Title: Memories of Mom
Author: E. Watson
Date: May 24 2002
Feedback: [email protected]
Archive: Yes to Harem, all others please email me first.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit, don't sue.
Keywords: Jeffrey Spender POV, Cassandra Spender, Pre-X-files, Story,
Angst
Spoilers: Patient X/RATB The End/The beginning and Closure
Summary: What happened "20 years ago" that caused Jeffrey Spender so
much pain?

Notes: It's important to know that Jeffrey's POV here is after "The
end" and before "Two Fathers." I wrote this before William and the
Truth aired. Some things revealed may make this an AU. (See notes at
end) Thank you to MJ for the beta, and for telling me it was post
worthy. This is my first attempt at Jeffrey's character. It's not a
happy piece, but I hope I did him justice.

--------

I've just finished giving my latest report to Assistant Director
Skinner. It's not a duty I enjoy. The man seems sensible enough, but
for some reason he's quite close with Agent Mulder. He doesn't say
anything demeaning, but I can tell what he thinks of me by the looks
I get from him.

In fact, I get a lot of those looks, and for the life of me I can't
understand why. Just how the hell did I become the bad guy in this
situation? Agent Mulder and his partner were responsible for the
disappearance of my mother. I'm the victim here, but with the
attitude I get, you wouldn't know it.

It's frightening really, to see how many people are unable to realize
how harmful endorsing one man's fantasies can be.

I know first hand the damage that it causes. It was that type of
mentality that caused so much pain for me, and my mother.

My mother.

Memories of my mother always bring up three little words.

Don't cry honey.

I was five years old the first time she disappeared. There was no
warning. No goodbye. One morning I woke up, and she was gone. I
never knew why she left, or if she'd come back. I remember I'd watch
out the window for hours, hoping to see her come up the driveway, but
she never did.

Then one day she was back. Just like that. I came down for
breakfast and there she was, sitting at the kitchen table, having a
cigarette.

We looked at each other for a long time. I wasn't sure if I was
really seeing her. I was scared saying anything would make her
disappear again.

Finally, I asked. "Mom?"

She gasped, and I started crying. I now understand that she didn't
know who I was. She was probably in as much shock as I was.

She got up from the table, put her arms around me and said, "Don't
cry honey."

But that was all she said. She just held me while I cried. There was
no explanation, no reassurance that she wouldn't leave again, just,
"don't cry honey".

Eventually, she let go, and made ice cream sundaes for breakfast.

------------

When she came back the first time, things were great. My mom never
seemed to care about the normal responsibilities other parents have.
She'd spend entire days just playing.

One day my father came home from a trip. Mom and I were having a
sword fight in the living room. We were pirates. I had just won
the battle, and mom was doing one of her great death scenes when we
heard my father intentionally cough.

I looked up, and saw him standing at the edge of our living room. Mom
got up, and attempted to fix her hair. She walked up to my father,
still holding her sword, kissed him on the cheek and said, "Welcome
home."

My father was not impressed.

"Would you like to explain to me what's going on?" He asked.

"Oh, we were trying to find a lost treasure. I think it's under the
middle cushion, but Jeffrey..."

"Really Cassandra, look at this place."

In my father's defense, the place was a disaster. Dishes were
everywhere. I don't think one was washed since he left. Socks were
scattered all over the floor, blankets were strewn on the couch and
chairs. In our battle, lamps were knocked over, a picture fell down,
and the rest were severely tilted.

Mom looked around the house, then back at my father. She smiled and
shrugged. "Oops."

I started picking up my toys, trying to avoid my father's wrath.

"Oops?" He asked. "Oops is unacceptable. What if I had brought one
of my associates home with me? Invited them over for a nice dinner
with my wife and son, only to find this?" He gestured around the
house.

"Well, you didn't bring anyone home with you. You never bring anyone
home with you. I don't see the big deal, I'll tidy things up right
away."

"See that you do. I'm going out to get something to eat. It's
obvious there isn't a hot dinner waiting for me here. I want this
place cleaned by the time I get back."

I started apologizing to her as soon he left. She did, after all, get
in trouble because of me. I felt guilty, but also frightened. I
thought if everything weren't perfect, she'd leave again.

"It's not your fault, dear." She glared at the door, retrieved a
garbage bag, and started throwing everything in: dishes, towels,
socks, anything that was part of the mess.

I just stood there, in awe and shock. I kept thinking about how my
father would react, and was scared this would mean she'd go away.

