Title: My Father's Eyes
Author: Elizabeth L. Iacono
Rating: PG
Category: Story, Angst
Keywords:
Spoilers: Pilot, Requiem
Summary: There are a lot of things Drew Skinner 
doesn't know about his family. He's about to find 
one of them out. Sequel to 'My Father's Son'

Note: In this universe, This Is Not Happening and 
anything after that never happened. No burial 
for Mulder in this alternate universe.

Note two: It is a must to have read 'My Father's Son'
before this piece, otherwise there is a good chance 
you will be very lost.

Archiving: I'll send to Gossamer, Spookys, and 
Ephemeral. Touchstone, Legacy, KTF can all have 
it. Anyone else, please ask first.

Feedback: Is loved. Send it to RhiaRamsay@aol.com

Disclaimer: Technically, none of the characters in 
here belong to me except Paulie and Logan. 
CC conceived the rest of them.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

My Father's Eyes
Elizabeth L. Iacono


"We've got to tell him."

"I know, but how?"

The day you hear your parents talking like it's 
never a good thing. I went upstairs to ask for 
the keys to the car (it was my turn to pick up 
the pizza for dinner) and I heard them talking 
like that. It's a goddamn frightening thing, and 
I really didn't want to hear it anymore.

I stepped into the doorway of their room and saw 
them sitting on the bed. The noise immediately 
shut them up. Both of them looked really 
uncomfortable; Dad was shifting around and 
Mom was wringing her hands together. Come to 
think of it, I wasn't feeling too comfortable 
either. "Uh, if you want me to get the pizza," 
I finally blurted out, "I need the car keys."

Dad sighed heavily and dug into his pocket. 
A few seconds later he pulled the keys out 
and tossed them to me. "Here you go, Drew."

I caught them before they hit the doorframe 
(Dad's aim has never really been that good. 
Let's just say that it was mom out there 
teaching me to play baseball) and I left. 
The tension in there was awful.

All the way to the pizza place I forced myself 
not to think about it. Which means, of course, 
that it was in my head like a big red button 
begging 'push me'. But I refused to think about 
it. By the time I got home things looked like 
they were actually back to normal, so I just 
pushed the awkward conversation out of my mind.

Soon as I went to bed that night however every 
little thought came rushing back. What did they 
have to tell me? Why didn't they know how to 
tell me this bit of news? How long have they 
been putting whatever it is off? And what about...

I pulled the pillow over my head and tried to go 
to sleep. Did I sleep? Like a baby.

And if you believe that there's a bridge in Brooklyn 
I'd love to sell you.

The next day I dragged myself to school looking 
and feeling like the living dead. In first period 
I arranged my books into a nice pillow and laid 
down to go to sleep. I was too damn tired to 
think anymore. The sound of fists banging on my 
desk pulled me out of my almost asleep stupor. 
I looked up and saw glitter covered nails, scarred 
white arms that were covered in bangles and pushed 
back sleeves, all leading to the blue eyes of one 
very pissed off sixteen-year-old girl. I groaned 
and buried my head in my arms.

"You looked like hell on the bus, and now you're 
falling asleep and looking like hell here? 
What's up?" she berated me.

"You have no tact, do you?" I sighed into my 
books. Let me tell you a little bit about 
Eva-Pauline Morgana. She's weird. But she's 
one of my closest friends (and I've had my own 
strange bits so who am I to judge?). "I'll tell 
you at lunch," I mumbled. "Just be sure to 
wake me up at the bell and guide me to the next class."

"Ohh-kay." I could practically feel her dubious 
glare as she sat down in the desk behind me. 
I closed my eyes and drifted off into 
that strangely satisfying school time sleep.

The next thing I knew I felt something gliding 
across the back of my neck. I slapped at it and 
shook my head to wake it. I turned around and 
saw Paulie grinning at me, twirling a pen in her 
hands. Reaching around my neck, I swiped at the 
inevitable doodles there. "Mornin' sunshine."

"Is class over?" I sighed, rubbing my eyes.

