From: PamalaSt <pamalast@aol.com>
Date: 28 Feb 1999 14:22:14 GMT
Subject: NEW"My Name is William" byPamalaSt 8/14 PG13/Future

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"My Name is William" Part 8


(Two months later)

In time, a person can become accustomed to even the most bizarre truths. 
I know now who I am. Even if I cannot remember the events of my past, at 
least now I have come to know and understand them. I look at the people 
and things around me differently. They have no way of ever knowing the 
sacrifices my parents made to make their day-to-day lives what they are. 
There will be no recognition or monument to them. Only the memories of a 
few scattered individuals that, in time, will also fade away.

I haven't touched this journal for a very long time. Why? I'm not sure. 
But I am certain I will keep one for the rest of my life. Returning to 
California and my Grandma for a few days before leaving for Washington 
was a comfort. The remainder of my visit with the Gunmen was pleasant 
and uneventful. It took some time, but once I was able to believe that 
they had completed the task of revealing the Mulder family secrets to 
me, I really enjoyed their company. The three of them even convinced me 
to go deer hunting with them. I was not altogether comfortable with the 
idea but resigned myself to be along for the ride and nothing more. Of 
course I quickly found out that hunting for these men was little more 
than an excuse to escape into the woods for hours on end to swap stories 
about the one that got away while posing little or no threat to the 
white-tailed deer population of Northern Michigan. They are good men. A
part of my father I cherish as much as any blood relative. I see the 
Byers often now that I am in DC. Rosie Byers mothers me at every turn 
and I adore her for it.

The Byers are very different from one another. Much like my own parents, 
they are a testament to opposites attracting. Rosie Byers is a woman of 
instinct and intuition. She sees things so completely and clearly. I've 
often tried to convince myself that her need to mother me comes from 
missing her own child, Anna, still away at college finishing her nursing 
degree. But I know that is just not true. It's as if she has a sixth 
sense. She looks right into my heart to the place where a scared little 
boy still hides longing for a mother's love and comfort. Always knowing 
just the right things to say and do, she has become very special to me. 
And once you get past her annoying habit of trying to play matchmaker 
for me, she is a nearly perfect friend.

Which brings me to the first holiday season spent in the world of Mulder 
in over ten years. I'd settled into my new life in Washington well 
enough. Once the initial shock of a Mulder at the academy wore off, 
things have gone quite well. While few there knew my parents personally, 
my name certainly carries a reputation. But I have adjusted; eight weeks 
down, eight more to go with a nice little well-deserved holiday break 
right in the middle.

Despite the objections of my Uncle Bill, I decided due to time and 
travel constraints to spend the holidays in Washington with the Gunmen 
and their families. Always supportive, Grandma has arranged to come in 
and spent a couple days with all of us over the holidays as well. I know 
I shouldn't, but I can't help taking some pleasure in just how steamed 
my Uncle Bill must be to think his mother would choose to spend time in 
Washington with all of us over the holiday season.

The holiday festivities kicked off the Saturday before Christmas with 
Langley's wedding to his fourth wife, Catherine. No small affair for a 
fourth trip to the altar. It seems that Catherine, the picture of the 
career woman with her briefcase in hand at all times and a cellphone 
permanently attached to one ear, had never found the time in her 47 
years for a marriage. So this being her first go at it, Langley insisted 
they do it up right. Even Frohike had permission from his collection of 
doctors to make the trip to Washington for the week.

And so there we stood on that cold December afternoon. Byers, Frohike, 
and I in my father's place at Langley's side as he took vows to love, 
honor, and cherish Catherine. Of course, the guys were terribly 
sentimental about my being there to stand in for my dad. Frohike went so 
far as proclaiming my presence an omen that Langley had a keeper this 
time around. The service was simple and elegant, done entirely by 
candlelight, most certainly Catherine's touches at work. On the other 
hand, the reception was all Gunmen. While the surroundings were very
traditional, the mood for the evening reflected the happiness and spirit 
of three men so close and in tune with one another that they infected 
everyone around them with their enthusiasm. It was a really great party, 
in so many ways. 

Of course, there is one thing about that night that sets it apart from 
any other in my recent memory. It was the night I first met Anna. I'd 
spent nearly two months avoiding Rosie's attempts to play matchmaker for 
her daughter, Anna, and myself. I'd gone so far as making excuses to get 
out of my weekly dinner with the Byers if I knew that Anna was going to 
be home from school for the weekend. I really had nothing against her 
personally. It's just with all that I have learned about myself in the 
last few months, I didn't see how I could be any good for any woman 
right now. But there we were, in the same place at the same time. 
Fate???

I wonder- is this how my father felt the first time my mom walked into 
that basement office and smiled at him? I know there was something in 
her smile as I watched her cross the room with her mother that grabbed 
my attention right away. Rosie, ever subtle, wasted no time in the 
introductions and quickly made her apologies, disappearing and leaving 
the two of us sitting there alone at the table. Hey, I was prepared for 
this, all necessary defenses against a pretty face in place and ready to 
go. But then she spoke with all the warmth and zest for life I love in 
her mother. Her eyes, her smile, and her voice so open and friendly, as 
if we had always known one another.

How many other men before me had been utterly convinced of their ability 
to handle the opposite sex until that one right sweet face with soft 
lashes crossed their path, proving once and for all that they never had 
a clue in the first place? Who knows? But I do know that is exactly what 
happened to me the first time Anna Byers said my name.

I spent that entire evening with Anna. We sipped champagne while she 
talked of our childhood together. I listened to every word; it gave me 
the perfect excuse to look at her. I watched her beautiful green eyes as 
she told one story after another. I felt like a teenager again, savoring 
the sweet smell of her perfume. I had to muster every bit of control in 
me not to reach out and brush back from her face a stray lock of soft 
blonde hair that had managed to work its way free from the pearl comb 
holding her hair back. It pained me to tell her that I had no memory of 
our childhood together. But instead of feeling sorry for me, she
took my hand in hers, sending a chill through me head to toe, smiled at 
me and said "You will."

Who knows if it was her words or her touch but, at that moment, I did.
Something came back to me, a vision, a memory, of Anna as a child with 
long blonde braids relentlessly making fun of my first name. I was so 
lost in my thoughts I didn't even notice the arrival of her father until 
she let go of my hand. He made a vague joke about rescuing his only 
daughter from the clutches of a Mulder and whisked her away to the dance 
floor. I watched her as she walked away with her father. The simple 
green velvet dress she wore was perfect for her. She was without a doubt 
the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life. I could not take my 
eyes off her. OK, that's not entirely true. Once her dad caught me 
staring at his little girl and gave me that "I know what you're thinking 
look." I turned away just long enough to see Rosie watching me from
across the room, grinning like the cat that ate the canary. Perhaps she 
really does have a sixth sense.

Despite my intention to steer clear of any romantic entanglements at 
this point in my life, I found myself spending every moment possible 
that week leading up to Christmas with Anna. Movies, Christmas shopping, 
one meal after another. Any excuse to be with her.

Naturally, Rosie was very pleased with her role in our little romance 
and more than willing to help when I asked her to help me pick out a 
gift for Anna. Rosie is a truly romantic soul. When I told her I wanted 
get Anna a bottle of her favorite perfume, she told me that would never 
do; I should go out and find a scent that, when I close my eyes and 
breathe it in, it makes me think of Anna, and whenever she wears it she 
will think only of you, and to you that scent will forever be Anna. I 
took her advice. Who am I to argue with a woman who had been in love and 
happily married for over 23 years?

It was a wonderful way to spend the holiday. Christmas Eve was a casual
gathering with the Byers home full to the rafters with happy smiling 
faces. Everyone was there with the exceptions of Langley and Catherine, 
still honeymooning, and my Grandma, both due to arrive bright and early 
Christmas morning. Rosie and Mary Ann Frohike busied themselves in the 
kitchen taking inventory and making preparation for a Christmas day 
dinner to feed an army. The rest of us took up residence in the enormous 
family room after a quick meal of take out pizza. Lots of talk of 
Christmases spent together all those years ago. 

Listening to Frohike and Byers reminisce, I couldn't help missing my 
parents and feeling that it's wrong that they are not here. As I sat 
there watching the sparkling lights on the tree doing my best to appear 
involved in the conversation between the Gunmen and Frohike's sons, Anna 
sat down next to me and took my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Will, 
are you OK?" She whispered so the other men would not hear.

I just nodded. I really did not know what to say. And I was very aware 
that people were already talking about all the time we had spent 
together during the week. No sense adding fuel to the fire, the 
mistletoe in every doorway in the house was already proving an obstacle 
difficult to avoid. It wasn't that I didn't want to kiss Anna. As a 
matter of fact the thought was very appealing and I had every intention 
of making good on it soon. But not here with everyone watching our every 
move. She took my hand, dragging me off the sofa before I knew what had 
happened.

"It's snowing outside, Will. Let's go for a walk."

We really had a system going. It never failed. While I sat there 
thinking of what to do or say, Anna always seemed to be one step ahead 
of me, springing into action. Before I knew it we had our shoes, coats, 
and gloves and were on our way out the door into a veil of big, thick, 
fluffy snowflakes.

We walked for a while making small talk about the weather and the 
holiday decorations on the homes lining the street. And then she 
stopped, taking my hand in hers as she spoke.

"Sorry to drag you out of there like that, Will, but you had the dazed 
look in your eye like you had enough of the good old days talk to last 
you for a while."

Less than a week and she already knew my looks. How amazing this woman 
is! I turned to look at her, her eyes so sweet and understanding. 

"You really miss your Mom and Dad right now, don't you, Will??"

I bite my lip to fight back tears and look away down the deserted snow-
covered street.

"Yeah , I do."

Not a word, no attempt to find a way to make it all right. Instead she 
steps closer, wrapping her arms around my waist with a sigh, closing her 
eyes and bringing her head to rest against my chest. For once, no 
hesitation on my part. I wrapped my arms around her, drawing her body 
even closer to my own, before closing my eyes and resting my chin on top 
of her head. Taking in her warmth and comfort, I can't help but think of 
my father and the first time he held my mother in his arms all those 
years ago in Oregon. Granted Anna has on significantly more clothing 
than my mom did but the feeling is much the same. Like my father before 
me, I'm sure I'll never forget this moment and how it made me feel.

I don't know how long we stood there like that but it was long enough 
that we were both covered with a dusting of snow when she finally spoke.

She looked up at me with a bright smile, still pressed against my chest 
with snow in her hair and tiny flakes on her lashes.

"Feel better?"

I didn't say anything. How can I really tell her just how much better 
she makes me feel? Instead, I kissed her. After all, my father had hoped 
I would learn from his mistakes and, as I see it, six days is a huge 
improvement over the six years it took him to find the courage to kiss 
my mother.

For a small gentle kiss it was the most incredible feeling I had ever 
had with a woman. Even what I had thought of as the most intense and 
passionate moments in my life paled by comparison to the spark of 
excitement that rushed through my entire body when our lips met.

I didn't know what say. Hell, who knows if I could have spoken at all? 
Luckily for me, Anna was willing to do the talking for both of us.

She broke the embrace and took my hand in hers, giving me a smile that 
was just a little wicked, one that reminded me of her father's.

"That was nice Will, really nice. Certainly took you long enough. You 
Mulder men might be an unbearably good-looking line but you're a little 
slow to action, wouldn't you say??"

I couldn't help but laugh, thinking of my dad as we walked hand in hand 
through the snow back to the house.

"You have no idea."

So much for keeping our budding relationship under wraps. I like to 
think that she felt the same way about me that I felt about her. Both of 
us used any excuse we could think of to be close to one another the rest 
of the evening. I'm sure everyone noticed but I just didn't care 
anymore.

The rest of the evening was like being with family. While a few of us 
slipped off occasionally to wrap a last minute gift and slide it under 
the tree, Rosie and Mary Ann finished up in the kitchen and joined the 
rest of us in the family room bearing steaming mugs of spiced apple 
cider for all. We all settled in together and watched "White Christmas" 
with Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye. For my part I was thrilled with the 
holiday viewing choice. Not that I'm a big Bing Crosby fan or anything 
but it was a superior choice to "It's a Wonderful Life". Something about 
watching a film about a man coping with what the world would have been 
like if he had never been born was just a little to close to home for me 
right now.

Little by little, people headed off to their rooms for the night but I 
stayed up. I kept telling myself I couldn't sleep but the truth is I was 
hoping to be alone with Anna one more time. 

Of course things didn't work out quite the way I planned. I woke with a 
start from the lack of noise when the TV was finally switched off. I had 
fallen asleep there on the couch, as had Anna. I was asleep sitting up, 
for the most part, and Anna had also drifted off at some point, leaning 
against me with her head resting against my chest. I was so busy 
admiiring her sleeping face that  failed to notice why the constant 
noise of the television had stopped.

When I looked up, there she was standing in the doorway watching us, 
smiling from ear to ear.

My first thought was to jump up feigning that nothing was really going 
on here. But instead I give her my best sleepy smile. 

"Fine you win, Rosie."


[END PART 8]

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"My Name is William" Part 9



Lying there on the couch with Anna in my arms, I was right in the middle 
of some incredible dream that faded rapidly as I heard his voice. 

"Hey! Wake up, you two. Have you been down here all night?"

I sat up so quickly I nearly pushed Anna off the couch.

I gallantly jump to our defense. " Oh. Yeah, I guess we must have fallen 
asleep watching TV."

I follow Mr. Byers' eyes from the dark television screen and back to the 
two of us. I lean forward resting my head in my hands feeling like a 
teenager again and having no idea what to say to him.

Anna is already on her feet standing next to her father. "Good morning, 
Daddy. What time is it anyway?"

