By Vickie Moseley
vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com
 

Summary:  It's 2012.  William Vande Kamp knows
more than his parents think he knows.  He's about to
embark on an adventure that will change his life forever.

Category:  Mytharc, Williamfic, pre and post colonization

Rating: E for everybody

Disclaimer:  Well, it got pretty darned hard to make
it sound like something a 12 year old kid would buy
into, but I made him psychic, so that helped.
Otherwise, I sure don't intent to infringe on that
mangled mess that was S8 and S9 and don't even
want to infringe on the good stuff in S1 through S7.

Archive:  yes

Undying Gratitude: to Lisa for beta and pictures and
general 'you can do this' encouragement.  To
DanaKScully for unconditional support and
enthusiasm, even when it meant waiting a little
longer for another story I was working on.

Author's notes:  this is a series.  It's not really a
WIP, because I plan on keeping it going for a while.
I bow to DonnaH, who has blazed one heck of a
trail before me with both After the Future and
Goodbyes/Hellos.  I take a slightly different route.
This is part one of I don't know how many.  The
first section, Resistance 1 has five parts.  I'll post a
part a day for one week.  The story and Lisa's
wonderful artwork are available at my website
http://vickiemoseley.freeservers.com

~~~

Resistance 01:  Knowing
by Vickie Moseley

Nebraska, 2012

I am not who they say I am.

I remember when I first realized that I wasn't the
son of the people I called 'Mom' and 'Dad'.  I was
five years old and had just come down with a bad
cold.  That night, I had a dream.  I dreamed of a red
haired lady with blue eyes who smiled at me, even
though there were tears on her cheeks.  I knew it
was a dream because it was the first time I'd ever
seen the color red.  I was born red-green colorblind.

I dreamed of that lady often after that night.  Later,
about a year later when I turned six I had another
dream.  This time I dreamed of a man.  He was tall
and had dark hair and his nose was too big for his
face, like mine, but on him it looked good.  His eyes
were what made me remember him.  He had eyes
that were brown and green and had yellow flecks.
I'd never seen eyes like that before so I had to ask
my mom if they were real, if anyone could really
have eyes that were so many colors.  She said they
were called 'hazel'.  The man had hazel eyes.

Of course, I didn't tell Mom about the dream.  She
doesn't like me to talk about my dreams.  There
have been times when my dreams came true and
that upset her.  I knew when Granddad Wilbert was
going to have a heart attack because I saw it in a
dream.  When he died in the hospital, my dad told
me never to tell my mom about my dreams again.

But the man in my dreams, he seemed larger than
life.  He was like a superhero or something, Bruce
Wayne just waiting for the right moment to slip
away to the Batcave and become Batman for the
night.  For a while I thought that's what he was, but
a little later, I found out more about them.

When I turned seven, my parents told me I was
adopted.  My mom and dad, the ones who raised
me, sat me down and explained it to me one day just
after my birthday.  I got the feeling my dad wasn't
too happy about telling me, that he thought it would
just confuse me.  He kept asking me if I had any
questions.  My mom just kept telling me that they
loved me more than anything on earth, more than if
I'd been born to them, because I'd been given to
them.  She said I was a gift from God.

I only had one question:  Who were my real
parents?  My dad got a funny look on his face and
my mom had to swallow a couple of times.  Then
she told me a lie.  I think it was the first lie she ever
told me, but the minute the words were out of her
mouth I knew they weren't true.

She said my mom died when I was born and that
my dad had died in prison, he'd been executed for
killing a soldier.

All the while she was telling me about how that
didn't mean I would grow up to be a criminal, I
knew she was lying.  I knew that wasn't what had
happened to my real parents.  It was that night that I
dreamed about the red haired lady again and this
time the tall man was with her.  They were standing
in a bedroom, the lady was in real pretty pajamas
and the man had on a dark jacket that looked
expensive, but sort of worn out, too.  It was leather,
I could smell the leather in my dream.

The woman had a blanket all bunched up in her
arms and she was standing there looking at the man
with these soft, soft eyes.  He smiled at her as she
handed him the bunch of blankets and he folded one
edge back.  There, in all those blankets, was a baby.
At that moment, I knew that baby was me.  That red
haired lady with the soft blue eyes and that man
who was tall and handsome and larger than life
were my parents.  The ones who had given birth to
me.

I wanted to know more about them, but knew I
couldn't talk to my mom and dad.  I was pretty sure
they didn't know any more, and had made up that
story about my real parents being dead just so I
wouldn't try to find them.  I was mad at first, but
after a little while I calmed down.  Besides, I didn't
really need their help to find my parents.  I just
started thinking about the man and the lady every
night before I went to bed.  I even prayed,
something I did only when mom made me.  To my
surprise, it worked.

I not only dreamed about them, I could actually hear
them talking.  I could see them go about whatever
they were doing.  It was neat, like spying.  I saw my
father, my real father, come home late from work,
hanging up his jacket by the door.  I saw my
mother, my red haired mother, scooping up
something on to a plate and putting it on the table so
he could eat.  They would talk about their day.  My
dad worked construction, but he was like a boss.
He talked about 'his men' and how things were
going at the 'job site'.  My mom was like a doctor or
something, but not a real doctor.  She would say
things like 'if they'd just checked the hemoglobin'
and 'it was . . .' some long word that I couldn't
remember when I woke up but I remember it
sounded like they talk on the medical shows my
adopted mom watched.

One night, I saw her, my little sister.  She had to
have been a baby, maybe three years old.  She had
red hair in braids like girls like to wear and a button
nose, and my dad called her 'Peg of my heart'.  My
mom laughed when he called the baby that.  My dad
picked the baby up and put her on his shoulders and
told her she was taller than he was and she giggled
and hugged his head.  And that was when I heard it
for the first time.  Even though she never moved her
mouth, I heard my mother say my name:  William.
And then she said another name:  Emily.  She was
saying them in her mind, not out loud, but I could
hear her all the same.  She was calling out to me, to
us.  I knew also that wherever Emily was, I
wouldn't be able to find her.

It went on like that for years.  I lived with my
adopted parents, all the time waiting for each night
when I would get to spend time with my real
parents in my dreams.  When I was little I never
thought to try and figure out where they lived.  But
as I got older, I grew curious.  I didn't want to just
see them in my dreams, I wanted to meet them, I
wanted to let them know me like I knew them.  But
I had to wait a long, long time.

I met Gibson on the internet about a year ago.  I
found a blog about government conspiracies.  My
adopted dad, Hank Vande Kamp, is as conservative
as they come.  He was devastated when Bush got
impeached and was forced to resign back in 07, but
even after that, he's never believed that the
government could ever hide something from the
people.  I'm not like that at all.  I have never trusted
the government, even when my teachers at school
tried to tell me how great our country is and how we
have a 'free and open society' governed 'by the
people'.  It sounded to much like those talk show
guys my dad always watches who rant and rave
about 'liberals' ruining the country.

I don't know how I found this blog.  I was cruising
different sites and found it.  I came back and by the
end of the week, I was there every day.  I just
always liked the kind of posters this blog had, they
were funny most of the time.  There was a lot of
talk of aliens, the kind in space ships, not the ones
my adopted dad always complained about who
worked on our farm.

I was nervous about posting any comments to the
blog until one day I finally took the plunge.  I was
real surprised when I got an email from Gibson, the
moderator.  He said he knew me.  Then he gave me
his IM and I looked him up.  He said he knew my
parents, my real parents.

I guess I should have been suspicious, but from the
first time we chatted, I knew Gibson was on the
level.  When I told him about my dreams, he told
me I was dead on with all of it.  My father's real
name is Fox Mulder and my mother's real name is
Dana Scully.

That was a bad summer.  My adopted mom was
sick and my dad was very worried about her.  The
crop dad put out in April had to be replanted in May
because of some heavy rains.  Nobody in my house
was in a good mood.  When Gibson told me that
everything I'd dreamed was true, it made me mad.
If they were alive, if they went ahead and had
another kid, why did they give me up?  Why did
they sell me to some hick farmers in Nebraska like I
was a used John Deere tractor?  I blocked Gibson
from my buddy list after that and blocked all his
emails.  If they were so happy without me, they
could just stay happy without me, because I sure
didn't need them.

I didn't dream about them for a long time, a couple
of months.  I didn't sleep well, either, but nobody in
my house was sleeping well.  My mom was
diagnosed with cancer, but the doctor said it was
curable.  My dad had to take out loans to pay for the
medical treatments and with the crop so late, he
wasn't sure how much he'd get for the wheat and
corn he'd planted.  I just wanted to curl up and die.

The first really bad dream came one night after my
mom got back from her second week of chemo.
She was sick, real sick.  Dad made dinner, which
meant we had frozen pizza, and he'd burned it.
Mom couldn't eat anything, she went to bed the
minute we got her in the house.  When I was falling
asleep, I still heard her throwing up in the bathroom
next to my bedroom.

At first, I didn't know that it was a dream.  There
was a bright light all around me.  I could make out
people's faces but it was no one I recognized.  Then
I saw this guy, he was big and had a square face and
he stared right at me.  I was so scared I almost
pissed on myself!  Then it was like we were all
floating up and I looked up and there were lights
above us, like Christmas tree lights and this big
door that we were floating up into.  The next thing I
knew I was strapped into this chair and my hands
were held down and my arms hurt bad.  Something
was pulling at my cheeks so I couldn't move my
head.  There was a machine just above me and it
was shiny and there was a buzz saw like Granddad
Wilbert used to have only smaller and right as the
buzz saw was about to cut me open I saw my
reflection in the metal and I realized I wasn't me, I
was Fox Mulder, my real dad.

I woke up screaming.  My dad came in and tried to
get me to quit crying.  He slapped me across the
face.  It was the first time he'd ever raised his hand
to me.  I was so shocked, but not as shocked as he
was.  He hugged me and cried and told me he was
sorry but mom had just fallen asleep and he didn't
want me to wake her up.  I finally quit crying and so
did dad.  He got me a glass of water and told me
he'd sleep in my room if I wanted, but I told him to
go back to mom, in case she got sick and needed
him again.

I didn't sleep for the rest of the night.  When I was
pretty sure dad was asleep, I got up and turned on
my computer.  I unblocked Gibson and wasn't too
surprised to find him online.  We chatted until the
sun came up.  He told me pretty much everything I
wanted to know about my real parents.

He told me that my mom and dad were once FBI
agents.  They worked on really hard cases, cases no
one else wanted to work on.  My dad's sister had
been 'abducted' when she was 8 and he was 12, and
I knew what that meant because there were
'abductees' who commented on the blog all the time,
but unlike those people, she was never returned.
My dad found out years later that his own father had
been a part of a conspiracy within the government
to keep the existence of extraterrestrials from the
public.  My dad found out his sister had died when
she was just 14 years old, 8 years after she'd been
taken from their home.

My mom had her problems, too.  She had been
abducted because she worked with my father.  Her
sister was murdered because she and my dad had
gotten involved in trying to expose the lies of the
government.  She was given cancer and almost died
as a way to hurt my dad.  She was told she would
never have children.  Gibson told me that when my
adopted mom said I was a 'gift from God', she didn't
know the half of it.

Finally, he told me a little more about my dream.
When my mom was pregnant with me, before she
even knew she was pregnant, my dad was abducted.
He wasn't abducted by the government, as my mom
had been.  The aliens abducted him.  The dream I'd
had was a real memory from that time.  He was
tortured, mutilated.  When he was returned, they
thought he was dead.

That wasn't the end of the story.  My mom had to
bury him but then three months later my dad's old
boss from the FBI had his body exhumed.  My dad
was alive, but an alien virus was using his body as a
host.  My mom, who really is a doctor, treated him
and cured him.

Then I was born.  My dad had quit the FBI.  Gibson
said he was afraid that the aliens would try and
come after him and maybe get me, too.  My dad left
my mom because it was too dangerous for all of us
for him to stay.  He lived with Gibson in the desert
for a year trying to find out more about the
government's involvement with the aliens so he
could come home to us.

During this time, people tried to get me away from
my mom.  Gibson wouldn't go into detail but he
said that it was obvious that I would never be safe,
that the aliens wanted me dead or just to experiment
on.  I was a miracle, in more ways than one, but one
they never expected.  I scared them.  So my mom
did the only thing she could think of to do -- she
gave me up for adoption.  She reasoned that if I
weren't with her, I would be safe.  She didn't even
want to know where I was because she figured if
she didn't know, the aliens and anyone working
with them would have a hard time finding me, too.
Gibson said it was the hardest thing he'd ever heard
anyone do.

The part my adopted parents told me about my dad
being executed was almost true.  My father broke
into a government facility to find out the aliens'
plans.  While he was there, he killed an alien
replicant, a 'Supersoldier' Gibson called him.  But
you can't kill a supersoldier with bullets or by
hitting them or tossing them off cliffs and so the
'man' got up and walked away.  Still, they had a
trial, a military trial without a real judge or anything
and convicted my dad.  They were going to execute
him when Gibson and my parent's old bosses and
some friends helped him escape.

My parents were forced to go underground, to be on
the run.  Gibson said I was always in their thoughts
and in their prayers.  They never gave up on the
idea that one day we would find each other.  They
only hoped that I would remember them when it
happened.

All that happened years ago.  Since then, my
parents, and my little sister, have moved around a
lot.  They never stay in one place more than a
couple of years.  It's hard on my sister, Gibson said.
He said she knows about me, that my parents talk
about me all the time to her.  I knew this was true
because I'd seen it in my dreams.

Gibson told me so much that night, and I knew in
my heart that all of it was true.  The only thing he
wouldn't tell me was where they were.  "It's not
time yet, William."  When I asked him when it
would be time, he said just one thing:  "We'll
know."