"Fifth period is over. You've pretty much 
sleepwalked through the first half of the day," 
Paulie smirked, and looked around the room. My 
eyes followed hers, and I saw that the rest of 
the class had cleared out, with the teacher shooting 
us dirty looks. "So let's get out of here, Spooky, 
so we can eat lunch and you can tell me why you 
look so shitty."

I just groaned and pushed my hair out of my face. 
We waded through the crowded halls of Alexandria 
H.S., and shuffled into the lunch line, picking 
only the pre-wrapped/bagged items with regards 
for our health. I chose a table by the windows 
looking for privacy. My paranoia didn't want 
anyone else getting wind of this. The lunch 
tables were small squares with seating for four, 
and we propped our feet upon the other chairs to 
discourage anyone looking for a seat.

Paulie ripped open a bag of Doritos and I reached 
for a pack of Twinkies. Paulie grimaced. "Those 
things are probably older than your mother." 
I gave her a shark-like, toothy grin, and 
took a big bite out of it. She winced again 
and delicately picked at her Doritos.

When I had finished the first Twinkie I realized 
that I couldn't stall anymore. "All right. 
You really want to know what's had me looking so 
terrible?"

"Yeah," Paulie nodded.

"Okay." I took a deep breath and leaned back 
in my chair. "You're probably going to laugh."

"Spill it!"

"All right! Yesterday I overheard my parents 
saying 'We've got to tell him' and 'I know, but 
how?'." I rubbed my eyes. "It sounds really 
lame now that I'm thinking about it."

"How do you know they were even referring to 
you?" Paulie popped another Dorito into her mouth.

"I don't. That's why I feel like such a moron 
now." I banged my head on the tabletop. "God, 
why the hell did I make such a big deal out of this?"

Paulie reached over and ruffled my hair. 
Dad's been begging me to get it cut but I like 
the longer look. If your hair's covering your 
eyes the teachers can't tell if you're not 
paying attention to them. "Because it does 
sound serious. Even if it doesn't have anything to 
do with you it still sounds like something pretty 
damn major. I don't blame you for freaking out, 
I would have done the exact same thing."

"I'm only human, right?" I smirked. 

"Exactly." she grinned back. "So what do you 
think they were talking about?"

I shrugged. "Not a clue. It's probably something 
mundane, like how we're not going to go on vacation 
this year. Or how I won't be able to get a car 
this summer."

I looked up at Paulie and saw the spaced out look 
on her face. "Maybe what they have to tell you is 
that you're destined to save the world someday."

I threw the Twinkie wrapper at her head. "Now 
you're being silly."

She shrugged her shoulders. "You never know. 
Hey, you want me to do some checking for you? 
My mom does work for the government after all."

At that line I couldn't help but laugh. "Your 
mom works for the State records department. 
That's hardly the government."

"This coming from the kid of the G-man, the expert 
on all governmental matters." She heaved the 
wrapper back in my direction, although her aim 
was faulty and she missed by a mile. "And you 
never know, sometimes you can find some interesting 
things in those records."

I shook my head disbelievingly. Paulie could be 
one persistent bitch if she wanted to. "Fine. 
If you want to look, go right ahead. I'll tell 
you now though you're not going to find anything."

Another Dorito made its way into her mouth, and 
she arched a silver mascara painted eyebrow. 
"Says you."
 
 * * *

School finally let out, but that didn't mean that 
the bus was on time. That bus is never on time, so 
as is tradition my friends and I were slouched against 
the brick side of the school building waiting for 
it to grace us with its presence. It's almost funny 
to see how the little cliques separate themselves even 
out here. But not that funny when you and your 
friends are the ones who are getting ragged on. 
You'd think that people would appreciate a little 
originality now and then, but they never really change.

Ten minutes later the bus still hadn't shown (which 
still wasn't any big surprise). I suddenly got the 
strange feeling that someone was watching me. I looked 
around at the milling crowd to see if I could spot any 
staring eyes, but no luck. The kid next to me, Logan 
(who's a pretty good friend) was busy puffing away on 
his cigarette and Paulie had her head buried in a book. 
It was only when I looked across the street that I 
found something.