She grabs his arm, pushing up his sleeve to get a look at his watch.

"Oh God! It's only 7:30!! I'm going back to bed. Merry Christmas, 
Daddy."

A big smile in my general direction that most certainly does not go 
unnoticed by her father.

"I'll see you later, Will."

With a quick kiss on her father's cheek, she's out the door and on her 
way up the stairs to her room. I look up to find him still standing 
there, watching me.

"C'mon, Will, let's have a cup of coffee together. We better get moving 
if we are going to leave for the airport in less than an hour."

I follow him down the hall toward the kitchen. Coffee and a little chat, 
I'll bet. Even if Anna and I are not kids anymore, what father could 
resist raking a guy over the coals after finding him tangled up like a 
pretzel with his only daughter on the living room sofa?

Byers is busy with the coffee so I take a seat at the table and wait for 
the Interrogation.

"How do you take your coffee, Will?"

"Black, thank you." Right now, a good strong cup of black coffee sounds 
pretty good. Of course a nice big rock to crawl under wouldn't hurt 
either.

He sits across from me sipping his coffee silently. Perhaps choosing his 
words or maybe just making me squirm a bit.

"William." I set down the cup at the mention of my full name. Never a 
good sign. You learn this quickly right from childhood. Maybe I really 
don't miss those father-son / man-to-man discussions as much as I 
thought I did?

"Anna seems to like you quite a bit, Will. And I couldn't help noticing 
the two of you have been spending an awful lot of time together in the 
last week."

He picks up the cup again keeping his eyes locked on mine. Waiting for a
response?

"Yes, Mr. Byers, I'm very fond of Anna myself."

I watch his serious face. This man knows everything about me. Why should 
I be surprised that he would not want his daughter to have anything to 
do with someone as screwed up as I am?

"Of course I'll understand, given my past and my line of work, if you 
would rather I not pursue a relationship with your daughter."

OK, he did wince a bit at the mention of the word 'relationship.' But he 
is smiling now?

"Will, you trusted me with your past. The least I can do is give you a 
chance as well and trust you with my ONLY daughter."

He gets up and moves to the counter, searching through a huge container 
of Christmas cookies for just the right one to go with his morning 
coffee. He does not even turn around as he speaks.

"Well, now that I've done my fatherly duty, you better get ready so we 
get to the airport by 9:15."

Feeling that I had come out of our little conversation relatively 
unscathed, I pour the remainder of my coffee down the sink and head 
upstairs to get ready to leave for the airport. When I reach the top of 
the stairs, trying to be as quiet as possible in this house full of 
sleeping people, I see Anna standing in the doorway to her room 
motioning for me to come over to her.

"I hope he didn't give you too much grief? He can be a little 
overprotective. I think he likes to think I'm still 16 years old."

Of course, right now she looks about 16 years old standing there in an
oversized night shirt with thick white socks on her tiny feet.

"No, not at all. He was very nice about it. We had a cup of coffee 
together and he said that he "trusted me with his only daughter."

She bites her thumbnail in thought while glancing down the stairs to 
where her father is. "Geez, that's a new one on me, better watch your 
back! Will, as much as I enjoyed spending the night on the couch with 
you, it was not what I would call comfortable so I'm gonna go back to 
sleep now. You have fun on your trip to the airport with daddy. I'll see 
you later." 

As I begin to walk away, I hear her whisper my name. I turn to see her 
still in the doorway gesturing with her finger over her head. Ah yes, as 
if her mom would have missed placing a sprig of mistletoe in that 
doorway. I gave her a tiny kiss and watched her disappear into her room 
before heading to my own room a happy man.

Of course, Grandma's flight was late and we had to wait a ridiculous 
amount of time to get her luggage. And it was a huge amount of luggage 
for one woman coming in for a two-day visit. When I asked, she simply 
said that she had not seen any of these people in 10 years and "if you 
think I'd come empty handed on Christmas day, you're crazy."

As I watched Grandma and Mr. Byers exchange a tear-filled hug there at 
the baggage claim area, I realized that, as special as these men had 
become to me, to my grandma they were a part of her family. A cherished 
link to a daughter and son-in-law she lost so long ago. My heart ached 
and soared simultaneously watching them share their sorrow at the loss 
of my parents. 

On the drive back, I got the impression that, while my grandmother never 
knew of the Gunmen in the years prior to my parents' marriage, after 
meeting and getting to know them at the wedding they became very dear to 
her in the years that followed. It was nice to see grandma able to enjoy 
reminiscing about my father as well as my mom. Something I'm sure she 
was reluctant to do around my Uncle Bill.

As I sat there listening to them, she turned and handed me a small gift 
neatly wrapped with a ribbon and bow.

"Here, Will, you should open this now. This one is from your Uncle 
Bill."

As if I could really resist such a great opportunity for sarcasm. I hold 
the box up to my ear for just a moment.

"Uncle Bill, huh? Should we alert the bomb squad?"

Mr. Byers chuckles a bit behind the wheel. I think * Ah, I see you have 
met the man? * Grandma looks first at Byers, silencing him, and then at 
me.

"Give him a chance, William. Open it?"

I open the box to find a pen. A very expensive, nice pen and a rather 
long card from my Uncle Bill.

Merry Christmas William,

You've known me long enough to know I tend to get right to the point. 
And so I will. I'm an old, stubborn man, William. But on occasion I can 
admit when I'm wrong. And I have been wrong for a long time. 

I made my decision to blame and hate your father a long time ago. And 
when he was gone instead of letting go, I let it poison my relationship 
with the only connection I had left to a sister I loved. You. Your 
grandma was right, if your mother had witnessed the way I have treated 
you she would have shot me on the spot. I'm not really sure why she 
tolerated my behavior toward your father but I fear he had something to 
do with it. I doubt he ever told her any of the truly hateful things I 
said to him. Instead, over the years, he suffered numerous verbal 
attacks by me in silence to keep from causing a rift between a brother 
and sister. A connection I know he mourned deeply and would endure 
anything to avoid destroying for your mother.

I can' t ever tell him that I was wrong. It's much too late for that. 
But for you, Will, it's not too late. I'm so very sorry for the way I 
have behaved. I promised Dana I would be there for you and I would love 
you. And I've done a miserable job of keeping my promise. But not 
anymore. I do love you, William. And I am very proud you. I know both 
your Mom and Dad would be as well. I hope you can forgive me in time for 
being such a foolish old man.

Here is a little gift from Tara and myself in hopes that you will take a 
moment here and there to sit down and write a note to let us know you 
are well and happy. 

Wishing you the best,
Bill


I hold the pen in one hand and the note in the other and close my eyes 
in discomfort. Even if I should, I'm not ready to forgive him for myself 
or my father. Not yet. I open my eyes to find my grandmother watching 
me.

"You don't owe him anything, William. I don't know what he wrote, but I 
know he has many regrets that he is going to have to live with. He 
wanted me to tell you that he WILL be here when you graduate from the 
academy. And when he does come, I hope you remember that your dad knew 
and understood as well as anyone that people can and do make mistakes in 
life, and admitting them and doing your best to make amends is a mark of 
real courage."

After stopping for a traffic light, Byers turns to look at me getting in 
his two cents and letting the cat out of the bag all at once.

"We all make mistakes in life, Will. Of course, any mistake you make 
where my daughter is concerned will get pretty costly."

And so I spent the remainder of the trip back to the Byers home telling 
my Grandmother all about the most incredible woman I have ever met as 
gingerly as possible with her father sitting there hanging on my every 
word.

Thankfully, we arrived quickly and found Christmas day in full swing. 
Langley and Catherine had arrived already. The Gunmen and Frohike's sons 
had settled in the family room in front of the television and were busy 
channel surfing for a suitable sporting event. Rosie, Anna, and the 
other ladies were in the kitchen preparing a feast.


I stood there for a moment watching Grandma exchange a tear-filled hug 
first with Frohike and then Langley. It was then that I realized that 
both my mother and father would be here to share this very special 
holiday with us. Not just in me, but in so many people who loved and 
missed them.

And so I sit here on the floor of the guest room, writing in my journal 
once again. Anna is asleep on the very bed I lean against. Perhaps it's 
a trend. Do I think most clearly close to the ground? Anna had slipped 
into my room after everyone had gone to bed. As much as I may have 
wanted to, I did not touch her. Well, that's not all together true, I 
touched her at every opportunity even taking the chance to kiss her one 
more time. But for the most part we talked. Talked of every facet of our 
lives for nearly 3 hours before she drifted off to sleep. Leaving me 
sitting here with my thoughts.

What an amazing day. Christmas with the Scullys was always nice but 
often over shadowed with a sad silence at the absence of long lost 
family members. But not here, not today. I suppose it comes from the 
fact that the Gunmen know the whole story of what my parents did and 
meant. Today we talked of Mom and Dad and laughed at the same time. I 
can't help but smile thinking about it. I know they would both be very 
happy.

A day of glorious excesses. We all ate far too much, reminisced from 
dusk to dawn and exchanged a stack of gifts resembling a mountain the 
likes of which I'd never seen. The Gunmen delighted in giving each other 
electronics and books on every conspiracy theory sent down the pike for 
the last 50 years, spurring heated discussion between the three of them 
that stretched well into the evening. 

My gifts seemed to be tongue-in-cheek hints as to my inadequacy where
professional attire was concerned. Suits -- one each from my grandma, 
and each of the Gunmen and their wives -- accompanied by an assortment 
of shirts and ties. Far too expensive and extravagant for my comfort, 
but since it seemed to make them all so happy I went along with a smile. 

Anna loved the perfume I had chosen for her. She dabbed just a bit on 
her wrists and behind her ear and then settled in next to me waving her 
delicate wrist under my nose. When she asked, "Do you like?" It was all 
I could not to give her an itemized list of every little thing I liked 
about her right then and there in front of her parents and everyone. 
Instead I took her hand in mine, drinking in the intoxicating fragrance 
as well as every little detail of her beautiful face.

As I sat there watching the faces of the people around me, I wondered 
just how "in the know" the Gunmen really were. Had they lost their touch 
all those years ago or could they see, as they did with my father and 
mother, that I was a goner where Anna was concerned. 

For just a second, the thought crossed my mind that just maybe Anna was 
not as interested in me as I was in her. I watched her as she went to 
the tree coming back with a big box covered with red ribbons. My stomach 
tightened a bit. Is this what kept my father from my mother for so many 
years? Was it better for him to simply be near her than to chance her 
walking out of his life? 

Still filled with doubt, I opened the gift from Anna. Inside was a black
leather calendar organizer with more ties slipped between the pages of 
the calendar and address book portions. When I opened to the ties my 
doubts faded away. Each one had a note, her address and phone number at 
school, a carefully drawn map to find my way to her, and reminders for 
me to call her on the pages of nearly every week. I sat there flipping 
through the pages reading each and every "Call Anna" and "Anna would 
love to hear from you" note until Mr. Byers brought over one last box. A 
gift from all three of the Gunmen to me. 

I opened the box to find in a silver frame with a picture of my parents
standing together clad in dark suits and overcoats with FBI 
identification cards prominent on the coat lapels. On one side of the 
frame lay a book, Jose Chung's "From Outer Space". The lead characters 
in this book were thinly disguised versions of my parents. The author, 
one my mother's favorites, had written the novel about one of the many X 
files they had investigated together.


On the other side of the frame was a box containing a tie. Unlike the 
other ties I had been given, this one had been sealed in a box to 
preserve it much like one would a wedding gown. It was my father's 
favorite. My mom had given it to him not long after they began working 
together. Dark gray with a light pattern all over it that, to most 
people meant nothing, but to all of us was clearly a series of 
meaningful X's.

I don't know how I reacted or what exactly I said at that moment. But I 
can remember very clearly how it made me feel. I fought back the tears 
at the sight of the gifts because, for the first time in fourteen years, 
I felt as if I had my mother and father back. No illness, or the pain of 
having to go on without one another. But young, healthy, and hot on the 
trail of the truth. It gave me hope and promise for my own future.

It seemed a good place to end such a special day so I closed my journal 
and placed it on the nightstand before taking a seat on the bed next to 
Anna. Everything felt so good, so right. Although it was nearly 3 am I 
wasn't ready to let go of one of the best Christmas days I'd ever had so 
I just sat there quietly, watching her sleep.

"Anna," I whispered, gently nudging her, "time to wake up and head back 
to your room."

She opened her eyes slowly giving me a warm, sleepy smile that made me 
want to lay down next her, take her in my arms, and drift off to sleep 
as well, to hell with the consequences. But as wonderful as it sounded, 
I gave her a second gentle nudge.

"Umm. Is it morning already, Will?"

"No, it's only three in the morning but I wouldn't want your dad to 
catch us in here like this."

Slowly, she leaned up on her elbow and brushed away the hair from her 
face. Reaching out, she took my hand in hers and gently ran her thumb 
across the back of my hand.

"Mmm," she playfully murmured, "it would be worth it."

I could feel my resolve melting away every second. And as much as I 
wanted her to stay, I knew that this wasn't the time or the place for 
anything more. Not here, not now, not with her parents sleeping in the 
next room.

I watched her, lying there, and thought to myself how beautiful she 
looked in the soft light. In an instant, I knew that I could spend a 
lifetime looking at her face and never want to see anyone but her. 

"Yes, it would be worth it," I answered, fighting back the thoughts and
emotions that were flooding through my mind, " but you really should 
go."

"I know," she sighed resignedly, as she got up from the bed and moved 
toward the door.

She stopped at the doorway and turned around.

"Will?"

"Yes?" I answered, as I moved next to her.

She reached down and took both my hands in hers.

