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slippinmickeys · 3 days ago

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Got a Funfetti Universe prompt via DM. This one is for you, astrophile!

Grayskull

William came hurtling through their bedroom door and threw himself onto the top of the covers, breathing hard, his eyes so wide Scully could see all of his sclera. It was early, the light behind the bedroom curtains thin and milky. Mulder had gotten up at 5:00, and she had just heard the shower shut off, could hear the squeaky slide of the squeegee across the glass shower door. It had taken a while, but she had trained him well.

“Is Daddy gone yet?” William panted, the last word of his query coming out on a pubertal crack.

He hadn’t called Mulder ‘Daddy’ since he was six.

Scully scooted herself up to sit against the headboard.

“What?” she asked, awake, but not as alert as she would be after her first cup of coffee.

“Dad,” William said again, his face pleading. “Has he left yet?“

“Have I what yet?” came Mulder’s voice from the en-suite doorway, tucking in the top of the towel he’d wrapped around his waist.

“Dad!” William said, rolling awkwardly off the bed and then throwing his substantial thirteen-year-old frame against his father’s still-damp chest.

Mulder wrapped his arms around the boy and threw Scully a questioning look. She gave him a mystified one back, shaking her head.

“Will?” Mulder said a moment later, trying to pull back from his son’s death grip to get a look at his face. “What’s going on, bud?”

“I had a,” the boy paused briefly to swallow, and finally lifted his eyes to look up at his father. “I had a dream,” he said. “That you got killed. On your trip.”

Sweet boy , thought Scully.

Mulder shot a look toward the packed suitcase that waited by the bedroom door. He had a flight out of Dulles in three hours.

“It’s okay,” Mulder said softly, rubbing the felty softness of his son’s back.

Scully gave him a ‘come here’ gesture, and Mulder started walking his son backwards toward his mother’s side of the bed.

“Why don’t we sit down,” he said. Scully shifted in the bed to make room for the two of them to sit. The bed dipped under their weight, and Mulder raked a handthrough his still-wet hair. Scully reached out and put her hand on William’s shoulder.

“It was just a dream, sweetie,” she said.

“It wasn’t, though,” William said, glancing at the suitcase.

“It wasn’t a dream?” Scully asked softly. She could feel the boy’s heart pounding against her hand.

“It was a dream,” William said. “But it wasn’t.”

He looked pleadingly at Scully, who was struggling to understand.

“What do you mean, Will?” Mulder asked.

William turned back to his father. He took a deep breath in.

“You can’t go on this trip, Dad. You’ll die.”

A coldness spread through Scully’s abdomen.

“You’re having a premonition?” Mulder asked gently, bending his head down to try to look at his son from his own eye level.

“Define ‘premonition,’” Will said.

“A strong feeling that something will happen,” Mulder said. “Especially something unpleasant.”

“It’s more than that,” said Will. “It’s more than a feeling.”

The sun was coming up, slowly brightening the room.

“Grayskull?” Mulder asked, their codeword for William’s powers. He’d come up with it at age seven, after watching an old He-Man cartoon. Elated by the idea of Prince Adam’s powerful alter-ego, he’d shouted “By the power of Grayskull!” and proceeded to lift the coffee table three feet off the ground with his mind. Scully, surprised and afraid and still managing to hold onto some semblance of parental authority, had bleated “No Grayskull in the house!” and a codeword was born.

“Grayskull,” William confirmed.

Mulder exchanged a look with Scully over their son’s head. “You’re sure?” he asked the boy.

William nodded pointedly.

In the kitchen, the coffee maker turned on and the sweet smell of roasted beans drifted into the bedroom. The three of them sat in silence for a moment before Mulder ran a hand thoughtfully over his chin.

“What will happen?” he asked. “If I go?”

William ran his palms over his knees a couple of times, staring down at the floor.

“The arrest goes bad,” he finally said. “The guy you’re going after, he has a gun. Hidden. Up by his neck. When he’s ordered to put his hands behind his head, you and the other agent–the one with curly hair and the gap between his teeth?”

Mulder’s Adam's apple bobbed. William had never met any member of the Violent Crimes task force that his father was currently assigned to.

“Jacoby,” Mulder said.

“Him,” William said sadly. “When you and him go forward to frisk and cuff him, he draws on you.”

Scully could feel the blood drain from her face. Her eyes bore holes in the side of Mulder’s head, but he was focused on his son.