Standing on the sidewalk across the street was a 
man--tall, dark haired, dressed in black. He seemed 
about my mother's age and his eyes were focused right 
on me. Those eyes were strange though, full of 
shifting colors. There was something about him that I 
couldn't place...

Finally (and for once, at the worst possible time) 
the bus pulled up to the curb, effectively cutting 
off my view of the man. Ignoring the aggravated 
howls of the other kids, I pushed my way onto the 
bus and darted over to the other side of the bus. 
I stuck my head out the first open window I came 
to, searching for the man in black. But, of course, 
he wasn't there anymore. I collapsed into the seat, 
wondering what the hell was going on and if I was 
just going crazy.

Paulie thudded down on the seat next to me. "Are 
you okay?" she asked me, giving me a worried look.

"Yeah," I sighed, looking out the window again.

When I got home, I didn't think things could get any 
worse. Naturally, someone had to throw a monkey 
wrench into the works.

I dumped my bags by the front door and wandered into 
the kitchen, looking for something to make up for the 
void known as school lunch. To my surprise Mom and 
Dad were sitting at the table in there, staring at 
me like I'd done something really wrong.

"What'd I do?" I blurted out. I should have known 
from that first look that something was very wrong. 
Dad never comes home this early. Never. He's so 
close to retirement age in a job he really doesn't 
want to give up so he doesn't do things to piss off 
upper management.

Mom shook her head. "No, you didn't do anything 
wrong. Sit down, Drew." Mutely, I thudded down 
in a seat across from them. Mom took a deep breath, 
and I felt my stomach twist. On TV shows and the like 
they always take a deep breath before delivering the 
bombshell.

I braced myself for ground zero.

"Drew, your father and I are getting a divorce."

The news hit me like someone dropped an anvil on my 
head. I sat there for a minute, my mouth moving 
silently like a fish gasping for air. My parents 
stared at me with these nervous looks on their 
faces. "Wha...why?" was all I could finally say.

They traded a look and I could tell they were 
trying to figure out how to tell me this story. 
Finally Mom turned her blue-eyed gaze back on me. 
"Your father and I haven't been in love for a long, 
long time. At one time we were, but people change. 
Your dad is still one of my best friends, but 
that's all we are anymore."

"But can't you be married friends?" I said 
irrationally. Deep down I knew that there was no 
way to change their minds, but the one part 
of me that didn't want to believe kept talking.

"That's what we have been for the past few years," 
Dad put in. "Also..." he cleared his throat uneasily 
and I gulped. 'It's gonna get worse, isn't it?' 
I thought.

I was right.

"Also, there's a woman--"

Oh, God.

"--my ex-wife actually--"

What? This time I couldn't keep the surprised look 
off my face. I never knew he was married before. 
Yeah, he's old enough, but still! He's my dad, 
I'm supposed to know these things about him.

"--and I'd like to try for a reconciliation with her."

That was the last straw. "I'm going for a run," 
I mumbled, and pushed myself away from the table. 
I ran upstairs to toss some running gear on. I'm 
actually surprised I had the mental clarity 
to do that much. As I was bending over to tie my 
sneakers Mom appeared in the doorway.

"Drew," she started, but I didn't want to hear it.

"Not now, Mom." I finished with the knots and stood, 
tugging at the waistband of my jogging shorts. 
"I'm going to go for a run, just to think things 
through, to clear my head."

I saw her sigh heavily and tilt her head back 
against the wooden molding. "God, you are so 
much like your father."

"Well seeing as you're not too fond of him at 
the moment I'm not sure that's a good thing."

Mom's face grew stony at that. "It's not a crime 
to be like your father. He is a good man."

I shook my head again, at a loss for words once 
more. "Whatever. I'm going out now. Don't wait 
up for me." I stormed down the stairs and out the 
door to pound the pavement and exorcise my demons. 
I'll spare you the details of my tour of Alexandria, 
but I'll tell you that I had a few realizations.