"I just want to tell you that I'm so happy you were here for Christmas. 
Being here, being with you, has made this one of the best holidays I can 
remember. I wish I didn't have to leave tomorrow for Ohio with Mom and 
Dad to visit relatives or go back to school at the end of the week. I 
would love to spend each and every moment of those days with you."

I could feel my heart beating faster with every word she said.

"I know, I feel the same way. I've..." I stammered, "...I've never met 
anyone like you."

"Will, I would really like to see more of you, if you didn't figure that 
out from your Christmas present already," she said smiling. "Nothing 
personal, but sometimes men aren't the best at picking up the hints 
lobbed in their direction." She gently place her right hand on the side 
of my face, her thumb caressing my cheek, her fingers curling through 
the back of my hair. "You're a very special man, Will...."

I could feel the gentle pull of her hand bringing me closer to her. My 
heart was racing, my body trembling, as our faces drew nearer. I could 
smell the scent of her perfume all around me, filling me with a warmth 
and fire I could barely control, as our lips met gently, sweetly.

I wrapped both my arms around her waist, drawing her body tightly 
against mine as she stroked the back of my neck. As our kiss deepened, I 
could feel the passion that I felt, that she felt, surrounding us like a 
swirling cloud of desire, threatening to overwhelm us, her lips, her 
tongue, meeting mine. 

As incredible as that moment was, I could feel the lingering of self 
doubt almost as if a lump in the back of my throat was there to remind 
me of my past. Of who I was, what I might become. The sorted pieces of 
my life still unexplained and waiting to shift the tides of fate yet 
again. As much as I wanted to be with her, was I deserving? Was it fair 
to invite someone so wonderful into a life so mixed up in a past of 
secrets and lies and a future that was unsure at best? I fought back the 
doubt. I wouldn't let anything ruin this moment. 

When I looked at her face I felt as if she was reading my mind. "Don't 
think to much Will, it will only get you into trouble." A peck on my 
cheek and she turned to leave.

She looked back over her shoulder with a sly, slightly devilish grin as 
she walked down the hallway to her room and playfully said, "You are 
going to call me, aren't you?" 

Speechless, I let my wide smile answer for me and as she headed into her 
room, she tenderly touched her two fingers to her lips and blew me a 
goodnight kiss, the playful look replaced by one of affection and 
longing and wondering when we would meet again.

I stretched out on the bed in my room and leaned over to grab the black 
day planner Anna had given me. As I drifted off to sleep, I kept 
repeating her number in my mind, committing it to memory. 


End Part 9

*************************************************

"My Name is William" Part 10



First thing in the morning everyone began to scatter. Langley and 
Catherine had gone home late the night before. With winter storm watches 
issued for the great lakes area, both the Frohikes and Byers got an 
early start to stay ahead of the weather. It was hard watching them all 
leave. The last two days had made me feel closer to my parents than I 
had in a long time. I had to remind myself often that my life was here 
now and that all these people were a part of it. This was reality, not 
some sort of dream that was going to suddenly disappear. The part of my 
parents that I had discovered through the Gunmen was here to stay.

Anna fussed a bit about having to go with her parents to visit Rosie's 
sister in Ohio. I was aware that we had precious few days to spend 
together before she had to get back to school. But it didn't bother me. 
Somehow I just knew that I'd be seeing a lot more of her in the future. 
A couple of days apart would make the time we spent together that much 
sweeter. As I said good-bye before she slipped into the car, I asked her 
to spend New Year's Eve with me. I nearly died of embarrassment when she 
answered yes by kissing me right there in front of everyone. But it was 
worth it. I stood there with a stupid grin on my face next to my grandma 
and watched them all drive away.

I had agreed to stay at the Byers' home while they were away. Mr. Byers 
claimed he would feel better not leaving an empty house. I didn't buy it 
for a minute. I knew he was already fond of me. I could tell that it 
pleased him to think he could do things that my father would have done 
for me if he was still alive. Of all the Gunmen I think Mr. Byers still 
mourns the loss of my father the most. Being a surrogate father to me 
seems to ease his pain. If I'm really honest with myself, I know he 
means an awful lot to me as well. And just how do I reward the man for 
being there, for helping me through the tough times and making me part 
of his family? I set a plan in motion to take his only daughter, of 
course. 

As it turned out, staying at the Byers' home worked well. Grandma's 
flight back to California was not until late that night and she would be 
more comfortable at the Byers in the mean time. But we had the whole day 
together before she had to go. Just the two of us like it had been for 
so many years. Since arriving in Washington I'd been so busy coming to 
terms with my past and getting on with my life that I had not realized 
how much I missed her.

For much of my life, she was the only family or connection to the past I 
had. I could not imagine life without her and yet here it was. I was 
halfway across the country, a grown man building my future and living my 
life, without her. As I walked back in the house with Grandma in front 
of me laying out the plans for the day, I noticed for the first time 
just how old and frail she had become. She was not always going to be 
there. Someday life would really have to go on without her. 

Once inside I made sure to tell her how much I really did love her and I
thanked her for everything she had done for me. I'm sure it sounded out 
of left field. But unlike most people, I had the wisdom of past 
experience. Having lost both my parents I know that if you fail to take 
the opportunity to tell your loved ones how much they mean to you, you 
might never get the chance. As if she read my thoughts, she gave me a 
hug and told me how proud she was of me. It felt like good-bye and I 
suppose it could be but it also felt like the right time to say the 
things we had neglected to say in the past. Before my mood became too 
gray from thoughts of losing her, she cheerfully went back to scheduling 
our day together. 

What a day together it was. Rosie had left me her car so we were free to 
go and do whatever we pleased. Unfortunately, much to my displeasure, we 
started the day with more shopping, adding to my rapidly growing 
wardrobe. I really didn't want to go. Spending the day after Christmas 
doing even more shopping was not my idea of a good time. But this was 
Grandma's day and I had made up my mind to do whatever she liked. Just 
knowing she was happy and seeing the smile on her face was worth it. In 
the spirit of keeping her happy I acquired yet another suit, two pairs 
of shoes, three mores shirts and ties and count them not one, but two 
very expensive overcoats. 

Every time I tried something on at Grandma's less-than-gentle urging, I 
found it more and more disturbing to catch my image in the mirror. I 
hoped I wouldn't meet too many people at the FBI who actually knew my 
father personally. I'd always had a strong resemblance to him but 
dressed like this, it was positively spooky. People were going to think 
not only was I trying to follow in my father footsteps but that I was 
him. A thought worthy of an X file. I suppose I could handle a little 
gossip; my father did in his time with ease. And things could be worse. 
I could be dressed like my mother instead. 

Casting off all doubts we paid for the purchases and headed off to 
lunch. I'd promised myself to keep things light. No disagreement to mar 
the day. But that didn't last very long. During dessert I mentioned that 
she had spent far too much money on me. To which her reply was "It 
wasn't my money, Will. It was yours". 

Despite my best efforts we launched into the one argument that we had 
ever had. One that had raged on and off since my 18th birthday. Before I 
could get a word in, she laid it on the line, insisting that I take 
control of my trust fund once and for all. 

I'm not sure why I had refused all these years. Maybe it was my Uncle 
Bill's constant sarcastic comments about the Mulder fortune. Sometimes I 
wondered if it was the thought that using his money was the final step 
in letting go of my father. But now after reading his journals, I can't 
help but wonder. Even if I don't remember, perhaps I was influenced by 
my dad's disgust at the money his father made at the expense of innocent 
people. Either way I had not touched it in all these years except to pay 
off Grandma's house and for college. Things I felt confident my parents 
would have approved of. But nothing more.

I threw out the usual arguments in vain. It was a losing battle. This 
time she had more ammo than she needed. Hell, just a few hours earlier 
I'd validated all her arguments in my own mind. She was right: I was 24 
now and on my own. Not even in the same state or time zone for that 
matter. She was not always going to there for me and this was an 
important step in letting go, standing on my own two feet. Once I was 
working and all settled, I could give it to charity, cancer research 
maybe, if that's what I wanted. 

I was ready to surrender when she brought out the big gun telling me 
that maybe I should find an apartment and get a nice car so II could 
impress my girlfriend *My girlfiend* I couldn't help smiling. She had a 
point there. It was easy to see that she was working hard on letting me 
go as well. Maybe she needed to know that I had the means to take care 
of myself, people that cared about me, and *a girlfriend* before she 
could go back to California. And so I gave in like any good grandson 
would.

Before I knew it I was standing at the gate in the airport watching her 
plane pull away. I had really enjoyed our day together. Even the time at 
the cemetery was special. I can still recall the feeling of dread as we 
crossed to their markers. I'd been there a couple times in the last 
eight weeks. It had been hard, bringing out a sadness in me that made me 
doubt the existence of a higher power. But somehow it was easier to bear 
alone; I had feared it would be too painful to be there with Grandma. 

To my surprise something happened as we stood there. We talked about 
them in a way we had never talked before. Instead of her daughter, her 
son-in-law or even my parents, she talked of the people they were in 
life. Of their souls, their spirits, their hopes and dreams. Of a love 
so deep and true that she was certain that not even death would ever 
really take them from one another.  I stood there smiling with salty 
tears staining my face. Not out of sadness or loss. But from the 
understanding of who they really were. Of all the things that made them 
special as individuals before the thought of me had ever crossed their 
minds. 

For the first time in my life I had an answer to something that has 
always puzzled me. My mother's family had all gone back to California 
and my father's family had their roots up and down the eastern seaboard, 
yet my parents had chosen to be laid to rest in Washington, far away 
from their families. All at once, it was finally clear to me. This was 
who they were, where they built their lives and a future together. It 
made sense. They were exactly where they should have been the whole 
time.

I know I'll never forget the last couple days. I've been sitting here 
since the moment I returned from the airport trying hard to jot down 
every moment and every corresponding feeling from this day. There are so 
many that I'm afraid I'll lose one along the way. But I won't; I'll 
never forget.

At last I give in to exhaustion, setting aside my journal and collapsing 
into bed. As I lay back, I'm struck with the faint scent of Anna's 
perfume on the pillow where she had drifted off to sleep the night 
before. I take a deep breath and let my mind wander from the past into 
the future.

I was up early the next morning thanks to a less than gentlemanly dream 
about Anna. The smell of her perfume, coupled with the image of her 
lying here the night before willing to stay there with me, was more than 
any mortal man could take. Well, at least more than his subconscious can 
take. I had a lot to do but opted for a little target practice. Seemed 
like as good a plan as any to dispel a bit of unresolved sexual tension. 
I can only imagine how many rounds my parents must have gone through in 
all those years.

The range, as I'd expected and hoped, was nearly deserted just two short 
days after Christmas. I was looking forward to the time to myself. But 
as I stood there, not having gotten a single shot off, still loading my 
weapon, it all went to hell. I felt a firm hand on my shoulder and 
turned to find a man I'd never seen before. But somehow I knew who he 
was. That a meeting I had dreaded since that day with the Gunmen in 
Michigan was here.

"William Mulder? My name is Spender. If you don't mind, I'd like a 
moment of your time."

I do my best to keep things formal. I really don't think there is any 
hope that this man has any intention of staying out of my life but I 
have to give it a shot.

"You need to speak to me in an official capacity then, Assistant 
Director Spender?"

He looks me over, choosing his words. As I watch his face, he seems old 
and tired beyond his years. Softly, so as not to draw attention to us 
from the few others there, he speaks to me with a sadness that is 
unmistakable. 

"It's clear you know who I am, Will. Whatever you have been told or 
whatever you might think, if you will give me some time and listen to 
what I have to say, I'll not bother you again."

Something about him tells me that, whatever else he may be, he is a man 
of his word. And just maybe listening to him, the lies I know he 
believes, is the price I have to pay to have him out of my life. Upon my 
agreement, we left for his office to talk in private. 

Neither one of us spoke a word on the trip over. We only exchanged 
glances. For my part, I was curious to put a face to all the things my 
father had written about this man. And he was undoubtedly drawing the 
obvious comparisons between me and my father. This was confirmed by the 
first words out of his mouth once we were seated in his office.

"You look so much like your father, Will, seeing you makes me miss him 
all the more."

I was prepared for the first part but the fact that he claimed to miss 
my father took me completely by surprise. I had to make a quick decision 
on just how I was going to handle this. I chose not to pull any punches, 
to tell this man the truth, and expect no less from him in return.

"I'm sorry, sir, I don't mean any disrespect. But from what I've have 
read and all I've been told, I was under the impression that you hated 
my father." 

He leans back in his seat beginning to fidget with the pen in his hand.

"First of all, Will, there is no need to call me sir. This has nothing 
to do with your position at the FBI. Anything you and I say to one 
another has no bearing on you professionally. Second of all, I'm aware 
that you have been spending a great deal of time with certain 
individuals. I have nothing against them. I know they were your dad's 
closest friends." 

He knows where I have been spending my free time? I try to keep my 
reaction from showing on my face. I guess I'm successful since he 
continues on without pausing.

"But they don't know the whole story, Will. There are things your father 
kept from them either because he didn't think they needed to know or 
because he refused to believe the truth himself."

I interrupt him. I know where he is going with this. I don't believe it 
for a minute so I lay it on the line, hoping that getting to the point 
will get me out of here that much quicker.

"Actually sir, I do know that you are under the impression that my 
father was your half brother. I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude but 
I've read in m father's own words that this is not the truth. And I 
can't imagine what you might say to make me think otherwise."

"You're free to do what you like with what I have to say, Will, but 
please hear me out before you make any judgments."

I give him a nod. I may as well listen to what he has to say and be done 
with it.

