Curveballs 1
1.
He sits in the waiting room, sipping his cup of coffee. He’s only been there two, three times, as Pop doesn’t like to mix work and family. That’s so typical of him, keeping the multiple aspects of his life separated from one another; Pop’s so smooth at it.
He still remembers seeing Pop’s daughters from his other family at the city library that one afternoon. Both of them got Pop’s nose, poor things. He reveals this news to Ma, only to find that she’s known all along. You were his ‘I’m sorry’ gift, Jackson, didn’t you know that? Dean Van de Kamp is a very sorry man, and expresses his apologies in the form of gifts. Don’t you remember why you got that telescope in your room?
That’s when he grew distant from both his parents. Well, his Ma—Pop has always been distant to him.
“Sir, Mr. Van de Kamp will see you now.” His father’s assistant says to him and leads him into the office.
Less than five minutes later, he is pushed into the elevator as his father screams, “Don’t you come near my son! If I see you again, I’ll phone Sheriff Erickson myself! You punk!”
He rides the elevator down, shaking his head. Nope, he’s got to come back at a different time and try again.
==
He approaches the boy in the Little League uniform. He remembers that Coach Ramirez is never too good at keeping his eyes on the younger players. He’ll just lure the boy away and talk the boy into running away with him.
“Hey, Jackson!” He calls as he conjures up the scenery for the child to see. “Tommy’s dad got ice cream for all the kids! Can you come give me a hand? You get first pick, and I saw only two strawberry shortcake bars in there today.”
He’s almost certain that his dumb young self would fall for that. Time traveling makes him a little tired and dulls his ability to make a fantastic setting, but he really only needs to project some boxes of frozen treats and maybe some chips and a tray of bagel bites.
Little Jackson is eager to help. All the parents know the Van de Kamps never come out to see their son play, so they always solicit his help with the snacks and reward him with the extra cupcake or let him have first pickings.
“Jackson,” he feels a little silly addressing the younger version of himself in such a serious tone. At that age, he remembers, everyone calls him Jacky.
He’s never truly cared for his name, anyway.
“Jackson, do you want to meet your real parents?” He whispers to the boy like it’s a secret. “They live in Virginia. Your real mommy is a doctor, and your daddy is really tall.”
He suddenly gets a little teary-eyed. “I bet your real daddy will always come see you play.”
Little Jackson looks at him with his big eyes; he smiles tenderly at the boy in return. Oh Lord, please let this work. He prays silently and offers his hand to the child. “C’mon, let’s—”
“Stranger danger! Stranger danger!” A young voice screeches. Both Jacksons look and say simultaneously, “Ian!”
The blonde boy runs as he screams, “Coach! Daddy! Come quick!”
He starts running, leaving his younger counterpart in the baseball cap stunned and crying.
==
He is standing outside of the hospital room, looking in through the window. He sees the little body, withering in pain and crying for his Ma. He steps away as one of the nurses, whom he remembers fondly as the Nice Jessie, walks out of the room and sighs to her colleague, “Another night alone for the poor baby.”
He has purposely chosen this time period for his third time travel. Mr. Bertie at the lab is happy that he is so eager to do these test runs, and Bertie never cares what he will do in the past. Bertie doesn’t even care if he returns or not. The older Jackson gets, the more he believes that birds of a feather flock together, and this is especially true for oddballs like him. He is very grateful to Bertie.
He suspects that Bertie is testing out his own theory on a spin of the chaos theory. At this point, he really cares less about that than anything else; he just wants to set things...right.
He remembers that Nice Jessie was wrong about this night. Ma will soon arrive, crying for a reason other than her ailing son. Ma only comes to the hospital when she’s already feeling miserable. He doesn’t blame her; at this age, he is a sullen child, an outcast everywhere. He’s been sick for months, and the doctors have no idea what to do about his mysterious illness. This is also the time that Pop has his third child, a boy this time. The hospital runs him like a lab rat, trying all kinds of treatments on him.
Jackson frowns as he remembers this dark period of his life, when he recalls seeing a nun sitting with him, sometimes with tears on her cheeks, more times than the woman who he’s called Ma for as long as he can remember.
He sees Ma exiting the elevator and conjures up the vision so she sees him as the pediatrician in charge of her son, and speaks to her about transferring little Jackson to a facility on the East Coast where his survival chances are higher.
And to his surprised chagrin, she agrees and signs her son over to him with little convincing. Jackson tells himself to focus on the successful scheme, not on the disappointment that aches in his heart.
==
He holds the child in his arms and knocks on the door. “Mr. Mulder!” He calls and feels tears rolling down his cheeks. Fuck, why am I being so sentimental?
He touches the child’s forehead. Indeed, this is also why he has chosen this time period. Little Jackson will soon recover from his mysterious illness. It’s the perfect time to return him to his birth parents. If this child grows up as William Scully III, he will not end up as him, who conjures up scary monsters as jokes and kills people with his visions.
He keeps knocking, imagining his father, his real father swinging the door open and giving him a hug. Imagining his father accepting them both in his arms, at which point he will explain and leave the child to his second chance at growing up. He will likely not exist anymore, not be able to return to Mr. Bertie, but why would he care about that? As long as a version of himself exists, it would be fine.