I went up and tugged her arm. "Mom, please. It's okay. I can wash
the dishes. You can't just throw everything out."

She smiled at me, and ruffled my hair. "Don't cry honey. I'm just
cleaning up the same way your father disposes of his messes."

I didn't know what that meant. I'm beginning to now.

After she had everything in garbage bags, she wrote a note and told
me not to look. She placed all the bags on our front porch. Despite
her warning, I peeked outside, read the note, and immediately went to
bed. I had no intention of being up when my father came home to three
garbage bags of stuff on the porch with a note saying, "I'm not your
damn maid."

She went away again two weeks later.

-------

The next time she came back, things were different. She was still
mom, but there were no more sword fights. My mom tired easily, and
spent most of her time in bed. We'd play cards and board games a lot.
She also started having nightmares about, "them".

"They" were coming to get her. "They" were going to do horrible
things to her. I was eight then and believed every word. I was also
naive enough to think I could protect her. At night, whenever my
father was away, I'd leave my room and stand guard thinking I could
stop them from taking her. I never managed to stay up the whole
night, and would end up sleeping in front of her door until her
screams woke me up.

One night she woke up first, and found me sleeping in the hallway.

"Jeffrey honey," she giggled, "what are you -" She stopped, noticing
the toy gun I held.

Her hands went her mouth. She dropped down on the floor beside me.
Mistaking her reaction, I thought I did something wrong.

"I was just trying to-"

"Oh Jeffrey," she cried, "I know what you were doing. You're not in
any trouble."

She wrapped her arms around me. "I'm glad you're trying to help,
Jeffrey, but a boy your age should really be sleeping in his own
bed."

I broke away from her. "But mom," I pleaded. "I have to stay here.
Who's going to make sure no one comes and get you when dad's away?"

She was silent for several seconds. Finally, she nodded. She wiped
the tears off her face and noticed I had some on mine.

"Don't cry honey."

She went into my room and got my blanket and pillow.

"Wait here." She said, handing me my bedding.

She went downstairs for about a minute. When she came back up she had
a bottle. Some kind of cleaning stuff, but what I noticed back then
was the skull, the bony hand and various other danger signs.

"That gun isn't going to do much damage, sweetie. Use this." She
handed me the bottle, and added, "make sure you get them in the
eyes."

I know now that she emptied the bottle, and put water inside. She
knew I couldn't do anything. It was ridiculous really, but she didn't
know what else to do. It worked for a while. It gave me some power
in a situation I had no control in, but in the end, it didn't make a
difference.

She left again while I was at school.

--------------

By the time I was ten, my mother had gone away five times. By then I
figured I was too old for tears, so I got angry instead. I was in
trouble a lot in school and home. In the span of two years, I went
through six different care givers. No one other than my mother ever
gave me an explanation about where she went.

The last time she left, I wasn't even shocked. I was upset and
angry, but it was like I expected it. What I didn't expect was what
she'd bring back.

She returned shortly before Christmas, and brought a girl with her. I
don't know how old she was, early teens, I think. She had long dark
hair. Mom called her Samantha. She didn't talk much. The only person
she seemed comfortable with was my mother.

I hated her. I know it sounds mean, but I did. I had no rational
reason for my emotion. She was never mean to me. In fact, we barely
spoke, but I still hated her. It was bad enough that my mom was away
so much, but when she was home, she was my mother. Suddenly, I had
to share. The girl left often, but only for a day or two. She
always seemed upset when she came back and my mother would brush her
hair, telling her she'd be okay. I'd stand at my mother's bedroom
door, glaring at them, before going to my room to sulk.

One day, in the spring, I found her outside staring at the sidewalk
that was just paved. It was just wet cement, but she was studying
intensely, like it held some secret.

I said. "Why don't you go do something useful like dishes or laundry,
and start earning your keep, instead of standing out here like an
idiot watching cement dry?"

Ignoring me, she knelt down beside the sidewalk, and carefully wrote
her name in the pavement. When she was done she nodded to herself.
She seemed proud. I didn't see the big deal. So what if she knew
how to spell her name? I wanted to wreck it. What right did she
have etch her name in stone outside my house?

"You just wrecked our sidewalk." I said. "Did you stop and think
maybe my mother wouldn't want you to do that? Maybe now she'll send
you away."

She rolled her eyes at me. "Your mother loves you, you know. You're
lucky, I wish my mother loved me." She bit her lower lip, thought for
a moment, and added, "Maybe I don't have a mother."