"Your father, Samantha, Alex Krycek, and I are all failed attempts at 
what you eventually became. You were not the first child born immune to 
the virus, William. We were."

I can feel a knot coil in my stomach. I want to get up and walk away. 
But I don't. Something inside tells me I need to hear this. I let him go 
on.

"You see, Will, other vaccines were tested long before the one you 
helped to create. Or even the ones your parents received. A very early 
attempt was given to some of the members of the project a long time ago. 
Unfortunately, like many later attempts, it was not successful. Only a 
few people became resistant to the virus. There was, however, a man 
working on the project named Alvin Kurtzweil, an OB/GYN, who believed 
that the answer might be found in the offspring of two immune parents. 
Three women and one man retained resistance to the virus for a time. 
This man -- my father and your biological grandfather -- fathered four 
children with these women. His wife, an unmarried Russian scientist, and 
your paternal grandmother. What they did in hopes of saving many
lives tore their own lives apart."

He turns away and walks over to gaze out the window as he speaks. I can 
see that he believes he is speaking the truth. It pains him to tell me as 
much as it did the Gunmen when they unraveled my past for me just two short 
months ago.

"I never really hated your dad. I suppose more than anything, I was 
jealous of him. First, long before I knew the truth, because he was the kind of 
agent I wanted to be. He was always true to himself, always seeking truth and 
justice, putting what was right above personal ambition. And then the father I 
never knew, who had walked away from his wife and child so many years ago, 
came back into my life, telling me everything he had done out of some sick need to relieve his own guilt."

As he turns to face me again I can see the pain on his face. Be it 
rooted in truth or lies, the impact on this man's life is clear.

"Maybe I did try to hate your father for a time, Will. It was the 
easiest thing to do in my situation. As I came to know my own father it was clear  that, in spite of what he said, he had turned away from his own wife and child because he longed for another man's. My father loved your grandmother and always considered your dad to be his son. He was proud of Fox in a way that he 
never could have been of me. No matter how I tried to please him. He saw your 
dad as above the very conspiracy he worked to bring both Alex and me into. It 
was hard not to hate him. But in time, unlike Alex, I came to understand that we 
were all just victims and tried to reach out to your father.............."
Growing weary of his twisted tale of bizarre sibling rivalry I cut him 
Off mid-sentence.

"I'm sorry, sir. But I can't imagine what you might say to convince me. 
Not when I've heard in my father's own words that his father was Bill 
Mulder. Now if you don't mind, I really should be going now."

In one last attempt to reach me, he crossed the room, taking a seat on 
the desktop meeting my eye with a combination of frustration and sorrow.

"William, both your father and your mother knew the truth. When you were 
born they had to face it. They faced it because of you. What you don't see is 
that they never wanted you to know the entire truth. While all four of us 
were born resistant to the virus, it faded in time and we became normal children.  Normal kids conceived under less than normal circumstances who were forced to live with the repercussions of what our parents had done." 

Somewhere along the line I stopped listening. I can feel my throat 
tightening. I can recall both my parents' concerns in their journals entries over my first two years as they tested me again and again to determine if I was 
retaining my resistance to the virus. I can see their words in my mind. They made very little sense at the time but now I wonder -- did they know? 

I know that my father often questioned his connection to the smoking 
man. But now I wonder if he really did know but chose to turn away from this one 
truth. I'm so busy sorting out my father's words and thoughts that I have shut 
out the other man in the room altogether. His voice shakes me back to reality.

"William? Listen, Will, I know this is overwhelming. But I needed to 
tell you this. Not for myself but for your sake. My father died a long time ago, 
Will. I've made a life and career for myself. And I can't ever change the 
past. But I want you to know even if you don't believe a word of what I've said, I'm still here to help you in any way I can. I'm here if you need me. At the very least, I owe that to your dad for making me a better person, by being true to himself and expecting nothing less from the people around him."

I'm not sure what to say. Will I ever see this man again? Is he really 
My father's brother? And if so, how can I help but feel for him knowing 
that he has suffered from the same conspiracy that haunted my own parents?

I stand and offer him my hand.

"AD Spender. Thank you for your time. I can't say that I'm altogether 
clear on what your connection was to my father. But I do see that you both 
suffered at the hands of a man who may or may not have been my biological 
grandfather. I'm grateful for your offer to help me, but hope that you understand that I need to find my way on my own."

He beams a huge smile as he walks me to the door. Suddenly no matter who 
this man really is to me, I find I can no longer hate him as I did when I 
walked through the same door a short time ago. As I turn to walk away he stops 
me, grabbing my forearm while thoughtfully rubbing his whiskered chin with 
his other hand.

"William, you're a good kid, the best of both of your parents. I know 
you're going to make the right choices. I don't know when or if we'll see one 
another again and I need to warn you...Alex Krycek is here in Washington, Will. 
He is going to come looking for you soon. He's not a good man, Will. His 
hatred and distrust have made him vengeful and bitter over the years. He is the 
most powerful of many men who believe that you were only a postponement to 
the completion of their plans."

I can hear the urgency in his voice and can see that this was not the 
meeting to be dreaded. As I walk away I hear him whisper under his voice.

"Trust no one, William."


End 10

*************************************************

"My Name is William" Part 11


In the last few days, I've wasted far too time trying to make a decision 
that never needed to be made in the first place. Mr. Spender never once asked 
me to trust him. He just asked me to listen to what he had to say. I've done 
that. What he says may be true, but does it really matter who my biological
grandfather is? It's possible that my father knew and chose not to acknowledge
it. To me, it makes no difference. I know my father was a good man no 
matter who his parents may have been or what they may have done.

More and more it's not about trust, or even my questionable family tree, 
But about concern for what lies ahead. How many more secrets or lies are 
still out there waiting for me? Around which corner does Alex Krycek lurk? And 
will I someday happen across my father's only real family? Is my Aunt Samantha 
still out there somewhere, never knowing that the brother who spent so much of 
his life searching for her has himself been gone for more than ten years 
now? Has she lived her entire life never knowing who she really was or of the 
people she left behind? I can't help feeling that, if that is the case, perhaps 
it's best that she never knows.

Yes, very clearly Spender's appearance has caused me to spend far too 
much time living in the past. So much so that I've neglected the present and the 
future. But not anymore. If there is one thing the last few months have taught 
me, it's that I cannot change the past. And dwelling on it could easily cost me 
my future. Right now the one person I'd hoped would be a part of that 
future has been back home for two days, wondering why I have not returned her 
calls. 

No matter how much I want to be close to Anna, I keep trying to distance 
myself from her because of my past. If there are still other people and secrets 
out there like Spender and his tale, how fair is it to involve her in my 
life? I've been thinking a lot about my father and mother. How he kept her at arms llengt all those years fearing that letting her love him would cost her life. And the most horrifying thought of all: ultimately, it was the indirect cause of her death. I don't know how he ever lived with the knowledge of what they did to her simply because of him. I can't bear the thought that someone out 
there might be willing to hurt the people I care about for no other reason 
than to hurt me or keep me in check.

As much as I want to be with her, I've made up my mind to slowly pull 
away from Anna. I care about her too much to walk away with no explanation. But I hope, in time, if I hide my feelings and we spend less and less time together, 
she'll walk away from me. I want her to be safe. I know I can't hide from her 
any longer so I pick up the phone and call.

OK, nobody said this was gonna be easy. When I called to confirm our 
date for New Year's Eve, she was so sweet. Not a word about my failure to return 
her messages. Instead she talked of how boring her trip to Ohio had been and 
how much she'd rather have spent that time with me. 

It made me sick to think how wonderfully open and honest she was with me 
while I was planning to lie to her. Even if I kept telling myself that it was 
for her own good, I still felt like a creep. I thought I was getting a break 
when she said her mother wanted to talk to me but, as I should have known, I was 
wrong.

Rosie joyfully explained that, since their wedding anniversary was New 
Year's Eve, she and Mr. Byers were going out for a night on the town leaving 
the house free for Anna and me to have a romantic evening alone. I should have 
seen this one coming. How quickly I had forgotten Rosie's aptitude for 
matchmaking. She explained that she felt bad that the two of us had not a moment alone during Christmas since a half dozen people were always looking over our 
shoulders. I swear I could feel my heart rise up in my throat as she spoke. A week ago an evening alone with Anna complete with a candlelight dinner and bottle of champagne would have sounded like heaven but right now it sounded more 
like torture. But lacking other plans and being the kind of guy who would 
never cancel a date with a beautiful woman the day before New Year's Eve, I 
agreed.


(New Year's Eve)

I arrived just in time to meet Mr. Byers and Rosie on their way out the 
door. They looked so happy together even after all these years of marriage. 
Rosie gave me a hug and kiss, telling me to have a good time. With raised 
eyebrows and a scowl, Mr. Byers added "not too good a time. Keep in mind, Will, I might have installed surveillance equipment around the house, so behave 
yourself with MY daughter." As they walked away I could almost see an image in my mind of Byers and Langley actually installing hidden cameras around the house.  Ah, but it didn't matter, I had nothing to fear. I was going to be the perfect gentleman tonight.

As I walked in the door I was breathless at the sight of how beautiful 
she was. I had not seen her except in my mind since that morning after Christmas.  But somehow tonight, as if some unseen force was determined to chip away at my resolve, she looked even more stunning than I remembered. When we talked on the phone and she mentioned that she would prefer to go with casual attire for our evening together, it had been a big relief. I was certain I would be lost if I had to see her looking as incredible as she had at Langly's wedding. 

But somehow this was worse. I don't know if it was the plain black jeans 
that hugged her curves in all the right places or the green sweater with the 
neck line that dipped down just far enough to tempt any man and brought out 
just the right shade of green in her beautiful eyes. There was just something 
about her sweet face that told me that I didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell of not losing my heart to this woman whether I allowed her to give me hers or not.

As she reaches up to pull my jacket from my shoulders, I start to 
understand why my father never could let my mom go. By the time he realized how 
completely she held his heart, he had no hope of living without her. Already I can feel Anna reaching into my soul and pulling at my heart. But I'm not lost, 
not just yet, perhaps there is still hope that I might continue to breathe, get 
out of bed every morning, and find a way to live without her love in my life.

As she walks through the hall toward the kitchen I can hear the smile in 
her voice as she speaks. It's so easy to see how happy she is right now, 
happy to be with me. I wonder if she can see the confusion I feel written on my 
face.

"Listen, Will, I'm not much of a cook so be kind. I hope that pasta is 
okay with you since I'm not any good at cooking anything else. I think the 
water should be boiling by now, would you mind giving me a hand in the 
kitchen?"

It's one of those moments in life where you know just what to say and 
how you should act but yet something inside overrides common sense and you 
follow your heart instead of your head. 

"Anna?" I reach out and take her hand, causing her to turn and face me. 
"You look beautiful tonight, I've missed you."

She takes a step toward me closing the distance between us.

"Well, you look great yourself, Will. Black looks good on you, dark,
mysterious...."

She wraps her arms around my waist pressing her body against mine. I 
tell myself I should run but instead I take her in my arms pulling her 
tightly against me. I can feel the unmistakable response of our closeness hum 
through my body as she rises up on her toes and finishes her sentence in little 
more than a whisper against my ear.

". . .sexy, very sexy." 

I'm not made of stone. There's just so much a guy can take. A beautiful 
and intelligent woman tells me I'm sexy the least I can do is kiss her. 
Still standing there, her soft cheek against the side of my face, I turn and 
bring my lips to hers. I shouldn't kiss her but I do anyway, to hell with the
consequences. I might never get the chance again. I can't help but 
wonder how anything can feel so incredibly good yet hurt so much at the same time.

Just as I begin to think that staying here with her tonight is more than 
I can handle, that I should make some excuse and get away while I still can, 
we heard the loud hiss of boiling water flowing out of the pot onto the red hot 
stove top. Before I can have another thought of what to do or how to handle 
the situation, she runs off to the kitchen to tend to dinner. With a smile 
over her shoulder gesturing for me to follow, she rounds the corner.

"See, I told you I can't cook! Come on, I need your help in here."

And so I go in to help. I'll stay; I really do want to be with her. If I 
keep the physical contact between the two of us to a minimum, I might even 
survive the evening with just a mere hint of mental and physical discomfort and 
still have a wonderful time.

As I walk into the kitchen she smiles as she starts giving orders for my 
part of the preparations. 

"Oh good, can you stir the sauce while I put the pasta to boil so I can 
start making the salad?"

I simply nod and begin to absentmindedly stir as I watch her graceful
movements. I don't know how it will taste but she looks great making it. 
On the way to the fridge for yet another load of veggies, she leans her body 
against my back as she reaches past me to open a cupboard full of glasses to one 
side of my head. Her other hand grabs a bottle of wine from the countertop 
while our bodies maintain close contact.

As she sets the wine and glasses on the table and returns to the salad, 
I can see by the playful grin on her face that she is enjoying teasing me. I 
guess it's not my making physical contact with her that I'm going to need to 
worry about. 

"Will, why don't you pour us both a glass of wine? I think you'll like 
this kind, it's one of mine and mom's favorites."

I pull out the cork, setting the bottle aside to breathe a bit while we 
finish up with the dinner preparations.

*Wine? Champagne? Is she crazy?* I can barely resist her now, stone cold 
sober, let alone with a couple drinks under my belt. As I watch her, I run my 
excuses through my head. How silly it would all sound if I actually tried to 
explain. 

*I'm sorry, Anna, I really shouldn't drink tonight. If I did I might 
want to tell you how incredibly beautiful you are, how much I'd like to take you  in my arms and kiss your lips, how I can imagine what it would feel like to 
have your warm, soft body beneath mine as I make love to you....... But, you see, I can't because there's so much you don't know about me, things I still don't understand myself, things that I have no control over but still threaten 
me or anyone one I might love.* 

Oh yeah, that would work. This is one of those times in life when 
honesty is not the best policy. I'm so busy considering what, if anything, I should say that I don't hear a word she is saying.