~~~

Resistance 1.02:  Finding

Nebraska
November 27, 2012

I've heard them say in movies that some moments
change your life forever.  I guess that's the case.  I
think whatever happens is what is supposed to
happen, so how can that be a change?  But I do
know that when I woke up that morning, things
wouldn't be the same when I went to bed that night.

Gibson had been telling me more and more about
the aliens and their conspiracy with the government.
Not just the American government, I learned -- it
was a conspiracy with men in high places all over
the world.  He said there were even people in the
UN involved in it.  I didn't want to believe that, but
then I felt he was right.  I've always been good
about telling when someone is lying.  My parents
stopped talking about Christmas presents around me
when I was really little.  Sometimes I guessed what
they were thinking about and as a little kid, I would
blurt it out that I knew.  I figured out real quick that
was a bad idea.  But Gibson and I had a different
relationship.  He didn't have to explain everything
to me, I could hear him talking in my head.  It was
great because I'm not the fastest typist and it sure
made our conversations online a lot easier.

That morning, back in November, I had been online
with Gibson about half the night.  I had to get up to
go to school.  I was in high school, a freshman.  I'd
skipped some lower grades.  I was the youngest kid
in the school, but I was tall so no one bothered me
much.  Still, if I weren't awake for my Algebra I
class, I'd be in trouble.  The teacher was also my
P.E. instructor and he'd make me pay when he got
me in 5th hour.  So I dragged my butt out of bed
and headed for the bathroom to clean up.

While I was in the shower I had my first 'waking
dream'.  I later came to think of them as visions, but
whatever it was, it scared the piss out of me!  I was
standing there, letting the hot water wake me up and
rinse my hair when all of a sudden, I was lying on
my back looking up at a ceiling and the room was
moving.  There was I guy I'd never seen before
leaning over me, putting something over my face.
He strapped it on and I struggled but then I realized
I could breathe with it on, so I settled down.  He
started taping something to my hand and I looked
down to see an IV.  I knew about those, mom had
those to give her the chemo.  I wanted to pull it out
but there was a strap across my chest.  I couldn't
move.

Then she came into view -- my real mom, Dana, as
I thought of her.  She was looking so worried and I
think she was going to start crying.  She tried to
smile at me and she reached up to touch my
forehead.  She whispered to me.  "Mulder, hang
on."

Suddenly, I was back in the shower.  I'd never left.
And I knew that wasn't so much a dream as a
connection.  My mom had called me Mulder.  I was
him again, going through what he was going
through.  Before it had been what he'd lived
through, but now I was certain that it was what he
was living through at that moment.  He was hurt,
sick, I don't know what but he was in terrible
trouble.  And my mom was begging him to hang on.
I knew all about what that meant.  I'd begged my
adopted mom to hang on several times during her
cancer.  Thank God it was finally in remission.

I jumped out of the shower, not even bothering to
dry off, just wrapped a towel around my waist and
ran to my computer.  There was an email from
Gibson with a high priority.  It said two words.

"It's time."

I went ahead and got dressed like always.  Before I
left my room, I dug the money I'd saved baling hay
that summer and shoved it in the pocket of my
jeans.  Then I went downstairs and ate breakfast and
kissed my adopted mom goodbye.  She never
suspected that my book bag was not loaded with my
books but with my clothes nor that it would be the
last time I'd ever see her.

When I got to the bus stop, I rode the bus to school.
There was always a crowd scene at the drop off
doors, especially from the rural buses.  It was easy
to slip away.  The interstate was just three miles
from the high school, so I started walking.  I had to
get to Weed Hope, New Mexico.  After that, who
knew where I'd end up?

It took me a little over two days to get there.  I
caught rides with truckers on I-80 and I-76 and then
took a ride with a guy hauling alfalfa all the way
down US 85.  I walked the last ten miles, but I
didn't care.  When I got there, Gibson was waiting
for me.  He drove me to El Paso, where my parents
were living.

