Title: William and his Mom
Category: X-Files
Summary: Scully thinks about William, but does William ever think about his mom? Set around Season 10.
Rating: Good for all audiences!
Spoilers: To be safe, I'll say up to Home Again (10:4).
Disclaimer: I wish I could say I even own William, but I don't :(

A/N: I HATE that William isn't with Scully and Mulder. I only watched the episode "William" once and I've conveniently blocked it out since then. This was written very late at night after the episode first aired and posted to Tumblr, and I'm just now deciding to put it up here. It's not been edited, so my apologies for any mistakes.


When William was barely a year old, he sometimes woke expecting to see someone else, someone with red hair and blue eyes above his crib. Instead, he saw the kind-faced, dark haired woman who was not his mother. She would pick him up and cuddle him and he would respond with happy gurgles and coos, but he knew. This was not his mom.

When he was five, William knew for sure something was different about him. Other kids couldn't hear feelings like he did. The woman he called mom was not really, even if no one mentioned it. His mom had red hair and blue eyes and smiled wide with her gums showing. His mom sang songs about a bullfrog and stared at a picture of him when he was a baby at night when she couldn't sleep. His mom prayed for him, she wished him to be happy, she wished for forgiveness. She cried a lot. Five-year-old William didn't know why she did that, but it would make him sad, too.

When William was ten, he was old enough to figure out at least part of the truth. His mom would dream about him, and at night, he could watch her dreams like a movie. They would play baseball with his dad, or she would go for walks with him and they would catch bugs together and count how many legs they had before letting them go. In her dreams, his mom thought his hair was a bit lighter than it actually was, and she didn't know that the little mark on his cheek had grown into a harmless mole, but it was there, just like his father's. His mom dreamt of the three of them on the couch, wrapped up in blankets, watching silly movies. It looked like fun. He could feel the joy in his mom during these dreams, so much joy that he wished it was real.

But mixed in with the good dreams there were scary dreams, with bad men who smoked a lot and other men with no faces. There were doctors who didn't look like his doctor, Dr. Crenshaw, who always had a far full of lollipops outside his office. These doctors were mean with strange metal instruments and bright lights. There were monsters and aliens and screaming people, and she was so scared, and William would wake up and yell, "MOM!"

But it wasn't the red haired, blue eyed mom he knew from birth who came at his call. It was his other mother, the one who loved him and took care of him for her. The one his mom left him with so he could be safe from the monsters and aliens, just like those in her dreams. Sometimes William felt guilty, but he loved this mother, too, and he let her hug him until the worst of the fear went away.

When William was fifteen he was a typical teen. He was long legs and big feet. He was moody and he was too smart for the other kids in school. He hated life on the farm, and he still could hear his mom in his head. He tried to hate her for leaving him with backwards adoptive parents in a backward town where no one had any ambition and they didn't get him and called him a freak for wanting more than just partying out in someone's barn on a Saturday night. But when things were quiet and he listened, he heard her regret. He heard her think of him and hate herself enough for the both of them. Almost as if she were in the room with him he could hear her speak his name. William. He knew his name was William and his dad was Fox Mulder. His mom was Dana Scully, and she missed him every day of his life.

I love you, William, she spoke in her mind, and he believed her. Deep in his soul he knew it to be true, and he knew that the red haired, blue eyed woman was not a figment of his imagination. She was his mom, and she gave up her happiness for his, and he knew he was not trash that was tossed aside, instead, he was the most precious thing in the world, so precious that she denied herself access to him for his safety. At fifteen, when he cried as he felt his mom's loss and mourned his grandmother's death, he hoped that somehow his mom could feel his feelings, too. I love you, mom, he spoke in his mind, I forgive you.