"Will. Hey, you still in there?"

I turn to face her, unsure of just how long I had let my mind wander or 
what she may have said in the meantime.

"Yeah, yeah, sure Anna, I was just thinking about something. I'm sorry, 
what did you say?"

It's a huge relief when she does not question me on what thoughts had 
pulled me so far away from reality.

"That's OK. But I need you to do me a favor. The strainer is already in 
the sink, if you don't mind draining the pasta for me. I'm up to my elbows 
here in overripe tomato and don't want to overcook the pasta."

Be it careless or just distracted, as I move the pot of boiling water 
and pasta to the sink, I clumsily catch the bottom of the pan on the edge of the
countertop. The boiling hot water splashes all over the sink, floor, and 
a bit of it on myself. More annoyed than injured, I set the pot in the sink 
and turnaround tugging the hot, wet material of my shirt away from my skin. She 
is standing right beside me.

"Oh, my god! Will, are you hurt?"

Before I can open my mouth to speak, she pulls my shirt free from my 
pants and over my head in one swift motion. All at once I forget any thought of 
possible injury and realize even if I was hurt, the real danger right now is the 
loss of my shirt. The more clothing the two of us wear when we are together, the 
better to avoid temptation. 

"It's OK, Anna, I'm fine, really. It's nothing to worry about." I reach 
for my shirt but she beats me to it, taking it from the floor and tossing it on 
the chair just out of reach. As she stands there washing her hands and 
watching me, I can see there is no way I'm gonna get out of this without her making sure that I'm all right. I know its just the nurse in her but as she puts her hands on my chest my medical well being is the last thing on my mind.

"Hold still a minute, Will, let me take a look at you, if you're not 
burned we can go upstairs and borrow a shirt of my dad's while I throw yours is in the dryer."

As I feel her hands gently explore my chest checking for burns, I'm 
thinking that there is no way I'm going upstairs with her when I'm half 
undressed. Not to mention the fact that I don't want to think about her father, not with her standing there touching my bare skin. As she runs her hands across my stomach, pulling the waist of my jeans down a bit with her thumbs, I can feel an intimate response in my body somewhere south of the border. It's a  tremendous relief and aid to my self-control when she moves her hands back up 
against my chest giving special attention to a spot just below my collarbone which is pink and tender from the boiling water.

"Does this hurt?" I shake my head as I feel her gently run the delicate 
tips of her fingers over the sensitive skin. Her voice soothes any pain I might 
be feel. "This spot might be a little tender for a while, but it's no more 
severe than a mild sunburn and you should be just fine in no time." 

Thank God, I made it through the examination and damage assessment 
relatively unscathed. Just when I'm convinced that I have maintained control over my desire during what had to be the most challenging moments of the 
evening, she brought her lips to the tiny burn on my chest. 

First, kissing away any pain I might have felt. Then slowly working her 
way up, bathing the side of my neck with kisses, sweet and tender at first, but 
then increasing in passion and intensity until I can feel my resolve melting 
away as she teasingly runs the tip of her tongue up the length of my throat.

So much for keeping my distance. I can't take it anymore. I need to hold 
her and feel the taste of her lips on mine. If somehow I find the strength 
to turn away from her I want to remember what it felt like to hold her in my 
arms. I need to know she wanted me as much as I wanted her.

My body trembling, I take her face in my hand, curling my fingers around 
the side of her neck, my thumb softly stroking her cheek. Gazing into those 
eyes, I can see the trust and warmth emanating from them. More than that, 
however. I can feel the heat and desire behind those eyes, the passion, flowing 
into me, threatening to make me lose all sense of control and send me hurtling 
down an uncharted road. Unable to hold back another second, I pull those warm, 
sensual lips of hers to mine, as she grabs the back of my head and wraps her 
fingers around my hair.

I can feel myself falling down a bottomless hole as my tongue 
desperately meets hers, exploring every inch of her mouth. She presses herself hard against me, forcing me back against the countertop and tighter against her as my hands roam across her face and through her hair. I feel a sudden rush move through me as we keep kissing, deeply, passionately. I have never felt like this 
before. I have never wanted someone or wanted to give myself to someone so utterly and completely in my entire life. 

For an instant I think we can do this. Maybe I can keep her safe. But as 
we stand there in each other arms her head tucked under my chin a memory 
comes flooding back. The image is so clear as I close my eyes. I'm 10 years 
old again. It's no more than a couple days following my mother's funeral. 
I'm supposed to be asleep, but I'm not. I'm standing in the dark in the 
hallway just outside the living room listening. 

I can hear my dad talking to a man. I can only imagine the man must be 
the Mr. Skinner that I don't recall from my childhood and never had the chance 
to know as an adult. I hear his voice in my mind, so deep, strong, and kind at 
the same time. His efforts to comfort my father make it clear he is a close 
friend. I can hear my father's words, heavy with sorrow and guilt. At times his 
voice is choked off altogether with the tears I know he must have shed but never 
let me see. No matter how much the other man tries to convince him otherwise he 
just keeps saying over and over "I killed her,..... it's all my fault. If she 
had never met me she would be alive right now."

My eyes fly open to see Anna there pressed against me. I pull myself 
from her embrace and turn away from her. I don't know what I can say to make her
understand that I can't risk someone hurting her because of me. I don't want to
hurt her myself either but the less said the better. What else can I say 
but what I feel the most right now?

"I am so sorry."

She walks around to face me again. Why can't she be angry and tell me to 
get out and never come back? Instead, she tries to understand me. Her 
fingers grasp the tiny cross that I now wear under my clothing, close to my heart.

"It's them, isn't it? This has something to do with your parents, doesn't it,
Will?"

I don't say a word. I just stand there looking at the tiny piece of gold
between her fingers. 

"It has something to do with those X files my dad keeps talking about. 
Look, Will, I know my dad, he lived for conspiracy theories when he knew your 
father. There is more to all this X files stuff than simply chasing UFO's, isn't
there?"

She walks to the stovetop switching off the burners. "What do you say we 
just order pizza?" Heading into the hall, she stops to lean against the 
doorway. "Why don't you have a seat while I go get you a dry shirt? I'll be back 
in a minute and we can talk, okay?"

I give her a weak smile and nod in agreement before crossing to sit at 
the table. I feel cornered and relieved at the same time. I know I need to 
tell her as little as possible, just enough to help her understand. At least I 
won't have to lie to her or hurt her. She will know that my reluctance to be 
with her is my problem and has nothing to do with a lack of interest in her.

As she walks back into the room she tosses me a gray T shirt, and grabs 
a couple of soft drinks from the fridge before taking a seat across from 
me to talk. She sits there silently looking at the table top before her eyes 
rise up to me mine.

"OK, Will, listen. As much as I would like there to be more between us, 
I want you to know most of all I want to be your friend. You need someone to 
talk to other than my dad, someone your own age. Whatever it is that's bothering 
you, you don't have to go it alone."

She reaches out taking my hand in hers making my heart ache. "I'm not 
going to lie to you, Will. I like you a lot and I felt like there was something 
between the two of us. I still do. I thought you felt it too?"

I close my eyes for a moment feeling her hand on mine. Here it is, my 
golden opportunity. All I have to do is tell her I don't feel the same and be 
done with it. Even if I shut this door, we will still have a friendship that 
can grow. My heart rushes in before my head has a chance to stop it.

"I did... I do-" I stop for a minute or is it just a second? It's hard 
to tell; my mind is racing in so many directions. Why did I do that? I should 
have just let it end. I keep telling myself that's what needs to happen. But I 
just couldn't. Then as I realize she is still sitting there waiting. What am 
I going to tell her???

I opt for a line of partial truths. "It's my job, Anna, I want to work 
in violent crimes like my father. It can be dangerous. Not to mention I'll 
be dealing with a lot of disturbing cases. I just worry about what might 
happen or how it might change me. I don't think I should get involved until I know I have my head together and have something to give in return."

She laughs. I blink in surprise. I certainly didn't see that one coming!

"Dangerous? Disturbing? I'm trying to find a job working in a DC emergency
room. I'd say it's a toss up as to whose job will be more dangerous and
disturbing. I'm not buying it, Will. There has to be more to it."

So I give her the truth or at least a small taste of it. With luck, 
enough to satisfy her. Maybe someday I'll be able to tell her everything. "You're right, there is more to it. And it does involve my parents and the X files. The X Files brought my parents in contact with some very dangerous people. Recently I met a man who . . . " 

I pause for a second, gnawing on my lower lip. I take a deep breath and 
force myself to continue. "He warned me that these people are still out there. 
They are unpredictable and very aware of who I am. I just don't want to see 
anyone hurt because of me, Anna."

She doesn't ask anymore. Her understanding is written on her face. She 
is quiet for moment as she closes her eyes. I expect to see fear when she opens 
them. But it isn't fear that I see in her eyes.

"If you turn away from me, Will, you'll be hurting me just the same. 
Even if we've only known each other a short time, I know I want to be with you. 
Will you let me?"

I walk over to her and pull her into my arms holding as tight as I dare
whispering against her head. "I just don't want anyone to hurt you." 

She buries her head in my chest pulling her arms tight around my waist 
"They won't, Will."

I released my hold on her so I could see her face. Be it one day or ten 
days together, it didn't matter, I already knew it. I was in love with her 
and I couldn't help myself.

I gave her a soft kiss on her sweet lips and then another on her 
forehead and held her close again.

"I hope you're right."


End part 11

**************************************************************

"My Name is William" Part 12


(Two months later)

Well, at last I'm done. Two days ago I finished my training at the 
academy. The last couple days have been just crazy. Everyone came to town to attend the party that Mr. Byers and Rosie insisted on throwing for me. Even 
Grandma, Uncle Bill, and Aunt Tara made the trip. We all had a great time together. Everyone has been so wonderful. Other than being called Agent Mulder all evening long, which got old pretty fast, the party was a big success. 

At one point, the Gunmen pulled me aside for a shot of top grade 
whiskey, hugs, and to tell me how proud they were of me. They went to great lengths to make sure I understood how proud my parents would have been. Of course I know that, but it's so kind of them to want to reassure me. I may have lost my father a long time ago but it feels as if I have three fathers in these men. I'm sure my dad would be very pleased that they have become such a big part of my life.

Hell, it's still too early to say for sure, but I've had more than the
occasional passing thought of Byers as a father. Well, actually, a
father-in-law. Yeah that's right, no matter what I told myself was right 
or what I knew I should have done, I just could not walk away from Anna. 

Since New Year's Eve, I've spent every moment possible with her. After 
we talked that night, she has never once questioned me again about my 
parents, the X files, and the danger they could bring into my and, by extension, her life. She is confident that nothing or no one will harm either of us. And with time, I have been able to convince myself the only threat to myself or anyone I love was in Mr. Spender's head.

I guess it's time I admit it to myself. I am in love with Anna. I haven't told her how I feel yet. But I think she knows, she reads me so well already. We
have both been so busy these last eight weeks that there has been little time
to be alone. I want to be with her desperately. Since I vent my sexual frustration through target practice, I've become one hell of a shot. But 
so far the opportunity has not presented itself. Last weekend when she came 
home to help me move into my apartment, we had the time together and the 
privacy, but it just didn't seem right. The furniture had not arrived and the place was a mess. It was just not what I had in mind. I love her and I want 
everything to be perfect for her.

But now, thanks to my Grandma, Aunt Tara, and the Gunmen's wives, this 
place looks perfect. Yesterday afternoon they came over, insisting on helping 
me get settled in before the party that night. They sent Uncle Bill and me off 
to have lunch while they worked their magic. They must have shopped for hours. 
When they arrived, they already had everything, from pots and pans to linens, 
in hand. I could tell it meant a lot to them so I left with Uncle Bill, 
leaving my first real apartment in their more than capable hands.

The afternoon was shocking. My time with my uncle was good, very good. 
We had a nice lunch and really talked for the first time. As he spoke, I could 
tell he really longed to talk to my father. After lunch he asked if I would go 
to the cemetery with him. He claimed it was just a way to pass the time; that 
he had been told to keep me away while the ladies had their way with my new
surroundings. But when we got there I could tell he really needed to be 
there. 

I had always seen him as one of the toughest, most emotionally detached 
men I'd ever known. Of course I know now that just wasn't true. As we stood 
there before their markers, I could hear the sorrow in his voice as he talked 
of how he missed her and wished he had done things differently. How he should 
have supported her in her choices for her life. As he laid the bouquet of 
flowers on her grave, his large weathered and wrinkled eyes moist with tears, all he said was "I'm sorry". As he stood to walk away, he stopped for a moment and placed his hand on my father's marker and simply said "you too". Sure it's not much for some, but for my hard-headed and stubborn Uncle Bill, it spoke 
volumes. 

As we walked away he threw his arm around my shoulder and with a hearty 
laugh said, "Once you get used to having the new, improved Uncle Bill around 
sticking his nose in your business, you might be wishing for the old model back." But I doubt it. I knew things had changed and I was looking forward to getting to know my mom's big brother for the first time in my life.

We all saw the Scully clan off at the airport first thing this morning. 
While it was sad to see them go home, I couldn't help feeling that something 
had changed. Even if they were far away, my bond to my mother's family was 
stronger than ever. 

I had lunch at the Byers' house this afternoon before Frohike and his 
wife left on their trip back to Michigan. Everyone but Anna was there. She had 
gone back to school for the day to meet with a recruiter about a job. While she 
claimed to have no intention of taking a job away from her parents, or me for 
that matter, she reasoned the interview was good experience. 