Del Sol Medical Center
El Paso, Texas
December 1, 2012

Gibson parked the car in the visitor's lot and offered
to go in with me.  I wanted him to, but then I knew
it wasn't his family up there.  It was a little kid thing
to want him to hold my hand.  I had to be grown up
about what I was about to face.  I thanked him and
told him I'd email him when I got the chance.  He
smiled at me, patted my shoulder and told me it
would be OK.  I knew he really wasn't sure about
that part, but I couldn't consider it a lie, either.  He
just wanted me to know that whatever happened, I'd
be OK.  That sort of scared me a little.

As I walked up the sidewalk to the big white L-
shaped building, I'd never felt more alone.  What if
they didn't want me here?  What if my mom would
be mad that I'd left my adopted parents?  She sent
me away to keep me safe and I'd been having this
prickling feeling for a while that something was
going to happen, something really big and bad.
What if my coming here was a dumb idea and I
should have stayed back in Nebraska?  How mad
was Mr. Timmons going to be about my skipping
Algebra?  Man, I was a mess!

When I got to the information desk, I almost turned
back.  Then I realized going back was not an option.
So, in my deepest voice (which tended to crack a
lot), I asked what room Fox Mulder was in.  For a
minute I thought the lady might not find him, that if
they were on the run they might have used different
names.  But she found F. Mulder and then she asked
if I was immediate family.  I'd been to the hospital
enough with my adopted mom to know that wasn't a
good sign.  I told her yeah, I was his son.  She gave
me the room number and said it was in the Intensive
Care Unit on the fourth floor.

The ride up was the scariest ride I'd ever taken.  I
didn't know what to expect.  Usually, when I'm
going to get in trouble for something, I know.  I get
this feeling; the hair on the back of my neck stands
up.  Jerry Rankin, one of my friends from grade
school used to say I had 'spidey sense'.  I think it
was more than that.  But while I was in that
elevator, I had this really bad feeling and the urge to
just stop on any floor and run as far and as fast as I
could.  Then the doors opened and I saw her sitting
there.

Her hair was still in braids.  She was wearing jeans
that had sewing on them, like some of the girls at
my high school wear, except her shirt wasn't five
inches above the top of her pants.  She had on a
sweatshirt with little bears holding hands and she
had old red sneakers on her feet.  When she looked
up and saw me, it was like I was just coming home
from school, not at all like we were seeing each
other for the first time.

"Hi, Will.  I'm glad you're here," she said, standing
up and chewing on her lip at the corner.

"Hi, Peg," I answered.  "You knew I was coming?
How?"  I thought about it a moment.  "How do you
even know who I am?"

She smiled at me and she looked a lot older than
eight years when she did.  "I have dreams, too," she
said and then I knew for sure I was where I was
supposed to be.  She reached for my hand and
pulled me over to the chairs where she'd been
sitting.

"Mom's back there," she pointed to a door that said
'no admittance except during scheduled visiting
times'.  "They let her stay longer because she tells
them she's a nurse practitioner.  She's really a
doctor, though."

"Yeah, I knew that," I said, even though I'd just
figured it out.  "How is he?" I asked and almost
regretted it.  Her face sort of screwed up and I
thought she was going to cry.

"He's hurt real bad, Will.  The doctor told us that
he's holding his own but they keeping thinking that
he's dying.  That's why they let Mom back there
with him so much.  She won't let me go back
because she doesn't want me to see him all hurt like
he is, but I know.  I can see what she sees."  She
choked up a bit, but still didn't let the tears fall.
"He's got a big tube down his throat and all these
wires on his head.  They told Mom he's in a coma.
Will, I'm scared."

I don't know what made me do it, but I reached over
and hugged her.  "It's OK, Peggy.  I promise.  It's
going to be OK."

She sniffed a little and pulled back, then wiped her
cheeks on the sleeve of her shirt.  "I'm just glad
you're here."  She grabbed my hand and didn't let
go.

We sat there for a few minutes.  It was like she'd
been my little sister all my life.  I thought back to
those times when I'd wished I could live with my
real parents, be part of my real family.  Now that I
had that wish, I really wished it could have been a
better time.

"Peggy, how did you know about me, really?"  I
asked finally.

"Mom and Daddy have talked about you all my life.
They have a picture, but you were a baby.  When I
got older, I could see you in my dreams.  I saw you
working on a farm one time.  You were wrapping
wire around a bunch of straw and throwing it into
the back of a truck."

"Baling hay," I said absently.

"I saw you riding your bike.  And I saw when you
won a track meet.  You ran really fast and got a
ribbon."

"The 100 meter dash.  I got first place," I said.

"How did you know to come here?"  It was her turn
to ask the questions.

"Gibson told me where you were, but I've dreamed
about you all my life.  First Mom and Dad and then
you.  I remember I saw you when you were about
two or three.  Dad had you on his shoulders and told
you that you were taller than he was.  You laughed
and laughed."

At least I got her to smile at that.

"Peggy, who's Emily?" I asked suddenly.  If she
knew about me, she had to know about Emily.  I
still didn't know who this Emily could be that would
make Mom cry out for her when she was supposed
to be happy with her husband and daughter.

Peggy looked down at her shoes.  "Emily was Mom
and Dad's daughter but I think they adopted her out,
too.  When we lived in San Diego for a while we
had to go to the cemetery every week and Mommy
would cry every time and Daddy would cry
sometimes too, but he'd hide it so Mommy couldn't
see him.  We always brought white carnations, even
in wintertime.  She was only three when she died.  I
did the math from her tombstone."  Her bottom lip
trembled and this time the tears did fall.  "Will, I
don't want Daddy to die," she cried suddenly.  "I
don't want to have to go to the cemetery every week
to put flowers on his grave.  I want him here, with
us!"

I pulled her over to hug her again.  It took a while
for her to stop crying.  I just petted her hair, sort of
like I used to do Shep, our collie.  It always worked
for Shep.  It seemed to work for Peggy too.  Maybe
dogs and little sisters weren't that much different.
We were quiet, just sitting there when my stomach
had to go and make a noise that almost shook the
windows.  My stomach is loud when I'm hungry.

Peggy laughed a little and then she started laughing
a lot.  "When Daddy's tummy does that Mom says
we have to feed it before it attacks," she giggled.
Then her stomach made a rumble and I pointed to it.

"We better hurry, they might attack each other," I
said and her smile got bigger, then just left
completely.

"Mom has the money," she said soberly.

"No problem.  I have $10 left from my bus ticket to
New Mexico," I told her.  "Let's go find the
cafeteria."

"Wait a minute," she said and ran over to a phone
on the wall.  She punched in three numbers.  "This
is Peggy Mulder.  If my mom looks for me, tell her
I went to the cafeteria with my brother."

As she was hanging up, it hit me.  This wasn't a
dream.  I was really here.  For a minute, I thought I
was going to start crying.

We found the cafeteria, since Peggy had been there
before.  We stood in line, looking at the food.  She
turned her nose up at the casserole on the hot line,
and I couldn't say I blamed her.  It looked like the
stuff they served at my high school.  Peggy
managed to find the dessert table and immediately
picked out a big brownie with frosting.  I shook my
head.

"You have to have something healthy," I told her,
putting the brownie back.

She frowned and looked at me.  I got the strong
impression that she was thinking maybe this big
brother thing wasn't that great a deal and it made me
laugh.  "OK, how about this.  You can have the
brownie, but only if you promise to eat something
else that's healthy."

She pursed her lips and wrinkled her nose and it
was really cute, but I also realized it would get
really old some day when I'd seen it more often.
"OK, I guess.  But not that stuff," she said pointing
to the casserole.

"Not that, for sure.  Besides, I don't know that I'd
qualify that as 'healthy'."

She laughed.  She went back and picked up a made
up sandwich in plastic wrap.  It was cut in half and
was filled with chicken salad, from the looks of it.
She then picked up the brownie and added that to
our tray.

We got our drinks and I saw an apple, which I
grabbed for the tray.  Peggy looked at it like it was
evil.  "That's for me," I assured her.  We passed a
case that contained little containers of yogurt.  "Has
Mom had anything to eat today?" I asked.

She shook her head.  "She has the nurse bring me a
sandwich or gives me money to come down here.  I
don't think she's had anything since they brought
Daddy in the ambulance."

"Let's get her something.  Let me see," I said,
looking over our choices.  Raspberry, raspberry,
strawberry-banana, more raspberry.  Finally, I spied
the right one and put it on the tray.  Peach.

"That's Mom's favorite," Peggy said with a big
smile.  It made me feel kind of proud.

"Yeah, I know," I said.  I was about to get me a
sandwich when figured I'd better add up our
purchases.  We were right at $8 and another
sandwich would be $3.  No way.

"I can only eat half of that sandwich, Will," Peggy
said and looked at me.  "And you can have half the
brownie."

I smiled at her.  She was something -- I knew that
for certain.  "I'll split the sandwich but the brownie's
all yours.  I'll have the apple for dessert."

We sat down and started eating.  She tore into the
sandwich and had the brownie polished off before I
could finish half my apple.  When we were done,
she gathered up all the plastic wrap and stuffed it
into her cup, all neat and perfect.  I shook my head
again.

