happening.

"C'mon," he urged.  "Let's go to bed."

Their bedroom smelled like candle wax as they disrobed, 
slipped under the sheets.  Mulder settled pillows behind 
his neck and head, grasped Scully's hand and idly played 
with her fingers.

"What would you think about moving, Scully?"

Scully propped her pillow behind her and looked up, 
obviously surprised.

"This is your family home."

"I know.  It was great to be able to move back here when 
we had nowhere else to go, but to tell you the truth, I don't 
feel sentimental.  I'm ready for a change.  And we saw 
how the good folks of Quonochontaug treated us before 
Will came back."

"They were a bit stand-offish."

"Scully, they treated us like scum.  Diseased scum."

Scully chuckled.  "Things are better now."

"Are they?  The walls might as well be made of glass.  I 
feel like an exhibit in the circus."

"I don't know if things would be different if we moved, 
Mulder.  People might gather around Will wherever we 
go."

"Well, I have this crazy idea - wanna hear it?"

Scully laughed, sounding more relaxed than she had in 
forever.  Mulder couldn't help beaming at her in return.

"Bring it on, G-man.  This better be good."

"Now - don't say no until you hear me out."  Mulder held 
his palm out, and Scully's eyes sparkled.  This is what we 
used to be like together, he thought.  I want it back.

"First," he tweaked one of her fingers, "we need money."

Scully nodded.

"Secondly, we need something to put our backs up against 
again.  Both of us."

"Mulder-"

"Hold on a sec.  Third, we need a place for Will to grow 
up.  It's not healthy here, Scully.  Will needs room to meet 
other people in a setting where he can be himself, discover 
who he's going to be.  He's in transition to adulthood, and 
he's not happy here."

"Will says he's happy."

"No," Mulder gently brushed her face.  "Will says he's 
fine.  He's his mother's son.  And we both know that fine 
doesn't always mean happy."

Scully leaned back, her eyes downcast and sad.  "I've been 
trying so hard.  Ever since Will came back."

Mulder pulled her into a quick embrace.  

"You're the best mom - the queen of moms - that a boy 
could have.  But the problem is, Will's not a baby, or even 
a little kid.  He came back to us at a time when every 
instinct and hormonal urge is telling him to pull away.  He 
wants to grow up, Scully.  We just have to figure out a way 
to guide him that he'll accept."

Scully lay, silent.  Mulder continued his loose embrace, 
waiting for her to think thinks through.  As he waited, he 
eagerly considered where they could go.  No big cities - 
crowd control for Will would be impossible.  They 
couldn't afford a compound or gated community.  An 
island?  Somewhere out west?  

Old habits die hard, Mulder thought.  We're a team now.  
We have to decide as a team.

"So Scully - ready for my crazy idea?"

"Sure.  I guess."

"We could sell this place for a pretty good price.  But I'm 
thinking the way to kill two birds with one stone is to set it 
up as the Will Mulder-Van de Kamp museum.  We'd still get some 
money, and it would give those people who insist on 
travelling to see Will a place to go.  Kind of like a 
president's home tour, but not."

"Mulder, you're nuts!"

"Maybe on the fringe of being nuts.  But why wouldn't it 
work?"

Scully scowled.  "Besides the whole ego thing, you 
mean?"  She shook her head.  "It just seems somehow - 
wrong - to condone some kind of shrine dedicated to our 
own son."

"We can't stop people from wanting to be close to Will.  
This would be their way to do it.  And besides, the 
museum could do some good.  Not just for us, I mean."

"How?"

Mulder snuggled back with Scully tucked under his left 
arm, his right gesturing as he spoke.

"If we charged an entry fee, any profit could go to medical 
research.  I'm thinking Parkinson's research, Scully.  
When I was so sick, you became an expert.  You probably 
know more about Parkinson's Disease than many of the 
doctors I visited.  And - and - think of what it would mean 
if you and some others, working with the money we raised, 
found a cure."

"Mulder," Scully shook her head, but she was smiling.  
"What a beautiful dream.  It would help Will, too, take the 
pressure off him."

"Do you like my crazy idea, Scully?"

"I'm considering the possibilities.  We've got a lot to talk 
about when Will gets back."

"Will promised to call if he had problems - I'm sure he's 
having fun with his friend.  We've got the weekend to 
plan." 

"I'd like that.  To work for the good, instead of fighting the 
bad guys like we used to do."  

Scully's words were mumbled sleepily, but they wrapped 
around Mulder's soul, insinuated into the cracks.  Work for 
the good.  Sounded like something he could get behind.

Feeling a bit tipsy from an unaccustomed bottle of merlot, 
Mulder tightened his embrace, began to kiss Scully's eyes, 
her cheeks and finally, her lips.

"Feel like a massage?"  He whispered the suggestion in her ear.
 
She nodded and he finally had Scully right where he wanted 
her.  Stretched out on her stomach in the middle of the bed.  