After she went inside, I started to feel bad for the way I acted.
She was just some poor runaway whom my mom decided to show some
kindness too. I decided not to wreck her signature, but I added mine
underneath. If she was going to leave her mark, then I wanted to
leave mine too. It was, after all, my house.

She was gone the next day. I never saw her again.

Surprisingly, my father was more upset with her departure than my mom
was. He blamed my mother for the girl running away. He was furious
with her. Mom kept saying she was better off, over and over again,
until my father gave up and stormed off.

I was feeling guilty. I thought I was the reason she left. I was
the one who was mean to her. My father should have blamed me.

I went up to my mother. "I know it's not your fault mom. I should've
been nicer to her."

She touched my cheek, and smiled. "Don't cry honey. It wasn't your
fault. Besides, your father would have killed her anyway. "

--------

My father left two months later. Looking back, I can see there were
signs. My parents fought all the time. Mom was insistent that she
had been abducted. She also became paranoid that people were spying
on her. She went through seven housekeepers in six months,
completely destroying my record.

To this day I still don't know what happen when he left. I was at
summer school at the time and by the time I came home the damage had
already been done.

When I first entered the house, I thought we'd been robbed. All the
cupboards in the kitchen had been emptied on the floor. Light bulbs
were lying broken on the table, and all the chairs were overturned.

I was about to run to the neighbors for help when I heard my mom call
out.

"Who's there? Jeffrey, is that you?"

She came into the kitchen, and I knew something very bad had
happened. I thought she was attacked during the burglary. Her face
was stained with tears and mascara. Her blouse had black streaks on
bottom from using it as a handkerchief.

Before I could say anything she put her fingers to her lips, and
rushed to lock the door.

She peeked out the closed curtains, wringing her hands in the bottom
of blouse.

"Mom" I started

"Ssshhhh" she said, looking at my backpack.

She took it from me, dumped all it's contents on the floor, and
started rummaging through every book.

"Mom," I repeated. "What's going on?"

She looked up at me, startled, and went back into the living room.

The living room was as bad as the kitchen. The chairs and sofa were
turned over. Cushions lay unzipped on the floor with their insides
taken out. All the lamps had been broken. My mother was crouching
in the far left hand corner, unscrewing the plate off an electrical
socket.

She put her fingers in the socket. Not knowing she had tuned the
power off, I yelled

"Mom! Don't"

She gasped, brought her hand out, and yelled into it.

"If I'm so crazy then why are you bastards spying on me?"

I never figured out what she was yelling at. She immediately went to
the bathroom and flushed whatever it was, if it was anything, down
the toilet.

I didn't know what to do. As she was walking out of the bathroom, I
tried to talk to her again.

"Mom-"

"Sshhh. They're listening." She whispered, putting her fingers to her
lips. She knelt in front of me, and placed her hands on my shoulders
"Listen Jeffrey, I want you to go pack. Pack as much as you can.
We're going on a trip."

I didn't move. Who was listening? What happened? Who were they? And
then another question entered my mind. What would my father say when
he came home and saw this mess?

"Maybe we should clean up first, before dad gets home."

Her shoulders slumped. "Oh sweetie, he's not coming home. He left."

"When's he coming back?"

She paused, and ran her hand in my hair. "He's not coming back, he
left for good."

I didn't know what to say. I was never particularly close to my
father, but he was the one who took care of things. What was going to
happen to me the next time my mother disappeared?

"Don't cry honey. It's for the best. " She pointed back to the
electrical socket, and whispered. "He's one of them."

She got up, shook her head, and smiled. Instantly, she was the mom I
knew again.

"Go on sweetie. Go pack. We're going to have so much fun!"

----------------

She was right. We did have fun, and I am very grateful for that
trip. It was the last time my mother and I really enjoyed ourselves.

I didn't get any more information about what happened to my father,
or even where we were going, but mom did her best to keep us busy
enough that I wouldn't ask. We stopped everywhere: every tourist
site, every market, every ice-cream stand, everywhere.

If we found a spot we liked, we'd camp for days. There was no rush,
no place we had to be, we'd just enjoy ourselves until we wanted to
go. There was also a huge difference in my mother. She had more
life in her. She laughed all the time. We both did. Her energy was
back, she was back. It was just my mom and I, having a blast
traveling the highway. It was great. I wanted it to never end.

But it did end.

Our last night camping, we arrived in Nevada. I woke up in the night,
and saw my mom was not in the tent. Thinking she had disappeared
again, I panicked. I was in the middle of nowhere, with no money,
and no one around. All I had was a full tank of gas in a car I was
too young to drive.