"How did Dad get hurt?" I finally had the courage
to ask.  I didn't want to upset her again.

"He works construction.  He's lots smarter than that,
but it's easy to find jobs when we move.  He was
working on the third floor of an office building
they're putting up and he just fell off.  Uncle Petey,
he's Daddy's friend, told Mom that Daddy grabbed
his head like it hurt real bad just before he fell."

I closed my eyes.  I'd seen three story buildings.
They were building a new parking ramp at the
hospital where my adopted mom got her chemo.  It
was three stories and it was a long way to fall.  I
opened my eyes and looked at Peggy.  "How bad is
it?  You said he was in a coma."

She shook her head up and down.  "He's got broken
ribs and a broken arm and a big cut down his leg.
What's a spleen?" she asked out of the blue.

I had to think for a minute.  We had some anatomy
in 8th grade.  "Umm, it's an organ.  I think it fights
infections or something."

She nodded again.  "Well, Daddy doesn't have one
anymore.  They lost it.  But what everyone's really
scared about is the coma.  They say they don't know
what's causing it.  That he's dying."  Her bottom lip
started to tremble again.

I closed my eyes and tried to see my Dad again, to
feel what was going on with him.  It hit me right
away.  I knew what was happening.  "Peggy, he's
not dying," I said, convinced I was right.

"But the doctors say -- "

"I don't care what the doctors say, he's not dying.
They're affecting him."

"They -- who?" she asked.

Boy, how to explain?  "Do you know about the
aliens?" I asked.  Her eyes got big and she nodded
really slowly.  "OK, the aliens are making him sick.
Well, really he's thinking about the aliens and that's
making him sick," I tried to make her understand
and from the look on her face, I wasn't doing a very
good job.  Just then it was like a light bulb went off
above her head.

"Strawberries," she said with a knowing grin.

"No, strawberries have nothing to do with it," I tried
to reason.  I figured she was confused, because she
was confusing me.

"Yes, they do.  My friend Becky is allergic to
strawberries.  Daddy's allergic to aliens," she said,
and crossed to arms to show I didn't need to try and
explain any further.

"OK, yeah, sort of like that."  It was probably the
easiest way to explain it after all.

At that moment, we heard the doors open behind us
and I turned around to see the lady from all my
dreams.