1. I never saw this one coming at all.

2. There was pretty much no chance of them getting 
back together at all.

3. Life was going to be a lot different from now on.

Another sleepless night later I was back in school. 
Homeroom hadn't even started and I knew that I 
wouldn't be able to make it through the day. 
I had a plan too to get out of there. Paulie 
wasn't on the bus that morning, which meant that she 
was lucky enough to be in possession of a car for 
the day--the perfect escape. I fidgeted in my seat, 
feeling energized even after not sleeping. I think 
it was the energy that happens when you've passed 
the point of tiredness and are fast approaching 
delirious.

Finally, after interminable minutes (in reality I 
think it was about four minutes) I saw Paulie out 
in the hallway. Just as she was about to walk 
into homeroom I literally leapt out of my seat, 
grabbed my bag, ran towards her, and steered her 
back out into the hallway. All the while she was 
giving me one of her 'what the bloody fuck are 
you doing?' looks. Basically I pushed her out 
of the room and down two flights of stairs to 
the back of the school building, the place commonly 
known as the smoker's haven. The surveillance 
cameras have been long broken back here and the 
security guards rarely troll back there so it's 
a safe place for those of that persuasion. 

Logan was out there, sucking down one last smoke 
before having to put up with the hell known as high 
school. I walked over to him with my hand held 
out and said "Give me two cigarettes." The look 
he gave me was an odd one, but he pulled two from the 
nearly full pack and tossed them to me complete with 
a lighter. I handed one of the smokes to Paulie, 
who accepted it with a doubtful look.

"Okay, what is going on with you?" she said, 
twirling the cigarette in her metallic blue 
nailed fingers.

I paused to light my cigarette before answering 
her. To be honest I didn't need the nicotine 
rush then, but I was out of sunflower seeds and 
needed something to suck on. "You'll understand 
when I tell you." I held the lighter out to her, 
and the flame jumped around in the wind.

She leaned forward with the cigarette hanging 
from her lips. "So tell me," she mumbled as the 
flame lit the paper wrapping. I waited until she 
had taken the first drag to tell my story.

"All right. You remember what we talked about at 
lunch yesterday?"

Paulie nodded, crossing her arms over her chest 
and being careful not to burn herself on the smoke. 
"Yeah, about what you overheard your parents talking 
about." Her eyes widened. "You mean you found 
out?"

"Uh-huh. They're getting divorced," I sighed in a 
deadpan voice.

"What?" she gaped. "They're...if anything your 
parents are the ones who I thought would actually 
make it to the whole 'to death do us part' thing. 
All the times I've seen them they still looked like 
the happy couple."

I took another drag. "Apparently they've fallen 
out of love, and are just friends now," I said 
sarcastically, exhaling the smoke in a plume out 
my nose.

"I can't believe it," Paulie sighed.

"You can't? You should have seen me yesterday. 
But here's the real kicker: my dad wants to try 
for a reconciliation with his ex-wife."

The gape was back. "He was married before?"

I nodded. "I didn't know that either until yesterday. 
I guess it's just one of the many things they haven't 
told me."

Our conversation was interrupted by the sound of the 
bell ringing, which was loud enough to carry from 
inside. I groaned, knowing that we had to bolt 
soon lest we get caught by the security's first patrol 
(they always make at least one patrol right after the 
first bell). Amidst the flood of people I felt a tap 
on my shoulder, and I turned around to see Logan 
there. He handed me the pack of cigarettes, and 
said, "You look like you could use these. Believe 
me, I went through the same thing when my parents 
split up."

"Thanks," I mumbled, stuffing them into my pants 
pocket. I turned back to Paulie. "Look, I know 
I'm not going to be able to make it through the 
day. You want to just ditch?"

"Fine with me," she replied, a stream of smoke oozing 
out of her mouth. "You need the moral support 
anyway." I was about to object, but a well placed 
arched eyebrow (something I'm damn sure she picked 
up from my mother) halted the words before they left 
my mouth.

We hurried over to the car, wanting to leave before 
anyone started patrolling the parking lot (because 
if they caught it trying to bust out of there we 
would have been in a shitload of trouble). "Can I 
drive?" I asked. That question earned a doubtful 
look, and I hastened to explain. "Look, I need 
control over something in my life right now, even 
if it's as minute as that."