I grabbed the flashlight, and rushed out of the tent screaming her
name over and over again. I couldn't see her anywhere, but I kept
screaming.

After what seemed like hours, but was probably only several seconds,
she called back.

"Over here Jeffrey."

I ran towards the voice and found her, over a small hill. She was
sitting on the ground, with her hands holding her knees against her
chest, staring at the stars. She didn't look up at me. She just kept
staring at the stars, as if in a trance.

"They're out there you know. Watching us."

My entire body was still shaking, I could her my heart pounding
loudly in my ears, and my face was drenched in both sweat and tears.

"I was scared you left again. I thought I'd end up stranded out here
alone."

She looked up at me. "Oh." She let go of her legs and held her arm
out to me. "Oh, Jeffrey, I'm sorry. Come here."

I sat down beside her, and she put her arm around me. I'd avoided
asking her any questions about my father and how she always left, not
wanting to ruin the perfect vacation we were having, but the spell
had already been broken.

"Mom?"

"Yes"

"What's going to happen, next time you leave? Will I be by myself?"

She squeezed my shoulder. "Don't cry honey. Tomorrow were going to a
place where there are a lot of nice people. I'll make sure there's
someone to watch over you no matter what happens."

That's not what I wanted to hear. I wanted her to tell me she wasn't
going to leave anymore, even if it was a lie, but she didn't say
that. We just sat there together and watched the sunrise.

------------

The next day we arrived on a large ranch, with 4 buildings on the
property, and just like mom said, there were a lot of people.

Apparently, she had been writing to these people for a long time.
All of them believed, like my mother, that aliens had taken them
away. They greeted us like we were long lost relatives. There must
have been at least thirty of them living there. Everyone came to
greet us and give us each a hug, some even tried to kiss me on the
cheek. It was awful.

I stood stiff while each one put their arms around me, and said,
"Welcome home"

Home? That wasn't my home, and those people weren't my family.
Before the end of the hugging ceremony, I was wishing we were back on
the road

My mother, on the other hand, was thoroughly enjoying herself. She
spent several minutes with each greeter, learning their names, and
finding out where they were from. Say what you want about my mother,
but she has a gift with people that I often wish I'd inherited.
Several seconds after saying hello, every person that greeted her was
talking to her like an old friend.

After the introductions we were led to our room. Mom and I had to
share one because of limited space, but because of my age, we were
placed in the main house. It was very small. There was only enough
room for two single beds and a dresser.

Once we were left to unpack, my mother smiled at me and asked. "Well,
what do you think?"

I sat down on the bed, and said nothing. She seemed so happy, I
didn't know how to tell her the place gave me the creeps.

My silence provided the answer for her. She sat down beside me.

"I know it's an adjustment Jeffrey, but these are all good people.
I'm sure in a few days this place will feel like home, if you give it
a chance."

A few days passed, and then a few weeks, and, even though people went
out of their way to be nice to me, it still didn't feel like home.
Every day I'd go with my mother to these group sessions, where people
would talk about aliens. Everyone there had a story to tell about his
or her abduction, and everyone there felt blessed that they were
chosen. That is, everyone there but me.

Not only was I the only kid there, I was the only one who hadn't been
abducted. I'll admit that I have trouble fitting in with large
groups of people. It's not a talent I possess, but to this day I have
never felt as out of place as I did during those first few weeks at
the ranch.

Then, something happened that changed all that. I had made friends
with a man named Wayne Power. Wayne joined the group two years
earlier, after his wife took his son and left him. Since I was the
same age as his child, and I had recently lost my father, we both
filled a void for the other person, and just like my father, I place
a lot of blame for what happened next on his shoulders.

The main building had stairs outside the back door that led to a flat
rooftop. Group sessions were sometimes held up there, but it's main
purpose was to allow members to meditate in the evening underneath
the stars. Somehow it was suppose to bring them closer to the aliens.
Wayne and I would go up there often, and one night I asked him how
the aliens decided who'd be taken.

He gave me a long answer, that basically said he had no idea, but at
the end he told me it was hard to do a study to find commonalty among
abductees because only some retain any memory, while others have no
idea what happened to them

And there it was, the answer to my problem. Maybe I was just like
everyone else.

I asked my mom about it later. We were both in bed, and it became
routine for us to talk to each other about our day, before we went to
sleep.

At first she seemed angry that I would even mention it, but seeing
how upset I got after, she relented and said she'd see if they could
bring someone in to evaluate me.