"Oh my God!  William!"

~~~

Resistance:  Holding On

December 1, 2012
Del Sol Medical Center
El Paso, Texas

"Oh my God!  William!"

I don't know who ran faster or got there first but
suddenly I was in my mother's arms, my real
mother, for the first time since I was a baby.  We
were crying and holding on for all we were worth.
She's a couple of inches shorter than I am, not much
but it felt weird.  My adopted mom is taller.  Still it
felt so right, like I was finally home.  Then I felt
another pair of arms go around both of us, right
about our waists.  I looked down and there was
Peggy, hugging us with tears running down her
cheeks too.  It was a great family reunion but one
person was missing.

"I want to see my Dad," I finally choked out, wiping
tears and my nose on the sleeve of my shirt.

Mom either wasn't going to ruin the moment or
didn't notice because she was wiping her own tears
so she didn't call me on the 'sleeve as tissue' action.
"William, I'll see if I can get you back there, but you
have to understand -- "

"He's hurt bad, I get that, but he's not dying, Mom."
God, it felt so normal calling this woman Mom.  In
the back of my mind I could faintly remember the
words to a really old rock tune about a bullfrog
named Jeremiah.

"William, I know it's hard.  It's hard on all of us,"
she kept talking, but she wasn't really listening.

"Mom, it's like the rock.  The rock from the ship.
The rock you had to go far away to understand," I
told her, gripping both her arms for a minute to get
her attention.  At that point I was just touching on
memories that Dad was remembering too, in his
coma.  "They're getting closer.  He feels them.  It's
happening."

I finally broke through to her.  I could see all the
little puzzle pieces fall into place in her mind.  "Oh
my God," she whispered.  She looked up at me with
fear in her eyes.  "How can we help him?  William,
we have to help him!"

"I know, Mom.  I know.  That's why I'm here.  I
think I can help him.  But the broken bones, all that,
it's going to slow us down.  We have to get out of
here.  We don't have much time."

"Out of this hospital?" Peggy chirped up.

"No, Peg.  Out of this town.  Someplace far away.
We need to get someplace we can hide, where we
can bring others," I said.  I felt so much older than
12 when I said that.  Like I was setting the course of
world events, like my civics teacher talked about in
class a few weeks ago.

"Gibson will help," Mom said.  "He has friends."

"Yeah, I know.  I'm one of them," I said proudly.
She sort of chuckled at that, not a real laugh, just a
smile and a half.  She was so pretty when she
smiled.  "First though, we have to get to Dad."

"Come with me.  I'll get you in to see your father."

"Wait, Mom.  Will got you something," Peg said,
holding up the yogurt and a spoon.

She smiled again when she took the yogurt.
"Thanks, Will.  Bug, did you help him pick out the
flavor?" she said with a wink to Peggy.

"Nope.  He knew.  He knew to get peach.  And
Mommy, he had to hunt to find it!" my little sister
said proudly and then she smiled at me and I saw
Mom's smile on her face.  I almost lost it then, for
the fourth of fifth time that day.

"You knew?  You knew my favorite flavor is
peach?" Mom asked, her voice cracking.

"I know a lot, Mom.  But now's not the time to talk
about it.  Let's go see Dad."

We rode the elevator to the fourth floor again.  This
time I wasn't nearly as scared.  Mom would look at
me over the top of the yogurt container and she
would smile but tears would still be leaking down
her cheeks.  I understood the feeling.  I wanted to
cry again, too, but not in front of Peggy.

When we got to the waiting room where I first saw
my sister, Mom stopped us.  "Peggy, sweetheart,
you need to stay here," she said, her hand petting
Peg's hair.

"But Mommy," Peg whined.  "I want to see Daddy,
too!"

"Margaret Christina, please, not now," Mom said
sternly.

"Mom, I think she can help," I said, biting my lip.  I
wasn't sure, but I had the impression Peggy and I
were more alike than our parents could ever
imagine.  I was worried a little that she might get
too scared at the sight of Dad all sick and banged up
to really help, but she seemed like a tough little kid
from what I'd seen of her already.  I was pretty sure
she was made of stronger stuff.  "Let her come, too.
Please."

Mom nodded finally and Peggy tossed me a big
smile.  "It's not pretty, sweetheart.  But remember,
under all those wires, it's still Daddy under there,
OK?  He loves us and needs us right now," Mom
explained to her.

"I understand, Mommy.  Let's go.  Let's hurry."

The nurse looked up when we filed in that door with
the sign.  "Mrs. Mulder.  I'm sorry, only one -- "

"This is our son, William.  He's been away at school
and just made it home.  Please, may we see his
father?  Please?"

I was totally impressed; Mom could lie like a pro.
But I knew why she was doing it.  Any other
explanation would have caused a ruckus.  Here is
our son, the runaway.  We adopted him out when he
was a baby and he just decided to come find us
today.  Not a good idea.  But I could also tell Mom
wasn't happy about lying to the woman.  She just
knew it had to be done.

The nurse looked me over and then looked at
Peggy.  She sighed and nodded.  "It's probably just
as well that the children have a moment with their
father," she said and I could tell she was thinking it
would be our last time to see him alive.  I knew
better, but this woman didn't.

"Thank you," Mom whispered.  "Come on, kids.
He's over here."

He was lying in the second cubicle.  There were
walls on the sides and in the back, but the front was
completely open.  There was a glass folding door
thing off to the side, so I guess they could have
closed it, but since you could see right through it,
there didn't seem to be much point.  Dad was in a
bed with the head up a little.  Peggy was right; he
had a big tube down his throat and lots of wires
coming off his head, ones on his cheeks and all over
his forehead.  I could see little streaks of grey hair
right at his temple.  I never noticed the grey hair in
my dreams.

His left arm was in a cast and his left leg was all
bandaged and propped up on pillows.  He wasn't
wearing a gown, so I could see bandages all over
his chest, along with another tube going to a
machine somewhere under the bed.  Mom was
right; maybe it wasn't good that Peggy should see
all this.  This didn't look at all like the man in my
dream, my Superman Dad who was going to come
someday and rescue me from dying of boredom on
the farm.

I felt rooted to my spot by the door.  Mom walked
around me and went close to the bed.  She picked
up his hand, the one not in a cast, and petted it.  She
had a smile on her face when she spoke.  "Mulder,
look who's here," she whispered but I could hear
her.  "It's William, Mulder.  He found us.  He found
you.  He's here to see you.  Won't you open your
eyes, Mulder, please, for William?"

He didn't move, but I could hear him.  He was
caught in a dream, a nightmare.  He was reliving the
torture they'd done to him on the ship.  That was his
greatest fear, that he would be captured again.  No,
not just him, all of us -- Mom, Peggy, even me.  I
wanted to tell him that he had to stop fearing them;
it was getting in his way.  It was like a big rock in
the middle of the road and unless he moved it, it
would stop him from going forward.  I knew we
needed him.  Not just our family, but also the whole
human race.  In just a few days, maybe sooner, the
aliens were going to come and try and take the
planet away from us.  I knew we'd need my
Superman Dad then, as never before.

I realized I hadn't moved.  OK, if I expected him to
make a change, I had to, too.  So I stepped over to
the bed.  Mom moved out of the way so I could be
closer to the side without the casts.  I picked up his
hand and held it close to my face.  It was cold, like
he'd been outside or something.  I looked over at
Mom and she was just smiling.

"Talk to him, William.  He can hear you."

I closed my eyes.  Holding his hand it was easier.
After a while I could see him, standing on a beach.
There was a sandcastle shaped like a space ship and
he was smoothing out the edge.  He turned and
looked at me.

"I knew you'd come," he said as he smiled at me.  "I
should have waited for you, but I figured we could
do the detail work together."  He nodded to the
sandcastle.

"Cool ship," I said.

"Do you remember helping me build it?  You were
little then."

I thought hard.  I could remember the feel of sand
running through my fingers.  I could remember the
feel of his fingers as I held on for dear life, taking
steps toward Mom.  I could remember kicking the
sandcastle because I was mad at him.

"Are those my memories?" I asked.  "I've only been
to the ocean one time when I was six and I stepped
on a jelly fish.  We never got around to building a
sandcastle and my other Dad wouldn't have built a
space ship.  A tractor, maybe, or a silo, but
definitely not a space ship."

He smiled again and shook his head.  "It was before
you were born.  Before you were even conceived."

That was confusing.  "How could I have memories
from before I was conceived?"

"They're the memories of your soul," he said with a
knowing smile.  He looked up into the sky.
"They're coming, William.  I've seen it in my
dreams.  There is nothing we can do."

"No, Dad.  I don't believe that."  I couldn't let him
think like that.  He would give up and then he
would die and we would be lost.  I would be lost
more than anyone.

"They will fire bomb our cities.  We'll all die trying
to fight them.  Your sister, your mother, you . . . "

"No Dad.  We'll fight.  And yes, some of us may
die, but we can't let them have our planet!  We have
to fight them.  We need you to help us.  You're the
only one who understands them!"

"I don't understand them.  They killed me, William.
How is it possible that I could understand them?"

"You were with them.  You know more about them
than any of us.  You know about their hybrids, the
Supersoldier things Gibson told me about.  You
know how to spot them.  Dad, you know how to kill
them.  Only you!"  I was out of breath, if that was
possible in a vision.  "You have to come back."

"I'm hurt.  I can't help.  I would just slow you
down," he said sadly.

"You honestly think you can slow Mom down?" I
asked.

He blinked and then shook his head.  "It's easy to
see who your mother is," he said with a smirk.

"Not to mention my father.  Not every kid my age
goes around building spaceship sandcastles before
they were conceived!"

"Maybe more than we know," he said mysteriously.

I reached out my hand to him.  "Dad.  Come back
with me."

He hesitated.

"Dad.  Please.  Please come back with me.  Mom
needs you.  Peggy needs you.  Dad, I really need
you now."

He stared at me for a full minute and then slowly
grasped my hand.  Suddenly, I was back in the
cubicle in the ICU.  I was exhausted, but he was
still grasping my hand.  When I looked over, Mom
and Peggy were asleep in a chair near us.  I looked
back and saw my dad blink his eyes.  His hazel
eyes.  They were as beautiful as they'd been in my
dreams.

He struggled against the tube in his throat and the
sound he made woke Mom up right away.  "Mulder,
Mulder, hold on, sweetheart.  Let's get the doctor.
Oh, love, you scared me bad this time!" she said,
hurrying to the door to wave over a nurse.

I started to sway and Peggy pushed the chair under
me so I wouldn't fall on the floor.  "How long was I
like that?" I asked her.

"About four hours.  Mom tried to get you to sit
down, but you wouldn't.  You didn't say anything,
either.  You just stood there with your eyes closed,
holding Daddy's hand.  When we couldn't get you to
sit down, we sat down to watch and I guess we fell
asleep."  She stepped over closer to the bed.
"Daddy?  Daddy, it's me, Peggy."

His eyes fluttered open and he tried to smile around
the tube, but it was too hard.  He waved his hand
and she grabbed it.  I saw him squeeze her hand and
she leaned over and kissed his fingers.  "Thank you,
Daddy.  Thank you for not leaving me," she said
with tears down her cheeks.  Dad let go of her hand
long enough to brush the tears from her face and
poke her nose.  That must have tired him out
because he closed his eyes again until the doctor
came in.

The nurse came in, followed by a doctor.  He
looked around at all of us and shook his head.  "OK
folks, visiting hours are over.  Mrs. Mulder, if you'd
take the children out to the waiting room, I'll call
you when we've weaned your husband off the
ventilator.  It shouldn't be more than a couple of
hours.  Why don't you all use the time to get
something to eat and rest a bit?"

Mom didn't look too happy to be tossed out of the
ICU, but Dad squeezed her hand and winked at her
and she smiled and winked back.  "I'll be back.
When the vent comes out, try not to antagonize the
nurses, Mulder."

If it was possible to look innocent with a big old
white tube down your throat, my dad did a good
imitation.

Mom squeezed his hand again.  "I don't buy that for
a minute.  Just play nice until we can get you home,
for once."  She leaned over and kissed the side of
his mouth, the only part she could hit.  "I love you,"
I heard her whisper and he blinked twice, which
was some sort of sign between them, I guess.  She
smiled at him again and then helped me out of the
chair and we all left Dad with the doctor.

I was really tired when we got to the little lounge
area.  Before Mom could object I grabbed the
closest sofa-looking thing and lay down.  I knew
she wanted to talk, she had about a million and one
questions to ask me, but she also realized I was too
sleepy to answer any of them and make any sense.

"Peggy and I are going down to the cafeteria.  Do
you want us to bring you something back?"

"We'll get you a ham on whole wheat with
mustard," Peggy offered and I gave her a 'thumbs
up' sign without opening my eyes.

"Don't forget -- "

"Orange Crush," she finished my sentence before I
could get the words out.  I was still so wiped out
that I couldn't pry my eyes open, but I couldn't let
her have the last word.

"You're OK, squirt.  For a bratty little sister," I said
just as I figured they were about to get on the
elevator.

I heard her giggles as I drifted off to sleep.  Hours
later, I awoke to my sandwich, a can of Crush and
my freshman class picture on CNN Headline News.
There was an Amber Alert out for me.  My adopted
parents had reported me as being kidnapped.

~~~
 

Resistance  04 Keeping

Hours later I awoke to my sandwich, a can of
Crush, and my freshman class picture on CNN
Headline News.  There was an Amber Alert out for
me.  My adopted parents had reported me
kidnapped.

Mom was sitting, pale and with a really unreadable
expression, staring at the report on the television
screen.  Peggy was over in the corner of the room,
as far away from us as she could get, reading a
book.  She would glance up at me, chew on her lip
and then go back to the book, but I knew she wasn't
really reading it.  She was hiding behind it.

"I want to know everything," Mom said in a voice
I'm pretty sure she'd used before, maybe when she
was with the FBI.

I sat up and tried to wipe the sleep out of my eyes.
"Can I eat -- "

"Eat and talk," she demanded.  I swallowed and
took a bite out of the sandwich.  What do you do
when your mother tells you to talk with your mouth
full?  I chewed twice, swallowed the lump down my
throat that wasn't only the bite of sandwich and
started.

"I've known about you all my life," I explained.

"Your parents told you," she asked, softening her
tone for a split second before going back to a really
good imitation of 'Bad Cop'.  I kept wishing the
'Good Cop' would show up and save me, but then I
realized he was still in ICU.  I was very much on
my own.

"No, they told me you died when I was born and
that Dad was executed in prison.  That he'd
murdered a soldier and was put to death by lethal
injection."

She shuddered when I said that and I regretted
telling her at all.  "So why did you come to believe
anything different?"

"My dreams," I told her.  She cocked her head.
Geez, this woman was a hard case!  This woman,
my Mom.  "All my life I have had these dreams.
First they were about a lady with red hair.  I could
see the red."  She nodded.  "No, you don't
understand, I could tell it was red.  I can't see red
when I'm awake.  I'm red-green colorblind."

That made her bite her lip but she nodded for me to
go on.

"That lady was you.  Later, I saw this man with dark
brown hair and hazel eyes.  I didn't know what
hazel eyes were; I had to ask my mom about them.
My other mom," I added quickly.  I already
considered this woman to be my mother; it was hard
to speak of the woman who'd raised me.