He took a moment to drink in the sight.  Practical Scully 
had insisted on throwing a towel over the sheets first - the 
contrast tingled right under his belly button, deep in his 
gut.  Creamy skin against port red terrycloth.  Strands of 
silken auburn fanning across her cheek.   The trail of her 
backbone leading to two lush globes that were perfect 
handfuls.

"Mulder," mumbling, "You promised me a 
massage."

"Oh yeah."  

Mulder smirked, his cock already 
half-hard from anticipation.    

"I picked up some new massage oil.  Wanna smell?"  He 
held the small bottle of lavender fragrance under her nose.

"Mmm."  Scully's eyes slipped closed.  "But what's wrong 
with the old lotion?"

"Too many memories."  Scully's hands had eased his cramped 
muscles, relieved his pain, on hundreds of past occasions.

Scully raised her head slightly and looked seriously at 
Mulder, then nodded as she settled back.   

His knelt, his long legs straddling Scully right below her 
ass.  He warmed some lotion in his hands, then rubbed it 
firmly across her shoulders, kneading her neck until he felt 
tension ease.  Focusing on Scully's back and arms, he was 
aware of every grunt and sigh of pleasure.

"I love your hands, Scully,"  Mulder whispered as he 
carefully circled each finger with the fragrant oil.

"Love your hands too."

Mulder began to use his thumbs to massage her backbone, 
large hands framed on either side of her torso.  Up and 
down, up and down, each sweep going lower until he 
dipped over her cheeks, sweeping into her crease.  Scully 
began to lift her hips slightly with each rhythmic touch.

"Hmm, Scully, your feet might be a bit dry.  I better 
check."

Scully whimpered in frustration and Mulder bit back a 
snicker.  Moving to the side, Mulder paid careful attention 
to each leg and, as promised, long minutes on each foot, 
until they relaxed in his hands.  He heard a soft, contented 
sigh, and began to worry that Scully might be falling 
asleep. 

He moved again, kneeling between her outstretched legs.  
Mulder pooled a small amount of oil in his palms, and 
began to rub the stripe of skin between her tailbone and 
clit.  Gentle at first, then firmer.

Scully was raising her hips in earnest now, seeking 
contact.  

"Let me - let me turn around," Scully gasped.

"Yeah."

As soon as she turned, Mulder leaned down and began 
sucking her breast.  Scully grabbed handfuls of his hair as 
she moaned.  Mulder sucked and nibbled her breasts as he 
held one hand firm over her abdomen and, with the other, 
continued to rub and tease.  

He suddenly bent low and sucked her clit hard as he 
plunged his slick fingers inside her.

A deep moan and he could taste her as she convulsed 
around his fingers.  Mulder slowly sat back and shared a 
smile.  Scully seemed to be glowing.

"Come here, big boy," Scully teased.

That was all the encouragement he needed.  He slid easily 
inside, then pulled Scully's ass up as he began to move.  
Scully arched her back, giving him welcome friction.  

Almost there.  

Almost.  There.

Mulder grunted with pleasure as he emptied into her, then 
collapsed on top, elbows holding some of his weight.  

Scully pulled him down all the way, wrapped her arms 
around him.  

He heard a murmur, "Love you."

"You too."

Mulder drifted on the bed, Scully a warm bundle in his 
arms, until a shove told him he was getting too heavy. 

"Do you want to shower, Mulder?"

"Do you think I should - isn't lavender a manly scent?"

They stepped into the shower together.  Without the seat 
that Mulder had used during his illness, they had room to 
wash each other's backs, enjoying playful splashes and 
touches.

As they toweled off and got into bed, Mulder spooned 
around Scully in a loose embrace.   

He drifted to sleep thinking of their future.

Next morning, they were relaxing with coffee at the 
kitchen table when they heard a car pull up in the drive.  
They stood, exchanging anxious looks.  Will wasn't 
expected until tomorrow.

Scully gasped and Mulder's jaw fell open as Will dragged 
in, looking dejected.   

Flecks of vomit spattered his shirt and jacket and the smell 
of beer lingered in the air.  Mulder took one look at Will's 
red-rimmed eyes and the tear tracks on his dirty face and 
threw an arm around him.  As he guided Will to a chair 
Scully gave her son a fierce hug.  Mulder saw Will lean 
into her embrace, knew there would be a story, and hoped 
Will would share.

"Things didn't work out, mom."  Tiny voice.

"Oh, Will," Scully murmured.

"You look like hell, Will."

Will smiled faintly.  "Thanks a lot, dad."

Mulder listened to what he was sure was an abbreviated 
version of his son's adventures.  He heard about the 
campus and the bar, getting drunk and sick, but nothing to 
explain the bruises on his chin, the tear in his jacket, or 
why he left Minji and came back early.  

Give him time, Mulder counseled himself.  This is the 
most we've heard Will share about himself since he came.