Two weeks later, I saw the good Doctor. It was mid September but my
mother showed no interest in sending me to school. By then we had
been there for over a month, and every day I was subjected to
abduction tales of over thirty people. I don't know if it was my
age, or my vulnerability at the changes that had happened over the
past few months, but by the time the Doctor showed up, I truly
believed I was abducted. That I was just like every one else.

I believed it so intensely that when I was hypnotized, I relived an
abduction that I never had. I was terrified by the time the
evaluation was over.

My mother was there, she held my hand and said. "Don't cry honey,
it's scary at first, but the aliens are doing this to help humanity,
you should feel blessed that you were chosen too."

-----

I still wasn't completely happy there, but I no longer felt out of
place. For the next month we stayed there, at least, I think it was a
month. There were no clocks or calendars in the place, and after a
while you lost all track of time. My birthday came and went without
any celebration. I didn't even know it passed.

Day after the day of the same routine, nothing new happened until one
day in early October when everything changed.

My mother had been distant for several days. I thought it was
because of the weather. It had been raining for days, and everyone
was feeling the effects, but that wasn't it. During the evening
group session she announced to everyone that she felt like she was
being called.

Everyone gathered around her, offering their encouragement, and
reassurances that they'd take of everything for her. I left the
session unnoticed and went to our room. She was going to leave me
again. I'd be alone with these people. It wasn't fair. I wanted to
go back down and scream at all of them. If they really wanted to
help, then they'd help her stay. She had a son, they didn't. Why
couldn't one of them go instead?

The rain had turned into a storm, and lightening flashed outside my
window. At first I thought it was a ship. I started to panic,
certain that they'd take her that night.

What I did next was foolish. Even after all these years I haven't
completely forgiven myself for it. Determined to find a way to
prevent her from leaving, I left my room and went to the place I was
told brought us closer to the aliens.

I sat on the roof. It was dark and wet, and although I didn't fully
grasp the dangers of sitting on a rooftop in the middle of a
lightening storm, I don't think it would have matter if I did. I was
determined to stay there. I never meditated like the others, but I
saw them do it and tried to copy them. Sitting crossed legged, I
closed my eyes and concentrated on communicating with the aliens.

I don't know how long I sat, but my clothes were drenched by the time
I hear my mother.

"Jeffrey!"

I opened my eyes, and saw her figure standing at the top of the
stairs.

"Come here Jeffrey." She yelled. "It's not safe, there!"

I went over to where she was standing.

"I need to stay up here mom, so when they come I can convince them
not to take you."

Lightening flashed and she looked up worried. "I'm sorry, Jeffrey. I
shouldn't have said that in the group without telling you first, but
you can't stay up here. It's not safe with the lightening."

"No. I can't leave. What if they come while I'm inside?"

"I know it's hard for you honey, but we can talk inside. I'll make us
some hot chocolate." She said, as if that would make everything
better."

But she didn't know how hard it was for me. How could she know and
still be okay leaving me.

"No." I said and pulled away from her. "I don't want hot chocolate.
That won't help. What I want is for you to stay. I want a mother who
isn't going to leave me with a bunch of strangers."

"Jeffrey, it's not like I have a choice."

"But you seem pretty happy about it. You're blessed right? How is
that being blessed?"

"I'm needed up there Jef--"

"You're needed here!" I yelled. "You're my mom, and I need you here,
but you never stay! Why? Why mom? I thought children were supposed
to be the most important thing to parents, but I'm not with you!
I've never been the most important with you! If I was, you wouldn't
abandon me all the time!"

I regretted my words as soon as they came out of my mouth. My mother
said nothing. Her hand was covering her mouth, and she wouldn't look
at me. I think she was crying, but there wasn't enough light to be
sure.

"I'm sorry mom. Please, just let me stay up here?"

She wiped here eyes. "Jeffrey you can't in this storm you could be
hurt even killed. I know I haven't been the best mother, but it was
never because you weren't important. I never chose to leave you. I
never had any control over what happened to me at all. If I haven't
been a good a mother it's not because I don't care. It's because I'm
not sure how to be one. I missed so much time when you were little,
and so many memories were taken from me, that I feel like I'm
starting from scratch every time I come back. I know it's not
fair. Every time I look at you, I think of how unfair it was, and
that's why this is important to me honey, because I need to know why.
I need to know that there is a reason for losing all that time."