"So I just dreamed about him for a while.  And then
I could see things.  Every day life kind of things,
like you making him dinner when he came home
late.  And then I saw her," I pointed to Peggy, who
hid behind her book again even though I knew she
was listening.  "I saw Dad pick her up and put her
on his shoulders and call her 'Peg o' my Heart'.  And
I heard you, even though you didn't say a word, I
heard you call out for me.  For me and Emily."

Tears were coming fast from her eyes now and I
wanted to go over and hug her, but I wasn't halfway
done with my explanation yet.

"I met Gibson on the internet.  He told me he knew
me, that he knew you, too.  I wanted him to tell me
where you were, but he said it wasn't time.  And I
started having nightmares, nightmares from Dad
about the time the aliens took him and tortured him.
Gibson tried to explain those to me.  Then, a couple
of days ago I was in the shower and I had this vision
while I was wide-awake of being in an ambulance
and you were begging me to hold on.  But it wasn't
me, I knew that.  It was Dad.  I was seeing it
through Dad's eyes.  That had never happened
before unless I was dreaming.  So I had to get to
you.  I knew, I knew Dad was in trouble.  So I got
on line and Gibson had emailed me.  He just said it
was time."

OK, by this time I was crying again and it was hard
to talk around the sandwich so I gave up and just
started sipping the Crush when my throat would
close up.

"So I took my baling money and I got a ticket to
New Mexico to meet up with Gibson.  And he
drove me here to El Paso.  And you know
everything else."  I decided not to go into the part
where Gibson told me all about my mom and dad's
life before and after I was born and how she put me
up for adoption to keep me safe.  She already knew
all that and it still hurt that they didn't keep me.

Mom looked up at the television.  The reporter was
back on.

"Twelve year old William Vande Kamp was
believed to have been taken from outside Cornland
High School at just a little after 7 am on Thursday
morning.  Police say no ransom demands have been
made but a search of William's computer files have
determined that he had become involved with
extremists who believe in the existence of
extraterrestrials.  One man, Gibson Praise of Weed
Hope, New Mexico, is being sought in connection
with William's disappearance.  Again, if anyone has
seen this boy, please contact the Cornland Nebraska
Police Department, the Nebraska State Police, or
the FBI.  Those numbers are appearing at the
bottom of the screen."

Mom had a hand to her mouth and was just staring
at the television.

"Mom.  I had to come.  Dad needed me.  You saw
that.  He woke up for me.  I had to come here," I
said and hated that my voice kept cracking and it
sounded all whiny.  "Please, Mom, say something."

"We have to call them," she said evenly.

"No!" I cried out.  "No, they'll take me back!  Mom,
I don't want to go back there!  This is where I
belong now.  Like Gibson said, it's time.  They are
coming, Mom.  Dad knows it, we talked about it."

"He had a ET tube down his throat, William," she
spat out.

I was really scared now.  I expected her to believe
me but she didn't.  How could I make her believe?  I
had to get her to understand.  "No Mom, we talked
on a beach. Our minds connected. We talked on a
beach right next to this big sandcastle.  I helped him
build it.  He told me that I helped him build it,
before I was even conceived.  Mom, he said they
were coming.  That's why he fell at the construction
site.  He got a jolt, a shock, something from them
and he fell and got hurt.  Mom, you have to believe
me!"

"William, those poor people, those people are
worried sick about you!"

"Mom, yeah, they were nice to me, but I don't
belong there!  You know that!  Even Peggy knows
that, for Christ's sake!"

"William!" she shouted and I shut up, realizing I
probably stepped over a line there.  It got real quiet,
with just the reporter droning on about $100 a barrel
oil prices and $6 a gallon gas.  Sometime during our
talk both Mom and I stood up and I realized she
probably thought I was a hard case and needed to go
back to the farm if that was how I acted.  I sat down
and silently ate my sandwich, which tasted really
dry and was hard to swallow.  I'd emptied my Crush
already.

She paced a little bit, but said nothing.  A nurse
came to the door; we were the only ones in the
lounge at that time of night.  She smiled at us.
"Mrs. Mulder, you can go back and see your
husband now."  Peggy got up, wide-eyed and
staring at first Mom and then me like we might
burst into flames.  Mom took her hand and smiled at
her and then reached over and held her hand out for
me.

"Let's go see Dad," she said.  "We'll discuss this
later."

I started breathing again.  I took her hand and
smiled at her.  We walked to the door, the three of
us.

"You look just like that boy on TV," the nurse said
with a smile and a shake of her head.

"Really?" Mom said, sounding casual but surprised.
She looked at me, as if trying to compare.  "I don't
really see that much resemblance.  Must be the
haircut.  William, I told you to get it cut when you
were home a few weeks ago."

"As soon as we know Dad's OK, Mom.  I promise!"
I said, for benefit of the nurse.  That was too easy.  I
knew the next person would be harder to convince.
And the person after that.  But then, maybe the
aliens would get here and save me from going back
to the farm.  Talk about being between a rock and a
hard place!

There was a light on in Dad's cubicle now, a light
behind the bed.  He still looked pretty gruesome;
you could see the bruises on his face that were
hidden by the tube and the shadows before.  It made
my cheeks hurt to look at him.  But Mom was
smiling and ran her finger across his forehead.  He
opened his eyes and did a sort of half-smile, half-
grimace.  Mom found a cup on the tray table and
fed him something.  I figured out after a minute it
was crushed ice.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him.

"Like I should have watched that first step," he
croaked out.  I couldn't believe he could joke at a
time like this, but Mom seemed to take it in stride.
She just smirked at him and shook her head.  He
looked over at Peggy and gave her a smile.  "How's
my Peg-leg?"

"Fine, Daddy," she said with a giggle.  "Daddy, did
you see who's here?  It's William!"

Finally he looked over at me.  He reached out his
hand and I stepped forward to take it.  At first I
thought he was just shaking my hand but then he
tugged a little and before I knew it I was hugging
him and crying just like I had with Mom.

"Son, I've missed you so much," he whispered in
my ear.  "God, you have no idea how much I've
missed seeing you grow up."

"It's OK, Dad.  I'm here now.  It's going to be OK."
I really believed that, when I had his arms around
me.  Even with the edge of his cast sticking me in
the back.

When he let me go, I stood up and walked to the
door so I could wipe my eyes.  Mom took my place
by the side of the bed, holding his hand.  "Mulder,
you need to get some rest.  I'm going to take the
kids home for the night and we'll be back again
tomorrow, OK?"

"Scully, how did William get here?" Dad asked, but
his eyes were already glazing over like he was
really doped up.  I knew it wouldn't be long before
he was out like a light.

"I'll tell you tomorrow, when you've had some
sleep."  She leaned over and kissed him first on the
forehead and then on the lips.  "I love you.  I'll see
you in the morning."

" . . . love you, too," he muttered and was asleep
before our eyes.

"OK, you two, we're going home.  And William, we
will finish our discussion from the lounge."  I
suddenly knew what the criminals must have felt
like when Mom took them into custody.  It wasn't a
very good feeling.

We walked out to the parking lot and Mom led us to
an older minivan, but one in good condition.  It was
a lot newer than the pick up truck we had on the
farm.  Mom unlocked the doors and Peggy got in
the back, strapping herself in her seatbelt.  I sat
down and after Mom stared at me, I put my own
seatbelt on.  I was never that good at remembering
to do that.

It wasn't a long drive to their house.  It was in a
neighborhood of small houses, some of the cars
were pretty old, but none of the houses looked in
bad shape.  Mom pulled the car into the driveway
and under a carport.  We all went in the back door.

It was funny, I recognized the kitchen.  I'd been
dreaming of it for a couple of years.  "How long
have you lived here?" I asked Peggy, hoping Mom
was far enough ahead that she wouldn't turn that
'bad cop' routine on me again, at least for a while.

Peggy thought for a minute.  "I had my sixth
birthday here," she said.  "That was two years ago."

"Your room is that way," I told her pointing down
the hall off the kitchen.  "And Mom and Dad's room
is on the other side.  The bathroom is there, and the
TV room is there," I said, pointing to doors.

"Where do I keep my diary?" she challenged with
her arms crossed in front of her.

I thought hard for a little bit.  "I have no idea," I
admitted.

"And we're going to keep it that way," she said in a
huff and hurried down the hallway to her room.
"I'm going to feed 'Tribble', Mommy," she called
out over her shoulder.

Mom appeared out of nowhere with a blanket,
pillows and some sheets.  "We can make up the
couch in the TV room," she said, heading in that
direction.

That room was the room I remembered best.  I
could see Dad, lying on the couch with the remote
in his hand, watching TV.  Mom would be curled up
at the end of the couch with his feet in her lap.  She
was always reading a book.  Sometimes Dad would
have Peggy on his lap and Peggy would be reading
to him.  It was a happy place, a place with good
memories, even if I only saw them from afar.

"William, I don't want you to take this the wrong
way.  God knows I'm so torn right now.  I've
thought of you every day since I gave you up.  I've
prayed for twelve years that we would find a way to
get you back with us."  She had been pacing, but
she stopped and sat down on the couch.  She
motioned for me to sit down beside her.  "But this,
running away like this, this is wrong.  This is not
the way to go about it."