She paused for a moment, standing by the trunk of 
her car that was easily older than the both of us 
combined. I almost thought I was sunk, when she 
suddenly tossed the keys at me. As I caught them 
with a look of surprise painted across my face, 
she said, "You wreck my car, and I kill you slowly. 
With my bare hands."

"This car is a walking scrap heap already," I mumbled 
as I unlocked the car and. We loaded ourselves in 
to it and got the hell out of there.

 * * *

End Part One

 * * *

We drove for a couple of hours, ending up in some 
small abandoned park on the Maryland coast. 
The chances of our parents finding us here were 
astronomically low.

Paulie pulled the car up onto a patch of grass that 
had a direct view of the beach. I practically jumped 
out of the car and scrambled onto the hood, ignoring 
how the heat from the engine burned through my jeans. 
I slouched back against the glass and closed my eyes, 
letting the early fall sun bake into my skin.

I felt the car sink slightly as Paulie climbed 
onto the hood next to me, and her side pressed up 
against mine. "You okay?" she asked softly.

That one I couldn't help but laugh at, and I opened 
my eyes to look at her. For just a moment I was 
struck by how really beautiful I found her. The 
way her dark brown hair was slipping out of their 
pigtails and blew around in the wind, to her blue 
eyes with the silver painted eyebrows and her 
raspberry painted lips. But I shook my head and 
got over it. "I'm as well as can be expected, I 
think. I've pretty much accepted that there's no 
chance of a reconciliation, no chance of them 
getting back together."

I paused to cross my arms over my stomach. "My dad 
made this comment last night, about how he and my 
mom have just been friends for the past few years. 
It makes me wonder 'Why didn't I see this coming?' 
Am I that out of touch with my parents that I can't 
even tell if they're in love anymore?" I sighed. 
"But they're still friends. I guess that's a good 
thing, that they still like each other that 
way."

"Yeah, it is," Paulie agreed, nodding. "I remember 
when Logan's parents got divorced. Damn, that 
was a bitter fight. They couldn't even stand to 
be in the same room with each other. Are you sure 
you're okay?" she persisted.

"I'm fine," I replied as I lit the last cigarette. 
I normally don't smoke this much (usually I don't 
smoke at all) but the vice was comforting.

"Good," Paulie sighed, picking at the frayed edge 
of a hole in her jeans. She pulled her backpack 
onto her legs and fiddled with the zipper in that 
nervous way she has.

"What is it?" I asked, bumping my hip against hers.

She bit that raspberry stained lip of hers and 
glanced sideways at me. "Remember what I said 
yesterday? About how I would do some research 
in the public records where my mom works? Well, 
I did." She unzipped her backpack and pulled 
out a folder. "And, I found some things."

I sat up straighter and pressed myself even closer 
against her. "What did you find?" I reached for 
the folder, but she stopped me with a claw-like 
grip around my wrist. "Hey!" I protested.

Her clutch tightened. "Drew, you have to promise 
me you won't overreact. I looked over these things 
last night and what's in here is pretty fucking big. 
And unless I know you're not going to throw yourself 
in the ocean after you see this, I won't give 
it to you."

I blinked a few times, trying to understand just 
what was going on and not quite getting there. 
But I unlatched the hand that was clamped around 
my wrist and I tangled her fingers with mine. It 
was an odd picture, my slightly tanned fingers mixed 
in with her pale, metallic blue tipped ones. 
"I promise," I said, and Paulie silently handed me 
the folder.

I dropped the folder on my lap and flipped it open 
with my free hand. I brought my knees up to keep 
the photocopies inside from blowing away.

The first page on top was a marriage certificate, 
for my mom and dad. 'Certificate of Marriage-Walter 
S. Skinner and Dana K. Scully, July 18, 2006, 
Alexandria, Virginia...."

"They didn't get married until I was five," 
I murmured. It didn't ring right with me. 
My parents are both fairly traditional people. 
I'd always thought it would be marriage first, 
child second. It suddenly registered with me 
that I didn't know until that moment when my 
parents had been married let alone for how many 
years they'd been married.

"Does it get worse?" I asked, not taking my eyes 
off the paper.

"Yeah," Paulie murmured, and without stopping to 
think about it I flipped to the next page.