Will's eyes started to slip shut as his narrative petered to a 
close.  Mulder hoisted him under the arm.

"Up you go.  Time for a shower and nap.  After you sleep 
we have some things to talk about."

Will blinked blearily.  "Thanks, dad."

Mulder shrugged as he walked back into the kitchen.  He 
lifted his coffee cup and gave Scully a wry smile.

"A toast, Scully.  To parenthood."

"To parenthood."

***

The People They Would Become  

*

What a difference a year makes.  Will mulled over the 
changes as he crested the hill, jogged in place while 
waiting for his dad.

Changes - and all of them good.

Dad was healthier.  He could even run pretty good for an 
old guy, and his practice with families seemed to be going 
well.  Mom was happier, and it was interesting - damned 
interesting - to help out around her lab after school.  He 
could only do small things now, but he was making plans.

And school - yeah, school was great too, although he 
couldn't say that out loud without scoffing and teasing 
from his friends.  They just didn't realize what the 
alternative looked like.

Will squinted in the bright New Mexico sun, then decided 
to circle back and see why dad had stopped by the shoulder 
of the path.

"What is it, dad?"

He bent over next to his dad, started to reach down to pick 
up the small, dully shining object that was half-buried in 
the red dirt.

Dad grabbed his wrist, pulled him back.

"Don't touch it."  In a voice so strange and severe it made 
Will shiver.

"Dad?"

Dad walked over to a brush's meager shade, began to pull 
thoughtfully at his water bottle.  Will followed, feeling 
confused and a little angry.  What wasn't dad telling him?  
What was that thing and what did those strange marks 
mean?

His dad looked at him, and Will felt that he was looking 
inside him, seeing his muddled feelings as clearly as if 
they were written on his forehead.

He smiled sheepishly.  His burning desire to know 
everything immediately collided with the beliefs of his 
friends.  Belief in patience, revering nature.  Hard lessons 
to absorb when they weren't natural to him, but Will was 
trying.

"I'm not trying to hide anything from you, son," his dad 
began, "I'm just trying to think of the right way to say it."

"Okay."

"I've seen something like that piece of metal, a long time 
ago.  When I touched it, the shard made me sick."

"Parkinson's?"

"No.  Something else, even earlier than that."

Will leaned forward with interest.  Mom and dad rarely 
talked about their life from before.  Before the aliens.  
Before he lived with them.

"The fragment of metal was like a key that opened 
something up inside.  It changed me.  I guess I'm getting 
older."

"You are old, dad."

Mulder snorted.  "I guess I'm getting older, because I'm 
not blindly sticking my hand into everything anymore.  I 
was standing there wondering if I should pick it up and see 
what happens, or ignore it and keep what we have here."

"It really could make that much of a difference?"

"I don't know.  Is worth knowing the risk to you, Will?"

Will flushed, proud that his dad cared about his opinion.  
He thought about his new home, where miles without road 
signs and tightlipped friends kept their lives private from 
strangers.  He remembered the camaraderie of basketball 
games, the junior prom, and a special girl he was going to 
ask.

"If we were Navajo," Will began, remembering a story 
he'd analyzed in class last week, "we'd leave any artifacts 
we found from people long ago right where they were.  We 
wouldn't touch them, they would be considered sacred.  
We'd let them remain a part of the earth."

Dad's nod encouraged him to continue.

"If we were scientists - well then, I guess we'd grab it and 
study it immediately.  Maybe ask for a big grant."

Dad laughed, and Will grinned.

"Go on."

"I don't want to decide right away, dad.  I'm not Navajo 
and I'm not a scientist.  Can't we leave it for now, until 
we're ready for any changes it would bring.  Just in case it 
does make changes?"

Dad nodded, wiped his face with his t-shirt.  Will shivered 
a bit as the sweat cooled on his body.  A gust of foreboding 
uncovered more of the metal as Will stared at it.

"It's okay, son.  Choosing to think first is always a good 
idea.  Let's go, mom's waiting."

Will marked the time, the day, where his feet stood on the 
path. His dad had just taught him something important.  
Decisions about his future were his to make - and with 
decisions came responsibility.

Will bumped teasingly against his dad as they began the 
run back home.  He was happy to be in the moment.  
Family, friends, a home cooked meal - these were his now.

The future could wait.

***

END These are the Clouds by bcfan

***

I borrowed the title and theme of this story from William 
Butler Yeats.  In a hard-edged, uncaring world, 
poetry reveals all that's important.

These are the Clouds

These are the clouds about the fallen sun,
The majesty that shuts his burning eye:
The weak lay hand on what the strong has done,
Till that be tumbled that was lifted high
And discord follow upon unison,
And all things at one common level lie.
And therefore, friend, if your great race were run
And these things came, so much the more thereby
Have you made greatness your companion,
Although it be for children that you sigh:
These are the clouds about the fallen sun,
The majesty that shuts his burning eye.

W.B.Yeats