Mother Love

By bellefleur
bellefleur1013@yahoo.com


DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: sure
RATING: PG
CLASSIFICATION: V
SPOILERS: Beyond the Sea, Sein und Zeit, Closure, Within
DISCLAIMER: Not mine; they belong to CC, FOX, etc.
SUMMARY: A Mother's Day visit


* * * * *
* * * * *

Somehow, he had expected rain.

After all, that's how it worked in the movies: cemeteries
were always shrouded in rain as the heavens wept along with
the mourners.  But not today.  This day was bright and
fresh with spring, the Raleigh sun beating down a foretaste
of the summer's heat and humidity.  

The field of grass and granite stretched beyond him in all
directions, dotted with colorful bouquets.  The landscaped
shrubs were in full bloom, and each puff of wind brought a
shower of blossoms from above.  Everywhere he looked, the
signals were contradictory: this place was too vibrant to
be a site of mourning.

It was, in fact, the perfect setting for Mulder's
ambivalence.  

For the first Mother's Day in nearly a decade, he had felt
the compulsion to visit his mother.  He couldn't explain to
himself what force drew him here; he only knew that this is
where he needed to be.

Scully had invited him to join her and her mom for brunch
that Sunday, but he politely declined and explained simply,
"There's something I have to do."  She accepted his excuse
without question, perhaps understanding, or simply
respecting his need to open up to her in his own time.

The bond between his partner and her parents was one that
he often envied and would never fully understand.  He
recalled her words shortly after her father's death, when
he asked how she could know his posthumous message: "He was
my father."  He wished he could say the same of his mother,
that their biological connection was enough to elucidate
her thoughts and impulses, but it was not.  Her final words
on his answering machine still haunted him, like a riddle
he had yet to unpack, and her ghostly appearance in
California had done nothing to bring clarity.

Had she really loved him?  He couldn't remember the last
time she told him so.  He had no doubts that there remained
a Samantha-sized hole in her heart all these years, but had
that rupture bled out what love remained for both of her
children?  Is that why she felt the need, as her final act,
to obliterate all memories of them?

Mulder resolved to shove aside his self-pity and finish his
errand.  He bent to place the bouquet before the headstone,
propping it up slightly against the depressions in the
granite.  The roses were pink--his mother's favorite.  
Every year he remembered that detail, but only after the
holiday had passed.  This, of all years, was the one time
he got the date right, and yet he was still too late.

He lingered for a moment, the same magnetism that drew him
here preventing him from leaving.  His heart ached, and yet
he wasn't fully sure why.  Was it loneliness at being the
last of the Mulders?  Was it anguish from being forever
uncertain of his mother's affection?  Or was it the pain of
his loss, knowing that he would never again have the chance
to say the simple words, "I love you, Mom."

So he whispered those words into the wind to be carried
away with the blossoms.  And with it came release, opening
the windows of his heart to receive the warmth of the sun,
and the dawning realization that this was the purpose of
his journey.  This truth he had sought, and finally found.  
For all his doubts about his mother's love for him, he was
assured of this one thing: his unconditional love for her.

She was his mother.

* * * * *
* * * * *


Notes: I know, this story is a little melancholy for this
joyous occasion, but Happy Mother's Day to all the moms and
mothers to be!


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