He stops knocking when his fist becomes red; the child pats him on the shoulder. “I don’t think anyone’s home.”
“No worries,” he says to the boy, or to himself, he isn’t really sure. “We’ll go to Our Lady of Sorrows and just leave you with Mommy.”
He drives as he rehearses the conversation he is about to have with the woman that gave birth to him. He gets lost twice and misses the highway exit because he’s so nervous. It’s so much easier to convince his dad than his mom, and he’s tricked her every time they’ve met.
He also worries that once he sees her, he might not want to leave her. No, that’ll fuck up everything. He chides himself. Just leave the boy. Leave the boy; pin a note on him that says ‘this is your child, William.’ Just drop him and go. You don’t deserve this kind of love. He does. He gets the second chance.
Jackson holds the boy in his arms and walks aimlessly in the hospital wings, searching for the petite redhead. Mom. Mom. Mom. Where are you?
He spots her. She stands in one of the rooms, a small girl lies on the bed. She touches the girl’s forehead and speaks to her, smiling. Clutching his younger self in his arm, he cannot move his feet.
“Hey, maybe we can both be their sons.” The child notices he’s crying and wipes his tears off for him. “Our mommy seems nice, doesn’t she?”
Jackson sits outside the room, feeling lost and alone. Always feeling lost and alone.
==
He finds himself sitting in front of a huge desk. The boy sits next to him, chewing on a piece of licorice. The fan on the ceiling whirls loudly. He’s so nervous he wants to vomit.
“Do you know who I am?” He asks the man sitting across the desk.
“I believe you’re my son, Jackson.”
“Do you know who he is?” He points at the boy who’s dangling his feet from the chair. “He is also your son. He’s me from 2007.”
Ignoring his father’s dumbfounded look, he carries on: “As you can see, time travel is possible; I know you believe in it. I’ve gone back in time and rescued myself. I was going to return him to you and ... her, before going back to 2019, that is, if I still exist in 2019. I'm aware that I might not. In fact, I wouldn’t be here had I left him with her on that bench in Our Lady of Sorrows, and all our lives would have changed.”
He stares into his father’s hazel eyes; he knows this man believes his words. Ever the believer, his old dad.
“But I’m selfish. I want to be your son too.”
The silence in the room does not stay for long.
“My boy...” His father’s voice trembles. “My boys.”
He feels his father’s embrace, tight and warm; somehow the little one is not forgotten in the hug.
“Boys,” Mulder says, his voice now calm and gentle, “you can’t both be Jackson. Now, which one of you wants to be called William?”
The little boy smiles and raises his hand. “Can I be Fox Jr.?”
2.
Scully almost couldn’t take it at first. Two-thirds of her wanted to run home to her mother—she hadn’t had that feeling in years. But yes, her mother had always provided, time and again, the best refuge when she was rattled and scared.
She remembered running to Mom’s one time, and how Mom kept Mulder from seeing her. Mom almost succeeded, too, but she always had a soft spot for Fox.
Scully knew she couldn’t run away this time, so she willed the one-third to take charge and stay.
Mulder took the news exceptionally well, but of course, he’s Mulder.
And now they have a little boy, who’s 7, and a big boy who’s 18. Yet, they are essentially the same boy.
To accept their existence means that Dana Scully believes in time traveling. She doesn’t. But she can’t explain the 14 DNA tests she ran—all the results indicated that these two boys were the same person, who belonged to her and Mulder.
The age difference helps; her two sons look just like brothers. Mulder got the New Gunmen to tickle the keyboards and procured two new birth certificates. The older one is now William Scully-Mulder, and the younger one is Fox Scully-Mulder, also affectionately known as Fox Jr.
She always thought Mulder would cringe at having a son named Fox Jr., but Mulder was way too thrilled to be the daddy to two boys. Two!
He bonded with William instantly; Mulder was so engrossed with having a son from the future that they spent nights after nights after nights talking about what would happen to the world between now and 2019. Mulder thought about setting out to find Mr. Bertie, but William talked him out of it. They enjoy talking about philosophy and literature and the paranormal; their living room is a salon for the Mulder Boys.
Fox Jr. is her baby boy. He is skinny and clearly recovering from a series of recent illnesses. Scully thought of getting his medical records, but William promised her that she needn't worry about it. Little Fox follows her around the house, never running out of things to say.
She is as nervous as he is when taking the child to his first day of first grade—Fox is anxious, as being so ill made him miss a lot of preschool and kindergarten. Their clasped hands are sweaty, and she wants to cry.
“Honey, what’s the most important thing to remember?” Scully asks her young son.
“Sit still, listen, say excuse me if you fart.” The boy giggles. She giggles, too.
She kisses the boy’s head. “The most important thing is to remember that Mommy and Daddy love you.”
Fox Jr. loves school. His favorite subjects are art and math. He begs to play in the minor league, claiming that he played tee-ball before getting sick. William vouches for him, saying we were goo with his mouth full of pizza.