"Mom," I said, trying to think of what I could say to
convince her.  "I didn't plan to run away.  I haven't
been sitting there in Nebraska thinking of a way to
get here.  I was happy with my dreams," I told her,
and for the most part, that was true.  "But Mom, you
know there is something big about to happen.  And
my place isn't in Nebraska.  It's with you."

"William, this talk of aliens -- "

"Mom!  You know they're real!" I cried in
exasperation.  "I know you know that!  They took
your husband!  You saw what they did to him.
Mom, they took you!"

"The military -- "

"Mom, Gibson told me everything," I said, breaking
in before she could get up to full rant.  She stared at
me, angry for a moment, then her face started to
crumble and the tears started to fall.

"I didn't want it to be true.  I heard what he said in
the pueblo and the date for colonization and I didn't
want it to be true," she said, covering her face with
her hands.

"I don't want it to happen, either, Mom," I said
quietly.  "I saw Dad's dreams.  A lot of people are
going to die.  But we don't have to be with them."

"Your parents?  Your other parents?"

For the first time it hit me.  I realized what was
going to happen.  If the aliens did attack, and I
knew it was more of when than if, most likely my
family would die in the initial assault.  My mom
would have survived cancer only to die a fiery
death.  I couldn't help it, I started to cry.

I found myself in my mother's arms again for the
second time that day.  "It's OK, William.  It's going
to be all right.  We'll call them.  We can warn
them."

"They won't listen," I sobbed.  "Dad will never
listen.  He doesn't believe in that science fiction
stuff."

"Then we'll make him listen.  You won't be doing
this alone.  I promise."

Peggy appeared at the door looking scared.
"Mommy, you better look at the TV," she told us.

"Margaret, I don't like you watching TV in your
room before bedtime," Mom said sternly, but found
the remote and switched on the set.

"Channel 16," Peggy said, and watched as the
screen flickered to life.

It was CNN again.  But instead of my picture, it was
a burning building.  I stared at the screen, finally
getting down on my knees so I could get very close.
"Oh God," I said, "oh God, no!"

As the wind shifted and the smoke cleared, leaving
only flames, I saw that it wasn't a building on fire.
It was my home.  My home in Nebraska!

"Mom, Dad?" I cried as I watched the flames cover
the roof and lick out my bedroom window.

Mom turned up the volume.  It was a different
reporter than before.  " . . . authorities believe the
fire was arson.  The owners of the house, John and
Silvia Vande Kamp were in the house when the
blaze started.  Both victims died of smoke
inhalation -- "