This page held some more recognizable elements: It 
was my birth certificate. 'Name-Andrew Fox Mulder...'

Wait a minute.

Mulder?

Something was very wrong here.

But, like a car accident, I couldn't tear my eyes 
away from it and kept reading.

'Name-Andrew Fox Mulder
Date of Birth-February 13, 2001
Location-Washington D.C.
Mother's name-Dana Katherine Scully
Father's name-Fox William Mulder'

I think my brain froze up at that point. I managed 
to close the folder and fall back against the 
windshield. For a long while I stared out at the 
ocean, and all that I managed to think was that 
everything I thought I knew was different from 
what really was.

Paulie began to stroke my hair out of my face, and 
my eyes shifted to her. She had the most sympathetic 
and sad look on her face. I'd never seen anything 
like it before. "Are you all right?" she whispered, 
stroking her knuckles down the side of my face.

"Who am I?" I replied, not really knowing the answer 
to that anymore.

"You're still Drew. You're still my best friend." 
She leaned down and pressed against my side, wrapping 
her left arm around my stomach. I responded by 
wrapping my left arm around her back, letting her rest 
her head on my shoulder.

"I have to talk to my mom about this." I sighed. 
"I don't want to talk to her about this."

"Do you think this was one of the things your parents 
were going to tell you when they said 'we have to 
tell him'?" Paulie questioned.

"I don't know," I said, and I really didn't. I had 
no doubt that Dad probably knew he wasn't my real 
father. I'm guessing that when he met my mom I was 
already born and this Fox Mulder guy, whoever he is, 
was already out of the picture. My hand found the 
empty cigarette box, and I crumpled it out of 
frustration. And I really needed something to drown 
in for a little while. "Do you have anything stronger 
than this?" I asked, tossing the crumpled box in 
Paulie's direction.

She didn't say a word, just reached into her backpack 
and came back with two joints. I looked around to 
make sure no one was there (getting arrested for 
possession would be the fucking perfect way to top 
off this week) and took one. I stuffed it into my 
mouth and took a long hit off of it.

Paulie took the joint from my hand and took her own 
hit as I waited for the first signs of the buzz to 
kick in. I felt her exhale wisps of smoke against 
my neck an I shut my eyes, wishing I could shut my 
brain off the same way.

 * * *

Around 5:30 that afternoon I stumbled into my house, 
still stoned and reeking of pot smoke. We'd stopped 
smoking a while ago, knowing that we'd have to get 
home somehow. The high was still there though, and 
it took us longer than anticipated to get back to 
Alexandria. Right then, all I wanted to do was get 
rid of the cotton mouth, sleep, and not even think 
of the file that was now residing in my backpack.

I started to make it back to my room, but Mom's voice 
stopped me as I passed by hers.

"Drew, can you come in here?" she asked, and I 
hesitated. I wasn't in a very good state at the 
moment, and I didn't need to deal with any parental 
shit. But mom was nothing if not persistent. 
""I don't care what you've been doing, just please 
come in here."

Resigning myself to my fate, I poked my glassy-eyed 
face around the corner of the door, not wanting to 
go any further. To my surprise Mom smiled reassuringly 
at me and said, "I don't care what you've been doing. 
Today, you won't get in trouble for it." She patted 
the bed next to her, so I shrugged and shuffled my way 
over.

I sat down next to her, climbing across the vast 
expanse of their king sized bed. I remembered when 
they got this bed a few years back. Now I couldn't 
help but wonder if they got this big bed just so 
they wouldn't have to touch each other in the night. 
I slumped against the pillows propped up against 
the headboard.

Mom shot me a familiar arched eyebrow. "You better 
shower before Dad comes home or you'll really catch 
hell for smelling like that," Mom said.

"Why aren't you giving me hell about it?" I countered.

"Because I know that you're having a few very bad 
days and you need to escape somehow." Damn, Mom 
was good. Maybe she was a psychologist in a past 
life. "Besides, there's something else I have to 
tell you," she continued, turning her gaze down to 
the mattress.