Then, Fox cries when he sees that his daddy is there watching him play the whole time. Scully tries to make most of his games, and has Mulder videotape the ones she misses.
They also put up a hoop for the driveway, and Scully watches her sons play against their dad.
“It’s two against one!” Mulder hollers, “Ref! Gonna do something?”
“Mom can be on your team.” William suggests, and Fox giggles, “Yeah!”
Scully scores two three-pointers, and her two boys wow with their mouths hanging open.
“She also took baseball lessons from me,” Mulder grins. “Just FYI.”
They curl up on the couch watching scary movies, the boys throwing popcorn at each other and making Ewww sounds when Mom and Dad kiss. Scully notices that their grocery bill has gone up over 60 percent, yet her boys can still put on a few more pounds. She finally understands why her mother was always feeding her and Mulder.
Mulder is convinced that Fox Jr. would grow up looking different from William. “Environmental factors, Scully. Even identical twins looked different, I think especially when they got older.”
She knows she doesn’t care about that. To her, they are two very different boys.
One day she comes home from work, and William tells her that Mulder had taken Fox to the store.
“You didn’t go?” She asks.
“Nope, I was… looking at these.” The teen points to his lap. It’s a thick photo album, an olive branch from her brother Bill. “I think... I used to wish that I could know you better.”
Scully extends out her hand and strokes his hair. She never did tell him that she wanted him to remember that she loved him. Her baby boy looks so grown up. This boy had gone through hell and back trying to right her wrongs. This boy who did the impossible, risking his life so that his family can have a different fate.
“Now you can.” Scully kisses William’s forehead and whispers, “Oh, William, I love you so much.”
“Mom? Can you tell me about your dad?”
Scully nods and sits down next to her son. Her boy who came from the future. “Well, I called him Ahab, and he called me Starbuck…”
3.
“This is how you’re supposed to hold hands.” Fox says to his daddy. “Like this.”
The child grins when he looks up at Mulder, and Mulder still cannot make up his mind as to who this child looks like more. William certainly looks more like him, but this little one just reminds him so much of Scully.
He has a hard time thinking that Fox will grow up to look exactly like William. Fox’s hair is still on the reddish side, and Mulder recalls the baby he held years ago had reddish hair, too.
Mulder wants to believe. He wants to believe that time traveling will be possible in the near future. He finds it romantic that his son, his son, grows up to take matters into his own hands by delivering himself and a version of his younger self to their doorstep.
The three of them had discussed for an hour that day, thinking of the best way to break the news to Scully. They bet and bonded over whether Mommy will faint.
It takes multiple blood tests to convince Scully that the boys are not clones, and that they are really their sons. And every time Mulder asks his children about time traveling, Scully will frown and change the subject quickly. He knows that she is curious to find out more about the Van de Kamps, wondering if they believed that their young son was kidnapped or had gone missing, but William always reassures her that everything is taken care of.
William doesn’t talk very much about his old life, but Fox does. And through the child’s words, Mulder catches glimpses of the kind of life his sons once had.
“Do you like swimming?” The boy asks. “I like swimming. I cannot swim very well, but I like it. I like playing in the water. I couldn’t play at all last year because I was very sick, but don’t worry, Daddy, I’m not sick anymore.”
The child often talks in long sentences like that; William’s answers, on the other hand, are usually short as if he’s being charged by the words he says.
Little Fox started calling him Daddy on the very evening of their reunion. Daddy, can I have some more milk please?
Mulder will always remember that as the first sentence his son has ever said to him. No one’s ever called him Daddy before. It’s strange to be an instant Dad to two children, and how different they are from each other. Fox the chatterbox and William the taciturn.
“When it gets hotter, can we go swimming? Is there a pool nearby? Can Mommy swim good? William swims good. He does the butterfly.” The child goes on to describe a pair of swim trunks he once had.
I can’t believe I was so chatty, his other son says to Mulder once. If you don’t stop him, I think he’ll just go on and on.
Mulder talks to his wife about the old debate on nature versus nurture. He believes that little Fox will grow up to have a different temperament than his brother. That’s what they have chosen to do, to raise the two boys as brothers.
I wouldn’t mind if they turned out to be exactly the same, but I think you’re right, Mulder. It’s the experiences that make a person, isn’t it? Scully says to him. He can tell that she loves to be a mother.
“What do you think about a family vacation, Fox?” Mulder asks. “We can go see where Daddy grew up. Or where Mommy grew up. Or both, depending on how long you and William have for summer vacation.”
Fox hops up and down excitedly. “Yes!” he cries.
“Were you always like this before?” Mulder can’t help but ask the child.
“Like what?” The child asks with big, curious eyes.
Mulder takes a long time to choose his words.
“Were you close to your other Mommy and Daddy?” He settles with this version of the question.
“No, because we can always tell.” Little Fox says proudly. “William and I. We can always tell if people like us or not.”
“and…” Mulder is at a loss for words.
“And we know that you love us. Right, Daddy?” The child tugs on his hand, waiting for his reply.
“Right, Fox.” Mulder squeezes the small hand inside his. “Very much.”
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thanks for reading. tagging @today-in-fic, thanks.
