From: calobee@gmail.com   
      
     Umbra Reverie by 6hoursgirl   
     Summary: Mulder and Scully find their son, setting off a series   
   of events that force them to confront some painful and   
   terrifying truths.   
     Disclaimer: I love 'em, but I don't own 'em.   
     Category: X   
     Sub-categories: R,A   
     Rating: R   
     Spoilers: I Want to Believe, Season 10   
     Keywords: Mulder/Scully   
     Content: Post-Series   
      
      
        3:45 P.M.   
        It's been hours since Mulder stormed off, with no sign of   
   him since their argument  this morning.   
        He can't have gone far, his leg wouldn't hold out.   
        She tries to reassure herself, but Scully knows as soon as   
   the thought crosses her mind that it isn't true. Mulder is   
   downright bull-headed when he's angry. The sprain is relatively   
   minor; it would take a full-fledged amputation to stop him.   
        And even then, he'd probably tie the bloody stump to a stick   
   and keep going. He'll be lucky if he can walk tomorrow, she   
   thinks, irritated at her partner's untoward recklessness. But the   
   irritation doesn't last, only gives way to greater worry.   
        A half hour passes. She finally gets up; rest eludes her, so   
   she tends to the fire, stretches, examines and bandages her   
   burnt hand again. It's not healing fast, but it doesn't appear   
   infected. Ibuprofen takes the edge off.   
        Another half hour.   
        Shit.   
        All the pacing and fretting won't bring him back; it will be   
   dark in a few hours.   
        You're wasting time.   
        She doesn't want to worry Isaac, but he can't stay here   
   alone. They'll take the map and compass, head north, and hope   
   their paths cross with Mulder's before nightfall. She checks her   
   pack, adding warm clothes and first aid supplies, then douses the   
   fire.   
        He won't survive the night in these temperatures, she   
   realizes, shuddering at the thought.   
        "Isaac?" She approaches the boy's tent. "Isaac, we need to   
   find Mulder...I think he's lost."   
        There's a rustling from within as Isaac unzips the door.   
        "How are we going to find him?" He wears a familiar and   
   well-earned expression of skepticism. She doesn't want to trek   
   through the woods in the wee hours, calling for Mulder,   
   potentially drawing attention to themselves in the event an   
   unfriendly party is trying to find them.   
        "I'm not sure yet, but..." Her eyes widen.   
        Why hadn't she thought of it before?   
        "Isaac! Can you...do you think you can hear him? With your   
   mind?"   
        The boy crawls out of the tent, looking doubtful. "I   
   dunno...don't think I've ever read someone from a distance..."   
        "But it's worth a shot, right?"   
        Isaac doesn't have to read her mind to know her fear. He   
   shrugs uneasily, sitting down next to the fire. "I can try."   
        "Would you?"   
        He shifts, tilting his chin in quiet acknowledgment, eyes   
   closing to focus, listening for Mulder's presence.   
        At first, all he can hear is Scully; she radiates fear so   
   strong it drowns the world, and he struggles to move beyond it,   
   beyond their camp, to avoid drowning with her.   
        Several minutes pass, but there's nothing but dead air. Dead   
   air, and a vague sense of restless energy, which he attributes   
   to Scully...or perhaps himself, it's hard to tell.   
        Scully watches the boy's brow clench tight in frustration   
   and he shakes his head, upset.   
        "I can't..." he says, crestfallen, acutely aware of her   
   disappointment. "I've never done this before! I don't know   
   how..."   
        She kneels down, placing her hands lightly on his shoulders,   
   and narrows her gaze. "Isaac...can you try one more   
   time...please? For me."   
        Isaac looks at her doubtfully, but the desperation in her   
   voice threatens to consume him. Her fingers tremble against his   
   shoulders, betraying her composed exterior. He takes a deep   
   breath, exhales, this time picturing Mulder's face in hopes it   
   will trigger something, anything.   
        There is no magic formula, no instruction manual for his   
   gift; only intuition and blind hope.   
        He remembers the first time he realized he could hear   
   people's thoughts; he couldn't have been more than five. His   
   mother was having an argument with a cashier at the grocery   
   store; she'd been thinking the girl behind the counter looked   
   like cheap white trash, a common streetwalker in a strappy tank   
   top and cutoffs, and Isaac had innocently piped up in defense of   
   his mother, voicing her forbidden thoughts word for word.   
        His mother turned a deep shade of crimson and promptly   
   turned on her heel, abandoning their full cart, leaving the girl   
   with her mouth gaping open. She'd rushed them out of the store,   
   maintaining a silent iron grip on his elbow.   
        Only when they were in the car did it occur to him that she   
   hadn't spoken aloud. She didn't scold him, in fact they never   
   spoke of it again, the first of many incidents that left her to   
   cast furtive backward glances at her son in the rear view mirror,   
   as though she were afraid of him.   
        Follow your gut. Trust your instincts.   
        Mulder's advice rings true; instinct is all Isaac has now,   
   so he follows it, shifting his focus to the sound of Mulder's   
   voice, listening intently. There's so much dead air, static, but   
   then, faintly, an inner voice...   
        His eyes fly open, turning his head toward the trees. "He's   
   here! Not close...but he's out there..."   
        Scully's face brightens with relief, a hopeful smile pulling   
   at the corners of her mouth. "Great," she says in a voice almost   
   too light, too airy to be believed. "Let's start walking...can   
   you guide us?"   
        Isaac nods, trying to reflect her hope, but his heart is   
   pounding.   
        What he hears is definitely Mulder. The agent is in pain,   
   but this isn't what makes Isaac's heart race. What the boy   
   doesn't tell Scully is the fear her partner feels at this moment;   
   fear of some undefinable, unexplainable thing, fear unknowingly   
   passed to Isaac, planting a cold seed of unease in the boy's gut.   
        He pulls on a sweatshirt, following in Scully's dutiful   
   footsteps, wishing they didn't have to venture deeper into the   
   woods tonight.   
   #   
        "He's close," Isaac says, finally. "I can hear him."   
        Scully nods encouragingly, sweat on her brow. Isaac went   
   quiet after they left the camp, she was starting to get nervous.   
        "That's good. Any sense of direction?"   
        Isaac shakes his head.   
        Scully considers this, then decides to risk it, the chance   
   of finding her partner overshadowing the chance they might call   
   attention to themselves.   
        "Mulder!" She waits a moment, then tries again. And again.   
   Desperate, she scans the trees around them for a glimpse of his   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)