Standing in the kitchen right in front of me, she had told her mom that 
she would be back tonight but not to expect her because she was going to 
stay at my place. I nearly died of embarrassment. I knew that she and her mom were close and had no secrets but it still took me by surprise. Perhaps they did 
not notice the scarlet blush of embarrassment on my cheeks or my frantic check of the room to locate her dad. More likely, they were just kind enough not 
to draw attention to it. Any way you look at it, I knew Anna was coming over 
tonight and not planning on going home. The prospect was exciting and frightening all at once. 

So I've spent the remainder of the afternoon here in my apartment 
waiting for her to arrive and taking inventory of all the stuff Grandma, Rosie and the others brought by yesterday. The place does look great. Maybe a little 
too good for a bachelor? I was amazed to find that they had not only stocked the 
fridge and cupboards but that the dishes, glasses, and towels in the kitchen 
all matched and complimented one another. 

As I wandered around, I found the rest of the place had been given the 
same treatment right down to the rugs covering the hardwood floors. Each room 
fully stocked and color coordinated. OK, it really did look fantastic. They 
even did a great job of avoiding frills and feminine color schemes. The most 
impressive choice of all being the deep wine and dark green decor they chose for 
the bedroom. Really nice and a huge improvement over the University of 
Southern California print blanket I'd been using up to this point. At first, I 
was pretty embarrassed by all they had done, but they really enjoyed doing 
it and who can argue with one, let alone a room full of women, intent on 
mothering you?

At least now I have a place nice enough entertain a certain young lady. 
A glance at my watch reminds me she will not arrive for at least 2 more 
hours. As I grab the remote and begin running through the TV channels looking for something decent to watch, I hear the knock at the door. 

Everyone has gone home and, regardless of her tendency to drive far too 
fast, it's too early for Anna. I click off the set, tossing the remote on the 
coffee table and head for the door. As I reach for the knob I can't shake the 
feeling I should turn around and leave this knock unanswered. But I shake it off 
as one of my infrequent bouts of unjustified paranoia. 

I open the door to find a well dressed man with salt and pepper hair and
piercing dark eyes. I don't know him but if I had to guess, I'd put him 
in his late fifties, just a few years younger than my father would have been if 
he was still alive. In an instant, it hits me. As he starts to speak, I know 
this is the meeting I've dreaded since the moment I walked out of AD Spender's 
office. This man must be......

"William, my name is Alex Krycek. I knew your father many years ago."

I step out into the hallway with him pulling the door closed behind me. 
I don't mean to seem hostile but I can't help myself. There is something about 
him, as if I can sense an aura of lies and deceit all around him, enough to make 
me want to keep him out of my apartment. 

"Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Krycek?"

To some, his smile must be charming, but as he grins at me all I can 
think of is how to get this man out of my life as quickly as possible. When I met with AD Spender, I knew somehow that he was not a threat. Just as I can tell 
now, looking at this man, that he is nothing but trouble and danger. As he 
speaks, his voice is even and reassuring. But in his eyes I can see all that 
remains unsaid.

"I see you know who I am, William." He leans in a bit, making me uneasy. 
"Now Will, I don't think you really want all your new neighbors hearing what 
you and I have to say to one another. Why don't we step inside so we can talk
privately?" He pauses for an instant leveling his gaze on me, upping my 
level of discomfort at his presence. "I'm not leaving till you hear what I 
have to say."

I step aside silently shoving the door open and allowing him to enter. 
He crosses the room, looking around as he moves to the couch to take a 
seat. Showing more annoyance than I was hoping to, I close the door and sit in 
the chair across from him. I don't see any other alternative but listening 
to what he has to say. But I intend to share little in return.

"Fine, then. Have your say."

He pushes off his heavy overcoat placing it over the sofa next to him. 
His attitude is so warm and friendly that, if not for my gut instinct 
telling me otherwise, I'd think him a dear, old, family friend.

"First off, William, let me offer my congratulations on completing your
training. From what I hear, you're a very bright and talented young man. 
You can be proud, very proud. And I know your parents would be thrilled to 
see what a fine young man you've become. I know I'm quite proud of you myself."

He starts absentmindedly jangling some change in his pocket while he 
speaks. While he seems totally confident on the outside, this gesture tells me a 
bit of nervous energy and tension is hidden somewhere inside. Maybe he does not 
have the upper hand in this meeting after all.

"I do know that you've had a little chat with Jeff. Not to mention all 
the time you've been spending with your dad's misguided friends. So I won't beat 
around the bush here and insult your intelligence. Like I said before, William, 
I'm very proud of what a sharp young man you are. Truly the pride and joy 
and hope for the future for our family."

Even if I knew he was going to say it, my stomach knots at his mention 
of our alleged genetic connection. Before I can say a word to correct him, he
continues on.

"I know you don't believe it. Think your father knew differently? But 
it's true, William. Unlike anyone else who has uttered these words to you, I 
have the proof." He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a long tan 
envelope. 

"In this envelope, William, is the proof that your father, Samantha, 
Jeff, and I are all children of the same man. Products of an experiment done with the noblest intentions -- saving the human race. All raised by different 
parents, but siblings and family just the same, Will. Your family."

He slides the envelope across the coffee table toward me. I can't touch 
it. Something in me tells me, even if he is a man who deals in lies as a way 
of life, that on this, he does speak the truth. As I look at him watching 
my face, as I run over the possibilities in my head, I can almost see that maybe, at one time, there was a good man in him. 

I see a twinge of sadness in his eyes as if it pains him to be here now 
handing out my fate. Or at least what he believes is my fate. Showing me the 
road he thinks I have no choice but to choose. The path others chose for him so 
long ago. But I do have a choice. I push the envelope back to him.

"I don't care what proof you think you have, Mr. Krycek, I don't accept 
it."

He looks at the envelope but leaves it. He runs his hand over his chin 
while gazing out the window for a moment before he turns to me again.

"I gave that same information to your dad a long time ago, Will. He 
opened it, looked at it, saw the truth, but chose to turn his back on it." He 
pauses, leveling his eyes on mine. "Until you were born, Will. But with you to 
protect, he had no choice. He faced up to who he really was, William. For you, 
for what you could do to save us all. He cooperated, did what was expected of 
him, took his place in the family till the day he died......... all for you."

Oh my god! I can feel my stomach in my throat. I'm sure I'm going to be 
sick right here. I keep telling myself this man knows what buttons to push to 
get to me. That somehow he knows that the one burden I can't bear is my father 
giving up everything to save me. That he's playing on half truths to get what 
he wants from me. 

But I don't know what to believe. I've read in my father's own words 
that he and my mother worked with these men, the very men they had spent years 
trying to uncover. Somehow, it was easier to believe that, even though my 
parents worked with them to develop a vaccine, they somehow remained above it 
all. But what if they weren't above it? What if, for the sake of my safety and 
achieving a vaccine, my parents had sold their souls to the devil himself? I can't hear it. I won't listen to another word.

"My father never did anything wrong!"

I can't stop him. The truth, or his version of it, continues to flow 
even as I turn my back, willing him to simply be silent or go away.

"I always admired your dad for his integrity. Even when he found himself 
forced to work side by side with our father, he found a way to justify it. He 
held onto his pride, to his faith that what he did he did for the future. 
Your parents, all of us, only did what we had to do. And so will you. This 
isn't a life any one of us chooses for ourselves. It was just the hand we were 
dealt by forces not even of this planet. No matter what you do, William, you 
cannot deny it. This is who you are. Your future is not your own; it never really was. In time, you will come to understand that and accept it."

A thought crosses my mind. Before I have the time to consider if I 
really want the answer, I ask.

"My dad? Mr. Skinner? Did you kill them?"

He takes a deep breath and turns away. "I suppose, in a way, I did kill 
Walter Skinner. A long, long time ago, many years before his death. But I would 
not harm your father. He was my brother, my only family. Granted, it was not 
your run-of-the-mill relationship, but I looked up to him like any kid 
brother would."

He gnaws on his lower lip and I can see he is sickened by his own 
twisted tale. "What I did to Skinner kept him in check. Insured his cooperation. The same way they used you to control your father after your mother died. It's just how it works, William. They find your weaknesses and exploit them to keep you in check. Until you out live your usefulness or make thing difficult enough 
for them to warrant a well placed accident." 

"You're telling me my father and Mr. Skinner made things difficult and 
were killed because of it?"

"What your father had to do after your mother died was simple. His role 
was to care for you. Take up a normal everyday existence. Play the grieving 
widower and adoring father and he would have lived a long, happy life in peace. 
God knows he tried. But, in time, he began sticking his nose in where it did 
not belong. Chasing down leads on his own, he began to discover plans for a 
renewed attempt at colonization. It cost him his life. In turn, Walter Skinner 
outlived his usefulness in his relentless search to find your father's killers. I didn't kill them, Will, but they were murdered."

As I sit there struggling to absorb and sort out all he has said, he 
rises and begins to slip on his coat to leave.

"That's it? You walk in here, unravel my past, tell me my future is 
sealed, toss out a few thinly disguised threats, and then walk out??"

He reaches down, picks up the envelope, and places it in my hands as I stand to
face him.

"Yes, Will, I've said what I came to say. All the choices are yours from 
here on out. Do what you like with what I've told you and the proof I've 
given you. But don't ever forget for one second that they know your weaknesses. 
Family, all those friends you've made, some old, some with failing health, and 
another young, beautiful, and full of promise. How sure are you that you can 
protect them?"

Even if I'd always felt that I was a threat to Anna, hearing the words 
is like a blow to the chest, leaving me unable to speak. I recover quickly, 
grabbing his arm, spinning him around on his heel to face me.

"THEY know my weaknesses? Or you mean YOU do?"

He pulls his arm out of my grasp with strength surprising for a man his 
age. "No! THEY do, William. I'm just one of many men. You're like the son I 
never had or will ever have. I'll do my best to protect you. But no matter 
what power you think I might have, I'm still just one man and there is just so much I can do. The rest is up to you."

I follow him to the door, unsure of what I should say or do. As he 
reaches for the knob, I stop him one last time. "Why me? Why now? Why not Spender or his children?"

He stops and looks over on the table near the door. "Because of 
everything you know now." He picks up my badge lying on the table, running his thumbs over the black leather cover. 

"Ironically, William, you could have continued your education, perhaps 
spent your days teaching Physiology to pretty coeds at some quiet university, 
unaware of all of this." He holds up the leather case, letting it fall open, 
exposing my badge and identification to me. "But you made this choice, Agent 
Mulder."

He tosses the badge back to the table as he walks through the door. "Now 
you have a lot more choices to make. I suggest you think them over 
carefully, William, for everyone's sake."

The click of the door echoes in my head as I lean against it, holding 
the envelope in my hand. How could my life have gone so wrong so fast? How 
did my father ever live with all of this? What choices do I really have? 

I can hear his threats as if he is still standing right in front of 
me..... my family, the old, the poor in health, and the cruelest blow of all, the one young, beautiful and full of promise. It's too late now. There is 
nothing I can do to protect them, my family, the Gunmen, their families. The reality of it all washes over me. I crumble to the floor against the hard door feeling warm tears stinging my cheeks, Anna.....

They are all in danger now, simply for knowing me. What can I do? Is 
there a way to insure their safety?? I reach up, pulling my weapon from the 
table, taking it in my hand, feeling the cold hard steel against my skin.

* I have to save them! *


To be continued

END PART 12

*************************************************

MY NAME IS WILLIAM part 13/14

It's starting to get dark already.  The setting sun is flooding the room 
with a comforting warm light.  I should get up and close the window but the 
chilly air feels cleansing to me somehow.  I welcome anything that helps wash away the stench that Alex Krycek brought into my life.

I've been sitting on this couch for over half an hour, searching for a 
way out. I don't really remember how I got here.  Somewhere along the line, I 
recall anger hitting me like a blow, resulting in the premature demise of 
several glasses against the kitchen wall.  After the destructive rage ran its 
course, I went through the apartment opening all the windows as wide as possible. For a while, the cool air felt good but now, it's cold in here.  I really don't know what I'm doing.  I do know that I still have my gun in my hands.

In my 24 years, I've never once thought of taking my own life.  But, at 
this minute, it seems like a reasonable choice.  It's just simple logic.  If 
I am a threat to the people I love, then removing myself from their lives is 
the only way to insure their safety.  As painful as it might be, at least I've 
had the chance to be with all of them in the last couple days.  To mend broken
relationships and tell them all how much I love them.  All except for one.  I
have never told Anna how I feel about her.

I put the gun down.  I can't do it.  I won't be the one to hurt them.  
Anna will be here soon.  Even if my death might save her, I can't bear the 
thought of her finding me like that.  Knowing she would feel that she should 
have been here.  That there was something she could have done to stop me.  I love her and I won't do that to her.

*Choices?*  What choices do I really have?  I pick up the envelope, 
flipping it over in my hand before slipping my finger in the seal to tear it open.  First, I have to choose to face the truth.  While no genetic connection alone seals my fate, I need to know for sure.  At that moment I hear her soft knock on the door.  As quietly as possible, I lay the envelope back onto the table unopened.  No noise, not a sound.  I can't see her right now.

She continues to knock, making it difficult for me to fight the urge to 
open the door, sweep her into my arms, and let her chase away my demons.

"Open up agent Mulder, I know you're in there."

The warmth in her voice turns my stomach.  I've already allowed her to 
be hurt.  By letting her care about me, by my needing her, I have put her in 
danger.  I am the one who is hurting her.  I close my eyes, willing her to simply walk away.  Not just from the door but from my life.  Instead, I can hear her turn the doorknob and the heavy wood door begin to slide open.  Damn.  I left it unlocked.