I didn't hear the rest over my sobs.

~~~

Resistance:  Fleeing

Mulder home
El Paso, Texas
December 2, 2012

I must have fallen asleep crying.  I woke up to find
my head in Mom's lap, the TV still on.  We were on
the couch and a blanket was over me.  I
remembered the picture on the screen and tears
burned at my eyes, but this time I held them back.
The time for crying was over.

I had to get hold of Gibson.  I knew he was in
trouble because of me.  Someone had killed my
adopted parents; I was betting that someone would
be after me, too.  Maybe they were killed because I
was supposed to be with them.  Maybe the people --
or things -- that killed them had been trying to kill
me.  It scared me and I just wanted to stay there,
warm and protected on my Mom's lap.

I looked up at her.  She was so pretty.  Now that I
could look at her, I could see the little bits of grey in
her hair, but she still looked really beautiful to me.
Just like she had all those years in my dreams.  Her
hand was holding my head; I think she might have
been petting my head last night while I cried myself
to sleep over the deaths of my parents, the Vande
Kamps.

Now I hated that I didn't tell them goodbye.  They
loved me, they raised me.  I could remember all the
times my Dad would sit me on his lap and we'd ride
the tractor.  I remember my Mom making brownies
for my Cub Scout meetings.  She made the best
brownies in the county -- she won blue ribbons at
the county fair all the time and one time even got a
second place at the Nebraska State Fair!  I
remembered all the times she would sew the rips in
my clothes after I'd been working with Dad in the
fields or when she would sing me to sleep when I
was home sick from school.  They were gone now.
I could never tell them that I loved them, as much as
they'd loved me.

It wasn't fair!  I didn't want it to be like this!  I
wanted . . . I wanted both my sets of parents.  I
loved the Mulders, I had wanted to be with them all
my life.  It was never my idea to leave them, they
gave me up!  Even if it was just to keep me safe.
Nobody asked me about it.  It just happened.  And
because of that decision, I loved the Vande Kamps,
too.  Sure, I never agreed with my Dad on anything,
but I knew he still loved me.  And yeah, my Mom
was really old-fashioned and never understood me,
sometimes even looked afraid of me because of the
things I would tell her.  But she loved me with her
whole heart.  She was always telling me "William,
you are my whole world, I don't need anything
else."  She told me that every time I would ask what
she wanted for Christmas or her birthday.  Always
the same answer.  "You are all I ever wanted."

"Are you all right?"  Her voice startled me.  I hadn't
realized she was awake.

"No," I said because it was true.  I wasn't all right.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.  When I
sat up, she was looking at me and it broke my heart.
She had tears in her eyes.  Guess the 'bad cop' was
taking the day off.

I stood up and folded the blanket, placing it on the
back of the couch.  "Why is this happening?" I
demanded.  "Why would someone do that?"

She bit her lip.  "William, I know you aren't going
to want to hear this, but this is exactly why I gave
you up."

"Don't give me that crap any more!  Look at you,
look at this house!  What is so different about this
house then my old one?  You and my Dad and
Peggy -- you have a home!  Why wasn't there room
for me?"

She wiped the tears from her cheeks.  I got the
impression she really didn't like to cry any more
than I did and the last day had been a real pain in
the butt because of that.  "We aren't . . . we . . .
William, for so long, we just ran.  We were sure that
if they found us they would kill us."

"You had another kid," I accused.  It hurt, as much
as I'd already grown to love her, seeing Peggy with
them in my dreams hurt so much.  Why wasn't I
good enough to keep and she was?

She shook her head, a sad smile on her face.
"Peggy, well, Peggy was a complete surprise, just as
you were."

"A mistake, you mean.  We were mistakes.  Birth
control that didn't work."  I know I was being a total
asshole, but I was angry and I couldn't stop myself
if I tried.  I wasn't trying to stop myself.

She looked down at the floor and I could tell her
patience with me was growing real thin, but she
looked up again and sighed.  "I was barren,
William.  If you know so much about sex ed, I'm
sure you know what that means."

"You were told you couldn't have kids," I supply.

"Yes.  I was told that all my ova had been harvested
during the time of my abduction.  I was told I would
never have children, ever.  And, because he loved
me, that meant your father would never have
children, either."

"He could have -- " I stopped because I knew I was
crossing another line.  He could have had children,
just not with her.

"Yes, he could have.  It was his decision not to.  As
I said, he loved me, loves me to this day.  It's one of
the few constants in my life," she said with that
same sad smile, but it quickly faded.  "One day I
was told that there was a very slim chance that I
could conceive, through invitro fertilization.  I
needed a donor for the sperm."

"But you already loved him, why didn't you just ask
him?" I asked.

She muttered something, it sounded like 'Mulder
this is your job', but she took a deep breath and
nodded to herself.  "We hadn't had sex," she said
simply.  "We weren't married and we'd never been
together.  Even though I'd loved him for seven years
at that point."

I thought about that.  My real parents were more
old-fashioned than my adopted ones!

"But you're right, I did ask him.  And even though
he wasn't sure, because he knew it would change
my life, our lives dramatically, he said yes."

"So I was born through invitro?"

"No," she said, and I had to sit down because I was
too confused to keep standing.

"But you just said -- "

"It didn't work.  It failed.  Not to go into specifics,
by mutual agreement, we decided to allow ourselves
to love each other, as we never had before."

"I don't think I want to hear much more about that
part," I admitted.  My mind flashed back to one
dream I'd had when I was about 9 or 10.  From that
time on, I tried not to dream about them too late at
night -- or too early in the morning.  Some parts of
family life weren't for continued viewing.

"Well, like it or not, you are a product of
completely natural conception," she said with a
smirk.  "And so was Peggy.  But so many things
were happening when I was pregnant with you."

"They took Dad," I offered.

"Yes, and when he was returned, he was still
threatened.  William, he couldn't let them take him
again.  It was . . . a fate worse than death.  And I
couldn't bury him again, I just couldn't.  So he went
away.  Many people thought he was running to save
himself, but that wasn't it at all.  He was running to
protect us, you and me.  I was supposed to keep you
safe, and I failed at it," she said, her voice rough
and tears coming down her cheeks.  "I couldn't keep
you safe, William.  Giving you up, it was the only
way to keep you safe.  I just prayed that some day --
"

"Mom," I said, swiping at my own tears.  "I get that.
But that doesn't explain about Peggy."

Mom snorted.  "You'll make a good investigator, if
we manage to hold onto the planet," she muttered.
"William," she said, directed at me now, "Peggy's
birth was, in all respects, a miracle -- just as you
were.  And to let you know now, and forever, I
regret putting you up for adoption.  I did it in a
moment of weakness.  By the time I realized what a
horrible mistake I'd made, it was done and I couldn't
undo it.  I had to live with it, have lived with it,
every day for the last 11 and one half years.  And I
can tell you one more thing," she said, taking a deep
breath, "I love you just as much now as I did the
day you were born.  I don't know how God saw fit
to bring you back to us right now, but I count it as a
blessing, as yet another miracle.  One thing I've
learned is to never give up on miracles."

Hearing her say it made me feel a little better, but
then I remembered the pictures on the TV again.  "I
don't see any miracles coming from that fire," I said,
wiping away another tear.

She stepped closer to me and took my hands in hers.
"I do.  You're alive.  That is a miracle to me.
William, if you hadn't run away you would have
been there in that fire.  You would be lost to me, to
this family, forever.  I mourn the death of your
parents; I owe them a tremendous debt that I could
never fully repay.  But don't ask me to be sorry that
you weren't there, that you were here with me when
the fire broke out.  As a matter of fact, I suspect that
fire might have been an attempt on your life."

"I figured that out, too," I admitted.  "Mom, we
have to get hold of Gibson -- "

"He called after you fell asleep.  He's safe.  We can't
contact him for a while, but I know he's safe.  Now
we have to do everything we can to make ourselves
safe, too."

"You think they're still after me?" I asked, and I was
surprised that I suddenly felt afraid.

"No, William.  They will be after all of us.  You,
Peggy, your father and me."

"We have to get Dad out of that hospital, then.  He's
a sitting duck!"

She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she
opened them she seemed like a different person.
She seemed taller, even.  More in charge.
 
"We'll do whatever it takes," she said firmly.  "I
want you and your sister to gather up some supplies,
food, clothing, some linens.  Not everything, just as
much as we might take if we were camping for the
weekend.  Have you ever been camping, William?"

"I've camped before," I assured her.

"Then you know what to do and so does Peggy.  I
have to go spring your father from the hospital.
When I get back, be ready to pack the things in the
car and take off."

"We won't be coming back, will we?" I had to ask.

Her eyes showed her sorrow.  "No, we won't be
back here."

"We'll have room for Tribble, won't we?" I asked.
"What is a Tribble, by the way?"

That made her smile.  "Tribble is a hamster.  I think
we have room for the cage.  Remind Peggy to pack
the cedar chips and food."

I watched Mom pull out of the driveway and felt the
fear settle in the pit of my stomach.  As I walked
into the kitchen from the carport, Peggy was pulling
a sheet of paper out of the back of the phone book.
She looked it over and handed it to me.

"I'll get the stuff on the top half, you work on the
food.  There's a plastic crate in the pantry.  If you
can't find something, put a star by it so we can pick
it up on the way."

"Do you know where we're going?" I asked.
Suddenly I had a clear image of a cave, hidden by
bushes.

"Don't think about it!" Peggy shouted.  "They might
figure it out."

"Where is it?  And who's going to figure it out?"

She stopped what she was doing and turned, put her
fist on one hip and looked at me like I was the
dumbest thing on earth.  "I thought you knew about
all this," she said and raised her eyebrow.  It looked
so much like I'd seen Mom do that it scared me a
little more.

"I do," I said, defensively.  "I just don't know the
details."

She snorted and shook her head.  "You don't need to
know the details.  Not yet, at least.  The less you
know, the better right now."  She turned on her heel
and headed back for the bedrooms.  I stood there
and wondered if she was really only 8 years old,
how come she shot me down like girls at least four
years older.

I had a little trouble finding a couple of the items,
but I was finished pretty quickly.  I put the crate by
the door to the carport and went to find Peggy.

"Is this Tribble?" I asked.  She nodded sadly.
"Mom says Tribble goes, too," I assured her.

"Yeah, but I don't think he's going to do well where
we're going," she said.

"Sure she will!  I'll help you take care of her.  She'll
be fine."  I knew absolutely nothing about hamsters.
The one time I asked for one my dad had told me
they were related to rats and that was the end of the
discussion.  But looking at Tribble as she ran in his
wheel, little tail high in the air, I didn't see much rat
resemblance.

"They get cold easy," Peggy said, holding back
tears.  "Then they die."

"What do you do to keep her warm when it gets
cold here?"

She shrugged.  "It doesn't get that cold.  But
sometimes I put a towel over her cage.  And I keep
her away from the window and the air conditioning
vent, so she doesn't catch cold."

"So that's what we'll do," I said.  She gave me that
raised eyebrow again, but I ignored it.  I understood
her reasons for being upset, but the trials and
tribulations of one hamster really was sort of small
when you looked at the big picture.  "Do you have
every thing on your part of the list?"

She nodded to some packed suitcases and a couple
more plastic crates.  I picked up the crates and
carried them to the back door where I had place my
items.  Peggy followed with the suitcases.  She
surveyed what we had, frowning.  "Where's your
suitcase?"

I remembered my backpack.  I'd left it in the family
room.  I went to grab it and then noticed a framed
picture on the bookshelf.  It was Mom, Dad and
Peggy.  Tucked in a corner of the frame was a
smaller picture, a reprint of an old 3 X 4.  It was
Mom, Dad and a baby.  I pulled it from the frame
and read the back.  "Dana, Fox and William
5/22/2001"  I tucked it back in the larger frame and
slipped it into my backpack.  I was pretty sure we'd
want to hang on to those.

By the time I got back to the kitchen, Peggy had
Tribble's cage and supplies added to the assortment
of crates and luggage.  I looked at the clock on the
microwave and figured we'd packed the place up in
a little over two hours.

"I'm going to make some sandwiches for the road,"
Peggy said suddenly.  I could tell she was nervous,
she needed something to keep her busy.

"I'll help," I offered.  She smiled at me and pointed
to the breadbox on the counter top.  I pulled out the
loaf of bread -- whole grain wheat -- while she got
peanut butter from the cupboard and jelly from the
refrigerator.  We made the sandwiches in silence,
working as a team.  In the end we made up the
whole loaf and we had 9 sandwiches.  I helped her
wrap them in plastic wrap and put them in a couple
of paper lunch sacks.

Just as we finished, the headlights of a car swung
over the kitchen wall.  It scared me at first, but
Peggy ran to the door.  "C'mon, Will.  It's Momma
and Daddy!"  When I caught up with her, Mom was
coming in the door, grabbing suitcases to pack in
the car.  We each took a couple of loads, but in no
time the old minivan was packed and we were ready
to go.

As we got in the car, Peggy looked back at the
house sadly.  "Bye, house.  You were a great place
to live," she said, but she didn't cry.  I was proud of
her in that moment.  I don't know if I could have left
my home when I was her age.  But then, I'd left my
home just four days before and it was finally
settling in with me.

Peggy and I were in the captain's chairs in the
middle of the car.  I was behind Mom and Peggy
was behind Dad.  The backseat was folded down to
hold all the luggage and crates.  Dad was sitting in
the passenger seat up front and didn't look any
better than when we'd seen him the night before at
the hospital.  If anything, he looked paler and there
were dark circles under his eyes.

Mom gave him a worried look as she buckled her
seat belt.  "You still with me, Mulder?" she asked.
It occurred to me that I should probably think it odd
that she called him by his last name all the time, but
it just sounded natural.  I didn't hear his answer, but
I saw him take her hand and give it a squeeze.  She
seemed to relax a little bit.

"Will and I made sandwiches, Mommy," Peggy told
her.  "Peanut butter and jelly."

"I'll take some of that action," Dad said in a voice
just louder than a whisper.

Peggy dutifully started to open one of the sacks, but
Mom shook her head.  "Mulder, soft diet for a
couple of days.  I have some Ensure here for you."

"Warm, I assume," he said grimly.

"We can get ice at a gas station," Mom suggested.
His answering grunt told me all I needed to know
about his opinion on that suggestion.

"I'll save you a sandwich, Daddy," Peggy added.

"You can make me a fresh one in a couple of days,
Peg-leg," Dad told her.  "Will, how are you holding
up?  I heard about the farm and your . . . "  He
couldn't say 'parents', I got the feeling he couldn't
call them that.  I understood but in a small way I
resented it.

"I'm OK, Dad.  I just want us to get somewhere
safe," I told him.

Dad reached his hand back, awkward, but I leaned
forward and took it.  "We're on our way, son.  I
promise, we're on our way there right now."

Mom put the car in reverse and pulled out of the
driveway.  Peggy stared out the front windshield; I
could tell she was trying not to cry again.  I looked
at the small house with the blue drapes and
wondered if I'd ever again see a structure I could
call home.

To be continued in Resistance 2, coming soon