I should have kept my mouth shut. I REALLY should 
have. But the weed had loosened my tongue and I 
blurted out, "I think I know what it is." Mom's 
gaze focused on me and I realized I had said it out 
loud. I winced and then reached into my backpack 
which had made it onto the bed with me. "I had Paulie 
do some research for me," I sighed, and handed her 
the folder.

Mom looked at the two photocopied papers in there, 
and I watched as her eyes widened, I guess with 
recognition. "So who is my father?" I asked softly.

Her eyes remained focused on the papers, but she 
said, "Your birth certificate is correct. Your 
father is Fox Mulder."

"But who is Fox Mulder?" I persisted.

At that, Mom actually smiled and reclined on the 
pillows next to me. "You really ask the hard 
questions, don't you?" I gave her a look of my 
own and she shrugged. "Okay. Fox Mulder was the 
most complicated man I'd ever known. He was 
brilliant, went to Oxford for college. He was 
flawed too. He could be obsessive. His sister 
was abducted when she was eight and he spent many, 
many years looking for her. He had a good soul 
too. He was so empathetic to people it was 
almost...spooky," she said with a grin.

Okay, I admit, I was entranced. I wanted to hear 
more about the man who made my mom look like this, 
like she was more in love than she ever was with 
my dad. "How did you meet?"

Mom smiled again. "Now that's an interesting 
story. In 1993 I was assigned to a department 
called The X-Files, Mulder's pet project at the 
FBI. He was an agent also." Deep down I had 
remembered Mom mentioning that she had worked 
for the FBI also before I was born, that it was 
where she had met my father. I guess she really 
wasn't lying about that one. "The higher ups 
wanted me to debunk his work, to prove it invalid 
and shut down the X-Files investigations as soon 
as possible. To put it simply, we investigated 
the paranormal. Aliens, Bigfoot, you name it, 
we investigated it."

"You investigated the paranormal?" I couldn't help 
but ask. "You, the queen of the skeptics?"

"I've seen things that would make your head spin," 
Mom said, almost with a hint of bragging in her 
voice. "You get that from your father. He was 
such a believer also. Anyway, we worked on the 
X-Files for seven years, going through a few 
circles of hell but growing closer all the time...and 
falling in love. Finally, in early 2000, we 
admitted how we felt for each other, and for a few 
months we were so incredibly happy." Her face grew 
wistful. "And then Mulder disappeared, abducted 
himself. Walter was there when it happened. One 
minute Mulder was standing there, the next he wasn't 
and there was this bright light...That was the day 
I found out I was pregnant with you."

"Did you ever see Mulder again?"

"No," she said in a way that was slightly disturbing. 
"You know, they called him Spooky also. Not with 
affection, like Paulie calls you. It was a way they 
made fun of him, first about his uncanny talent as a 
profiler and then about his belief in the paranormal."

Downstairs, the doorbell rang, breaking the spell mom 
had woven with her story. Mom grimaced. "That's 
probably the Thai food I ordered for dinner. Dad's 
working late and I don't feel like cooking." Her eyes 
glanced over to the night table and she picked up an 
envelope that was laying there. She handed it to me 
as she climbed off the bed. "There's a picture of 
him in there if you're interested."

As she hurried to get dinner I couldn't help but call 
after her. "Wait, Mom!" She stopped in the doorway 
and turned around. "Are you still in love with him?" 
I asked. "With Fox Mulder?"

Mom smiled at me, a soft smile I had never seen on 
her face before. "I never stopped," she said, and 
continued out the door.

I looked down at the envelope and pulled the picture 
out. I wanted to see what my biological father looked 
like.

The picture was a candid color shot taken at a crime 
scene somewhere if the yellow tape was any 
indication. I could see his face clearly, and I 
traced over the distinctive features with my 
ffingertips. And it suddenly clicked why my mother's 
'No' when I asked her if she hadn't seen him since he 
disappeared bothered me.

She said it too quickly. Suspiciously quick.

Because the man in this picture, Fox Mulder, was the 
same man who was watching me at the bus stop yesterday.

And it also hit me why his eyes had been so unnerving 
to me.

They were the same eyes as my own.

I have my father's eyes.

 * * *

End of 'My Father's Eyes'