I can see her soft smiling face in the dimly lit room as she slides 
through the half open door.

"Will.  Hey, it's me.  Did you fall asleep or something?  You've got to
remember to lock the door.  In your line of work, you never know what 
sort of sicko might come through an open door."

She looks around the darkened room until her eyes meet mine.  Her smile 
is so beautiful. For an instant, I imagine how it might have felt to see her 
walk through that door tonight to be with me, if Alex Krycek had not gotten 
to me first.

Her smile fades with concern as she crosses to me, lighting the room 
with a single lamp along the way.

"Geez, Will, what are you doing in here?  It's freezing.  Did you cook 
or something? Maybe you thought airing out the place would hide the 
evidence so I wouldn't notice the smoke?"

She starts closing the windows, first in the living room, then the 
bedroom.  I can hear her voice in the next room like a dream.

"Wow, this place looks really great.  I love this comforter.  My mom and 
the others did all this, huh?"   She carries on as if I'm actually holding 
up my end of the conversation.   "God, I only hope I get the same treatment 
when I find a place of my own."  
 
She rounds the corner taking a seat on the arms of the couch next to me,
oblivious to the fact that I have not moved a muscle or uttered a single 
word since she walked through the door.

"If you want to know the truth, I think my mom likes you better than 
me."

With a big grin and a chuckle, she allows herself to slide off the arm 
onto the couch next to me, really looking at me for the first time.  The sudden 
look of shock on her face makes me think that she can read my thoughts after 
all.  But as she reaches down taking my hand in hers, I can see the reason for her alarm.

"Oh, my god, Will, you're bleeding.  What happened to your hand?"

Quickly, she is up and on her way to my aid.  I can hear the water running in the kitchen, the sound of the drawers sliding open and shut one after another
as she searches for what she needs to tend to my injured hand.

"Really, it's no big deal.  I just cut my hand a little when I broke a 
glass." Of course, I know she is not going to buy that explanation.  Not when 
she is standing on the kitchen floor amongst the remains of my newly acquired
glassware.  But since it's at least a half truth; it's worth a shot.

"Yeah, I can see that.  Let me guess.  One glass broke and the rest just 
kind of followed along like a flock of lemmings?"    She walks back in with a 
warm, damp cloth and starts to clean the drying blood off my hand.  Even if 
she can still muster a joke, I can see that she knows that something is wrong.

As she takes my hand softly in hers, tending to the cut, I have to shut 
my eyes against the assault of being next to her.  My heart aches.  All I want 
to reach out to her and let her comfort me.  But I can't do it.  

Krycek already knew where I lived, even though I'd been here less than a 
week.  He knew who I had been spending my time with.   He had probably been 
watching me all along.  There might be someone outside right now.  Someone who 
watched Anna come into the building, who will wait to see when and if she 
leaves, and report back to him.

I look around the room as the thought hits me.  They might have had this 
place bugged before I even set foot in it.  As my eyes wander back to Anna, I 
see that her eyes have found my gun lying on the table before us.

She tosses the damp bloody towel on the coffee table and picks up the 
gun.  I'm amazed at how much she has learned about handling a weapon just by 
watching me these last few weeks.  She takes the clip out, noting that it's fully loaded, and shoves it into her jeans pocket.  She slowly lays the unarmed weapon back on the table.

"What the hell is going on here, Will?  What happened?"  She pulls her 
shoes off, tucking her tiny feet beneath her on the sofa, clearly digging in.  
"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me everything."

I examine my hand.  I can't look into her trusting eyes while I lie to 
her.

"It's nothing, Anna.  I just got a little pissed off about something 
stupid and lost my temper."   She takes my hand in hers, pulling it into the light of the nearby lamp.

"No, Will.  I don't believe that for second.  There has to be a lot more 
to this.  You won't answer the door when you knew I was coming.  I walk in 
here to find you sitting in the dark, every window in the place open wide to the 
cold March air, bleeding with broken glass all over the kitchen, with your 
gun!  Will, that's not nothing!  There has to be a reason you 're sitting 
alone in the dark holding a loaded gun!"  

Taking her attention back to my hand, she doesn't give me a chance to 
speak. 

"This is a pretty deep cut, Will.  We need to stop the bleeding and get 
it bandaged right away.  Keep the pressure on it while I go see if my mom 
had the foresight to stock your medicine cabinet as well."

I sit there wordlessly pressing a clean towel against my hand, feeling 
weak for allowing her to tend to my wound when she really needs protection from 
me.  She walks back in the room, singing her mother's praises, carrying a small 
white first aid kit.  As she deftly goes about cleaning and dressing my hand, 
I take the chance to look at her.  I know I have to break things off with her.  
Now! Tonight!   

But right this minute, I don't want to forget what it's like having her 
close too me, knowing she cares for me.  I'm so engrossed in memorizing her 
face that I have to force myself to listen to her voice as she gives me directions on caring for my hand. Somewhere between watching her amazing green eyes and nodding my agreement to change the bandage daily, she brings my hand to 
her lips.

"Well, if you take care of it and do what I told you, we should be able 
to avoid amputation. To be sure let me kiss it to make it better."

As her lips brush against my hand, my heart sinks.  I wish I could go 
back.  Back to the way this evening might have gone if I'd never laid eyes on 
Alex Krycek.  To hold her in my arms, feeling her body pressed against mine.  
To finally tell her that I love her.  To spend the next 24 hours locked 
away in this apartment showing her just how much.   

Instead I'll hand out as many half truths as I dare to reveal to 
convince her that we can never see one another again.  And I'll say goodbye.

As gentle as it is, her touch against my face startles me from my 
thoughts.  "Will, you still with me?  What's with you?  I'm still waiting for an
explanation on what brought on the sudden urge to purge the place of glassware,
not to mention this."  Her face is filled with discomfort and concern as she
reaches into her pocket taking the loaded clip out and setting it gently 
on the coffee table.

I hate myself for hurting her.  I can already hear pain in her voice as 
she slides closer to me pressing me for the answers she may not want to 
hear.

"What happened, Will?  Please talk to me.  I know something is very 
wrong. I can feel it.  You mean too much to me to see you like this."

I summon all the strength I can, taking one deep breath that must have 
sounded like I was gasping for air. "I can't see you anymore, Anna.  I just 
can't get involved with anyone right now.  It's not fair to you."  I have to look away.  I can't watch her face.  "It's been fun but its over. I'm going to be really busy with work and just don't want to be tied down right now."  

I feel like shit.  Not only am I lying to the only woman I've ever 
really loved but I'm doing a pretty lousy job of it.  Even as I speak, I cringe at my words.  Every sad excuse for ending a relationship comes pouring out of my 
mouth against my will.  I'm pretty sure the only cliche I missed was the  "we 
can still be friends" line.  But we can't be friends; it's not safe for her 
to be near me in any way.

I turn to look into her face, expecting tears or maybe anger.  Instead 
she meets my eye with determination.  "You're lying to me, Will.  I don't 
know why but I'm not leaving here until you tell me the truth."  

I don't believe it will do any good, but I shake my head in disagreement 
and try to look her in the eye with a last plea for her to accept what I say 
and walk out.

"Really, Anna, there's nothing more to it.  The simple truth is, I'm not
interested in seeing you anymore."  

I'm shocked by the strength in her tiny arm as she grabs my shoulder 
forcing me to turn and face her.

"The least you can do, William, is look at me while you lie to me."  She 
pulls my injured hand into hers holding it as tightly as she dares careful not 
to hurt me.  I only wish that I could find a way to not hurt her.   I can 
see the unshed tears in her eyes as she looks in mine and to make her own final 
plea.

"Please, Will, don't do this.  I know you don't really mean what you're 
saying.  You are trying to keep something from me, trying to distance me from 
whatever it is that is really bothering you.  Talk to me!!  You've got to trust 
someone, Will."

I sit there in the deafening silence as a single tear rolls down her 
cheek.  And then I hear the words I've longer to hear for so long.   "I love 
you, Will."  They feel like a knife plunging into my heart.

I'm grateful for the guilty lump in my throat that cuts off the words I 
feel but cannot say.  I have to stop and close my eyes tight against the 
tears I feel building there.  I know I cannot show even a hint of how I really 
feel if I am to make her believe me.

She moves.  I can't breath, waiting for her to stand and walk away and 
out of my life.  But she isn't leaving.  She is moving closer to me, reaching 
out to touch my face. Her hand against my face is so kind and gentle, I can see 
she is thinking only of what pain I might be feeling and not her own.  Her soft 
smile is so uncertain as she speaks.   "I do love you, Will, and that's not 
going to change no matter what you say."

Before I say a word, she brings her lips to mine in a kiss that is 
little more that a peck but still more exciting than the deepest most passionate 
kiss I've ever experienced.  I do what I can to resist but it is more than I can 
manage.  As she begins to pull away, I lose my battle.  I can't let her go  without her knowing that I do love her.  That she is all I really wanted.  

All my feelings are there but the words just don't seem to flow.   As I 
grab her hand, the only word my mind can think to utter is  "Stop".  The look 
of confusion on her face makes me love her all the more. 

For a second, I toy with the idea of trying to explain that I only meant 
I wanted her to stop saying good by, not that I wanted her to stop kissing 
me.   Instead I bring both my hands to her, one against her soft cheek, still 
warm and damp from her tears, the other through her soft beautiful hair until 
it finds the base of her neck and aids me in bringing her back to me.  

I don't say a word, letting my kiss tell her all the love passion and 
desire I simply cannot hide.  As our lips part, I move to whisper in her ear. " I love you, Anna.  But we can't be together."  

I wonder if anything in my life will ever be this painful.  At last, I 
have nothing left to hide as my own tears begin to fall.  "I can't let you be 
with me.  I won't."

I'm shocked when, without thinking, she harshly grabs my injured hand in
frustration and anger, demanding my full attention.  

"Why?"  

I wince from the pain in my hand.  Seeing my physical pain only makes 
things worse.  Her tears fall freely as she collapses against my shoulder 
mumbling over and over how sorry she is, that she never meant to hurt me.   

Feeling all the more guilty that she would worry about hurting me when 
I'm the one handing out the pain, I wrap my arms around her, holding her tightly
against me, searching for a way to make it better.  She returns my embrace so
strongly I start to wish that time would just stop and we could stay here
together like this.  But it doesn't.  

Still shaking from her tears, she asks me to let her in one last time.  
"Talk to me, Will, please?"

As we move apart, I touch her face with my finger tips wiping away her 
tears.  I look into her eyes for what seems like eternity before I can make my
decision.  All the battling with myself comes down to one small whisper. 

"ok"

Maybe my paranoia the last few months has been somewhat justified.  
Still concerned my new apartment might have come equipped with a bug or two, I 
walk over and turn on the television, pushing the volume up to a ridiculous 
level before taking a seat very close to her.  While it is a good excuse to be 
close to her, the truth is she, and only she, needs to hear what I have to 
say.

I put my arm around her, pulling her very close sure that only she will 
hear my voice. Knowing she might think I'm crazy as much as anything, I begin my
explanations in a soft whisper, nodding to the blaring television.

"Listen, this is all going to sound crazy but just hear what I have to 
say before you pass any judgment.  I'm sorry for the noise but I think it 
possible this apartment could have been bugged before I moved in.  I don't want 
anyone listening in on our conversation."

Her eyes do the grand tour of the room and turn to me, filled with concern and
disbelief. 

"What!?"  

I shake my head in disgust at the situation.  I'm not really sure where 
to start or just how much I need to tell her so she will understand that 
she has to walk away.  I decide to go with what she already knows, adding as 
little as possible until I get my point across.

"Anna, do you remember New Year's Eve, when I told you I feared some 
dangerous people from my parents' work with the X files might come looking for 
me?"  

With a soft nod she starts making all the connections, looking at me, my 
hand, around the room until her eyes come to rest on the gun lying on the 
table.

"I gather they have found you?  You talked to someone this afternoon?   
What could they have on you, or your parents, Will, that would you bring you 
to all this?  Have they made some sort of threats you could take to the police 
get some help?"

I take her hand in mine, rubbing my thumb over the soft skin on the back 
of her hand more to comfort myself than her.  "No, they made no threats against 
me, but make no mistake, they have me just as they had my mom and dad."  

Before I can consider my words, I've said more than I should. "They always have and I don't know how to fight it.  All I can do now is protect the people I
care about the best I can."

Abruptly, she pulls her hand away from me.  A look of horror spreads 
across her face. "They never threatened YOU, did they?  It's me, or anyone else you care about, that's in danger."  

Her voice begins to get louder.  I bring my finger to my lips, worried 
that someone will hear her.  "Shhhh!"

She continues, her voice quiet again, but with the same intensity and 
emotion. "You clearly believe that they mean it."  

As the realization hits her, she picks up the gun.  "You were going to 
kill someone to stop it, even if that someone had to be you."  

Tears begin to cloud her eyes again.  "I don't understand why you would 
believe one man's threats so completely that you would consider suicide 
necessary."

I take the gun from her, setting it down on the table.  "Anna, you have 
to trust me.   I can't tell you why.   I'm sure these people mean what they 
say.  I have to do what they want or find a way to fight them alone.  If I 
don't, I'll be forced to watch them take the ones I love."

"Proof, Will.  What proof do you have?  How can you be so sure these are 
not empty threats?"

I can't hold back anymore; something has to convince her.  "Because they 
killed my parents, Anna!  They killed my mom just to prove to my father they
ultimately had control of his life and had since the day he was born.  
Just like me Anna, I'm no different than my father.  They have me just the 
same."  