"It doesn't matter why, mom. It only matters that you leave. Don't go
this time. "

"If it were that easy, I wouldn't go, but I don't have a choice when
they come for me.

"Then we can leave. Lets just go. It will be like the summer. They
can't take you if they don't find you here, right?"

"I can't Jeffrey. They'll find me. At least here, I know you won't
be left alone. Please Jeffrey believe me, if there was I way, I do
it, but there's not. I know it's not fair, and I know you're upset,
but we can at least try to enjoy the time we have, okay? Come
inside."

She grabbed my arm, and started to pull me towards the stairs, but I
wasn't ready to give up. I started to pull back. "Then, if I can't
convince them to let you stay, I have to convince them to take me
too."

Lightening flashed again. She pulled harder. "Jeffrey, no! We have
to go in now!"

I didn't mean to push back so hard. I just wanted her to let go, but
it was slippery and when I pushed her away to free myself, she fell
back. Down the stairs I heard her scream, until she lay unconscious
at the bottom.

------

My mother never walked again after that night. The damage to her
spine crippled her from the waist down.

The "family" we had been a part of, at least had enough decency to
get us to a hospital, but they disappeared as soon as they dropped us
off. I don't know if my mother ever saw any of them again. I never
did.

My mother was unconscious for two days. Although it was a week
before I was allowed to see her. A worker from child services came to
interview me the night she was admitted. After talking to me for a
few minutes that one worker turned into five.

When I was finally allowed a supervised visit, she'd been moved to
the psychiatric ward. I told myself I wouldn't cry, but the sight of
her sitting in her wheelchair, staring out the window, brought the
tears immediately.

She tried to smile when she saw me, but seeing the chaperone stifled
it.

All I could say was, "I'm sorry mom." Over and over I kept telling
her I was sorry, until she was crying too.

"Don't cry honey. It's not your fault."

"Yes it is. I'm sorry."

She grabbed my hands and pulled me down, looking me in the eyes.
"Listen Jeffrey, It's not your fault. Whatever happens, understand
that. It's not your fault."

"I just didn't want them to take you without me. I'm so sorry."

The supervisor coughed.

My mother looked up at him and back to me. "We're not allowed to
talked about that anymore. Okay? Now listen to me Jeffrey. I have
to stay here for a while. You're going to stay with another family,
but they said you can visit." She looked up at the chaperone.
"Right?"

"As long as you stay committed to getting better Mrs. Spender. You
can see your son."

I started to cry all over again.

"It'll be okay Jeffrey, and remember it's not your fault. None of
this is your fault okay?"

My mother never regained custody of me. I stayed with several foster
families for the rest of my childhood. Each one found me difficult
to take care of. It took months to convince me that there were no
Aliens or UFOs. Eventually I accepted that none of it was real. My
mother was sick and made it all up. It wasn't her fault. Mental
illness is a disease, just like any other. The counselors told me I
should be grateful she found her way back to me all those times. .

Although it took less than a year to accept that there were no such
things as UFOs, it took much longer to accept that I wasn't to blame
for what happened. I was the one who caused her to fall down those
stairs. I still live with it to this day, but gradually, I accepted
that others were to share in the blame.

I was just a kid, powerless in the situations handed to me. It was
the adults who should be blamed the most. Adults like my father, who
left instead of getting my mother the help she needed. Adults like
Dr. Weber who made things worse by feeding our delusions instead of
helping us get back to reality.

And adults like Fox Mulder.

My mother had gotten better over time. There was no talk of UFOs for
years until she read about Fox Mulder.

FBI agents are supposed to deal in facts. It's what drew me to the
profession, but Agent Mulder has no regard for those things. Instead
he's still chasing his dreams, without any concern for the lives
destroyed in the process, but I know better. I know I won't find my
mother flying around on some ship, and it's not easy, but I know that
I'm more likely to find her in a morgue, than anywhere else.

They can think what they want. They can cast their dirty looks, and
whisper behind my back. Somewhere, there could be a kid just like
me, being fed garbage by these freaks, who think they're helping by
feeding sick peoples fantasies, and if I can help put a stop to it,
I'll do whatever it takes.

End

Notes: I never liked how Jeffrey was treated at the beginning. When
I switch viewpoints and look at his reactions as a non-believer, his
reactions to Mulder appeared normal to me, and I wanted to write a
backstory demonstrating that. Some of the things revealed at the end
of the series goes against what I have written, but I could't resolve
the timeline and keep the story so I left it as is.

Feedback, including criticism is welcome and responded to at
[email protected]

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