I can feel the tears of pain and anger running down my face.  Even 
though I know I should lower my voice, I can't.  "I'll fight them just as he did 
and in the end, it may cost me my life as well.  But I'll do this alone, Anna.   
I'm not going to watch you die because of me... I just can't."

I'm not sure when, but at some point we had both gotten to our feet.   I 
look at her face and I can't stand the painful image of someone hurting her 
to get to me.  "I just can't, Anna.  I need you to know how much you mean to me 
but you have to leave.  I may be forced to relive my father's worst nightmares but not what happened to my mom... not ever."

She wraps her arms around my waist her voice soft against my chest.  "Do 
you blame your father for what happened to your mom, Will?  Do you think you 
mom blamed him?"  

Shocked by her questions, I pull back, still held in her embrace, while 
I look down at her face.

"No. NO, of course not."

"You've talked about them often, Will.  How true, complete, and perfect 
their love for one another was.  My parents and the others talk about them as 
if they were two parts of a whole, utterly incomplete and lost without one 
another. If their souls belonged together, Will, wouldn't the real tragedy have been if they'd never found each other?"

She reaches up to touch my face gently and I wonder if she is the piece 
that could make me whole.  "I'm sure your mom didn't want to die, Will.  But 
I'm also sure she would not have wanted any other life if it meant being 
without you and your dad."   

She hesitates for a moment, both us standing there wrapped in each 
other's arms, the silence broken only by the droning of the television.  "I'll 
leave if it's really what you want.  But I understand the risks of being together and I still don't want to be without you, Will."

I watch her eyes, amazed to see that she understands.  She is still 
unwilling to leave my side even if it could cost her life.  "I can live without 
you, Anna, if that's what it takes to keep you safe."  Even though she tries 
to hide it, I can feel her shaking in my arms, trying to stifle her sobs.  I 
rest my chin on the top of her head, absorbing the feeling of holding her, aware 
this might be the last time we will be together like this.  "I'm sorry, but 
you have to go."

She looks up nodding her agreement but instead of stepping away, she 
begins to pull my T-shirt free from the waistband of my jeans.  With her eyes 
intently focused on mine, she runs her hands across my stomach and up my body 
across my chest.
 
"I won't go yet, Will, not until I feel your body against mine."  Her 
hand swiftly moves down, pulling on the buttons of my jeans.  "I love you and
there's no guarantee I'll ever love anyone else.  I won't miss the chance to
make love to the only man I might ever love."

It's a blessing for my self control when the last button on my jeans gives way.  She turns her attention back to my shirt, using both hands to push it up, her
lips spreading tiny kisses across my skin along the way.  Even though we 
shut the windows over an hour ago, the room still feels chilly against my 
bare skin. The warmth of her lips on my chest creates the most incredible heat and desire spreading through my body.

Feeling my control slipping away, I grab her firmly by the shoulders. "NO,
Anna.  Stop.  We can't do this."  

She stands her ground, her hands on me, pulling her lips from my skin 
only for an instant.  "You said Will,  that all you could do now was to protect 
the people you loved. That you could live without me as long as you knew I 
would be safe.  You can protect me and know that I'll be safe by making love to 
me.  I can't leave until I know that you really did love me.  I need to feel in 
my heart, my soul, and body what we meant to one another."

As she tugs my T-shirt over my head and brings her lips back to my skin, 
I  no longer resist.  More kisses, strong and demanding, rain over my shoulder 
and along my neck to my ear.  "Show me, Will."   She brings her hips hard 
against mine, pinning the ever growing evidence of my desire between us.  

As she pulls back just a bit, I'm embarrassed for a second.  It quickly 
turns to something I know I can no longer fight.  Slowly, painfully slowly, 
she slides one hand down my body through the barrier of my jeans and boxers 
until she takes me firmly in hand. 

"You do want me?"

I'm lost.  My head is swimming with thoughts of how desperately I want 
her.  Of how she looks and feels in my arms, the smell of her skin.  Of how she 
could still want me in spite of everything.  Even if my father could have 
found the strength to let my mother go, she would not have left his side, no 
matter the risk.  She loved him.

I look down at Anna, her eyes closed, her head resting against my bare 
chest, clinging to me, to what we could have together.   *And know she loves me*

I reach down pulling her face up to mine.  Threading my fingers through 
her hair, bringing her lips back to mine. One kiss after another, so gentle 
and tentative at first but quickly becoming urgent and filled with need.  My 
senses are overloaded with her, with the taste, the feel of her. 

I tear my lips from hers to catch my breath, unwilling to leave 
altogether, teasing her soft neck with the tip of my tongue.  While one of her hands tangles in my hair, the other moves between our tightly pressed bodies, 
our clothing the only obstacle between us.  I can feel her hand on me again 
through the denim, holding me, stroking me.  I can't stand another second.  

I reach down, lifting her to me in one swift move, astonished that my 
lips never leave hers for an instant.  I am grateful, and incurably aroused, 
as she wraps her legs around my waist to aid me relocating her to the bedroom.  
As I lay her gently on the bed, I think how pleased I am to have spent the 
last couple nights on the couch, saving this bed for the best possible debut.

The light filtering in through the open door is perfect.  Darkness would 
never do.  I need to see, to touch, to taste every perfect inch of her.  She 
lies there watching patiently as I walk over and turn on the stereo, setting 
the volume to match that of the TV.  This in one moment I have no intention 
of sharing with Alex Krycek.  

She smiles, pushing herself up to a sitting position.  "Hmmm, do really 
think that it's loud enough?"   She laughs a bit as I raise my eyebrows and 
turn the volume just a tad higher.

"Oh yeah, that's better.  I plan on getting pretty loud."

Standing there, not quite sure why I'm still all the way across the 
room, I watch breathlessly as she reaches down and pulls her sweater over her 
head.  She tosses it to the floor, motioning with her index finger for me to 
join her.

I am sure that I'll never find anything more incredible than this woman 
and this moment.  I walk back to her, stopping only to shove my jeans to my 
feet and kick them away before sitting down on the bed next to her.  I look 
at her face while my hand, which feels like its shaking but isn't, starts to 
work on the button and zipper on her jeans.

"I do love you."

Her face is so sweet it melts my heart and all my fears.  She reaches up 
to the cross hanging around my neck and takes it in her fingers. " And I love 
you."

Our arms wrap around each other we stretch out together on the bed.  

END PART 13

*************************************************

MY NAME IS WILLIAM Part 14/14

I don't know when we fell asleep.  But it was after midnight when I woke 
up.  I've been lying here watching her for at least 20 minutes.  

I'm not a guy to kiss and tell but there is no sex that can hold a candle to making love to a woman you love for the first time.  Real ecstasy is out 
there for those fortunate enough to have the chance to bring their bodies, 
hearts, and souls together all at the same time with that one special person who 
can hold your heart like no other.  

I reach over, brushing her blonde hair away from her face, careful not 
to wake her. * Like her*

Just as I decide to pull her into my arms and go back to sleep, I hear 
the phone ring.  As quickly as possible, I jump up to grab it, hoping not to 
wake her.  Jesus, its nearly 12:30.   I can't imagine who might be calling 
here at this hour.

I press the receiver to my ear and am surprised to hear a totally unfamiliar voice on the other end.  At the same time, I hear a noise behind me and turn to
see Anna sitting up, pulling the sheet up over her breasts, just enough 
to be a temptation.  I can't help but smile at her while still trying to give my
attention to the midnight caller.  

From the look on her face, I'm guessing that I must appear surprised at the caller's question.  Or she could be reacting to the fact that I'm standing here
naked as the day I was born with my body giving away the secret that I 
was thinking of doing more than just looking at her. 

"Yes, this is Agent Mulder."  I smile back entertained at my first real
exchange as "Agent Mulder."  I listen intently to the voice on the phone 
for no more than minute or two before he hangs up unexpectedly.

She reaches over grabbing the clock on the night stand to get a better 
look.  "Well that's some job you've got, Will.  Who the hell is calling "Agent 
Mulder" at 12:30 on a Sunday morning?"

Puzzled, I put the phone down.  "I don't know.  He didn't say.  He just 
said he needed to speak to me right away and I should meet him at the Tidal 
Basin at 1:00 sharp."

Quickly, I grab my clothes and start to dress.  I go into the other room 
to get my gun, ID, and jacket.  As I come back to grab my holster off the 
dresser, I see Anna sitting there watching me.  She has concern written all over 
her face.  "You're going, Will?"

I haphazardly stuff my badge and ID into the inner pocket of my jacket 
before sitting on the bed next to her.  "Well, yeah, of course I am."   I've 
been thinking she is worried about my safety but when she speaks I see her 
sadness comes from another source.

She sits up completely, suddenly a great deal more modest, pulling the 
sheet around her naked body carefully.  "Listen Will, I said I would go.  If 
it's easier for you, I'll be gone before you get back."

I can't help smiling at her, which I imagine seems cruel at the moment.  
"I don't want you to leave."  I take her hand in mine.  "I don't want to be
without you for even a hour.  But it's still just as dangerous to be 
with me as it was 2 hours ago."   My eyes wander to the phone wondering if things were about to get worse.  "But I can't make you go.  And I can't ask you to sstay.  I will understand if you leave."

I watch the clock, knowing I have to get moving but fearing she might be 
gone when I get back, unwilling to rush our good-bye.  She takes my other 
hand in hers, weaving her fingers in mine.  "I'm not leaving, Will.  Whatever 
happens we'll face it together."

I don't know what to say.  I close my eyes briefly and squeeze her hand.  
I get up and slip my coat on with a grin.  "So how do I look?"

She gives me a devilish smile, letting the deep green sheet fall away.  
"You look great, of course.  Not as good as you looked 15 minutes ago, but
appropriate for the occasion.  Please be careful."

I lean over, giving her a deep kiss.  "I will, I promise."  She looks so
incredible sitting there naked in my bed, playfully blowing me a kiss 
good bye.
 
I turn around to snatch a last look on my way out the door.  "Don't move 
a muscle, hold that pose.  I'll be back as soon as possible and will pick 
up where we left off."  I smile hearing her soft laugh in the bedroom as I 
pull the apartment door closed behind me.

========================

I sit, looking around the Tidal Basin, waiting for this mystery man to 
show.  It's 10 after one now.  As pretty as the Jefferson Memorial looks at 
night, there is somewhere else I would rather be.  I'm starting to feel a 
little ridiculous lurking in the shadows underneath the cherry trees.  I've 
made up my mind to give him until 1:15 and then I'm out of here.  Hell, I'm not 
even officially on the job, yet let alone been assigned to any cases.  I 
can't imagine what the hell this is about.

Maybe I shouldn't even be here.  But things are different now; I have to 
do what I can to be sure Anna is safe.   I've read enough about my father's 
life to know that trouble or aid can be around any corner and sometimes it 
hard to tell which is which.  It's best if I hear this guy out and decide for 
myself.
 
Just as I'm ready to leave, a man approaches me.  On the surface, he 
appears to ignore me.  But as he starts to walk past, he nonchalantly takes a seat on the bench next to me.  Without looking at me, he starts to speak.

"Agent Mulder."

I look at it him, expecting to recognize him.  Even in this poor light, 
I can tell I've never seen this man before.  

"Yes, I'm Agent Mulder.   Do I know you, sir?"

He looks at me with a smug smile.   "No, Agent Mulder, we have never 
met.  But I know who you are, we all do."   My stomach tightens, certain this man is connected with Alex Krycek, that he is here to offer more threats.  And 
then my stomach drops.  He has possibly lured me here to get at Anna.  My heart 
begins racing as distrust rears its head.

"What do you want?  A little, late night rendezvous to make a few more 
threats to keep Fox Mulder's son in check?"

He grabs my arm, meeting my eye for the first time.  "We are not the 
threat to you, William. We can help you with the X files, help you find the 
Truth."  

"I'm afraid you've made a mistake, sir.   I'm not my father.  I have no
connection to the X files project."  

His wide smile makes me very uncomfortable.  "Agent Mulder, there are 
people who believe in you, who believe in the cause, and who can help you with 
your work on the X files."

I can't help myself.  I find myself laughing at this man, wondering if 
there is anyway possible to set him straight.  "Really, try to understand. I work in violent crimes, not the X files.  Perhaps it's someone else you have in 
mind or maybe you have me confused with my parents."

Laughing, he stands up and reaches under his coat.  Almost by reflex, I 
reach for my gun.  He pulls out a large manila envelope, making me feel just a 
tad silly.

"No, Agent Mulder, you are the one who is mistaken. You are the X 
Files."  He lays the envelope on the bench next to me and turns to walk away.  I 
reach out and stop him, taking the envelope in my hand.

"Who are you?   And what is this?"  

He doesn't even turn around.

"I'm a friend. Agent Mulder.  And that's information pertaining to a 
case.  An X file that I suggest you get to work on right away."

THE END???
( no really that's it I'm done <g>)

***  Thanks to a practical joke and my very dear friend Rosie there is 
an alternate ending to this story.  If you want to read the Rosie Chapter drop me a line :0)  


AUTHORS NOTES :  Hope you take the time to read this .  I want to thank 
a few people for all there help and support in writing this.  Hard to believe 
what started out as one little letter from a dead Mulder blossomed into all 
this :0) My personal brand of full disclosure <g>  First I want to thank My 
husband Mark or all his support and understanding.  Next I need to thank the members of O3P for their support and encouragement, especially Meg and Mary Ann for the editing ( no Small task lol ). 

Pamala
Proud founding member of O3P ( Over 30 Philes )
http://members.aol.com/XayanFay/O3Phome.index.html
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