“Don’t get on the plane, Dad.”

The boy had shown an aptitude for both telepathy and telekinesis–amongst other alarming capabilities, but this was something new.

“I’m going to call Skinner,” Mulder said. “Let’s…Let’s huddle up in the kitchen in a little bit. We’ll…figure this out.”

Scully finally caught Mulder’s eye and he nodded at her.

“Why don’t you go brush your teeth,” Scully said to her son as Mulder rose from the bed and grabbed the cell phone sitting on his bedside table. William watched as he closed himself into the bathroom.

“He can’t go, Mom,” the boy said, standing. The flannel pajama pants he was wearing were faded, and his ankles were slowly creeping farther and farther below the cuff. “You can’t let him.”

Scully pulled her lips in between her teeth and gave her son a small nod. He drifted out of the bedroom and down the hallway.

Following him a moment later, Scully rose and shut the bedroom door. After a few minutes, Mulder emerged from the bathroom with the cell phone in his hands.

“I told Skinner something came up and I couldn’t make the trip.”

He pulled the towel off of his waist and stepped into a dark pair of boxer briefs.

“Good,” Scully said. Mulder gave her a surprised look.

“What?” she said, hugging her arms to her body. “I know this is usually the part where I tell you that precognition violates the principle of antecedence, and that an effect cannot occur before its cause. But I’m relieved as hell that you’re not going.”

Mulder lowered himself to sit on the bed. “And here I had an argument all prepared.” He reached down and spun the platinum wedding band he wore around his finger a few times. “Precognitive phenomena,” he said, a little awe in his voice. “Christ.”

“What did Skinner say? Did you tell him it was Grayskull?”

“I did. And not much. He reminded me that it wasn’t his op and that I’d have to make my excuses to the Deputy Director, but that he’d smooth things over.”

“Josephson’s Method for verifying precognitive dreams necessitates a complete blackout. Your talking to Skinner may have negated our ability to collect scientific evidence. Procedurally, a dream or vision can only be identified as precognitive after the putative event has taken place.” She had, almost against her will, become something of a renowned expert in paraphsycology over the course of the last several years.

“Fuck the data collection,” Mulder said. “It’s not like we’d try to publish. Anyway, Jacoby’s got a new baby at home, I’m calling the SAC with a request to cancel the op.”

“Think you can convince him?”

“Her.”

“My question stands.”

Mulder rubbed a hand over his eyes tiredly. “She’s ambitious. My guess is no.”

He reached again for the phone.

“I’ll get our guy started on breakfast,” Scully said, sliding her feet into slippers and closing the door softly behind her.

When Mulder joined them later in the kitchen, Scully handed him a steaming mug and raised her eyebrows in question. Mulder shook his head.

From the small kitchen table came William’s voice.

“Call Jacoby. Tell him to be careful.”

***

Two evenings later, Skinner showed up at their door in his jacket and tie, overcoat billowing in the wind. Scully opened the door wide to admit him.

“I can’t stay,” he said, ducking under the lintel.

“Hey Uncle Walt,” called out Will, who was on the couch relacing a baseball mitt.

“Heads up, kid,” Skinner said and tossed a small box covered in gift wrap over the back of the couch. Scully thought it hovered in the air maybe a second too long before her son dropped the mitt to the couch and grabbed it.

“It’s not my birthday,” the boy said, looking up.

“It’s a thank you gift,” Skinner said gruffly.

William tore open the paper.

“Is this the new Assassin’s Creed?” he asked the older man, his tone one of exhilaration.

Skinner nodded.

“Can I?” William asked his mother, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Go ahead,” Scully said. Before she even finished talking, the boy was halfway up the stairs.

Mulder had made his way over to the entryway. “The Op?” he asked the second he heard William’s bedroom door close.

Skinner turned to him. “Went down.”

“And?”

“He was right,” Skinner nodded toward where William had disappeared up the steps. “Holschu had a gun. Newfangled holster at the base of his neck. It was a shitshow.”

“Anybody get hurt?”

“Holschu’s dead. Jacoby got hit.”

Mulder and Scully shared a look.

“How bad?”

“He took your warning seriously,” Skinner said, turning toward the door. “He’s going to be okay.”

Scully reached out and squeezed Mulder’s hand.

Skinner paused in the doorway. “Grayskull,” he said, and Mulder and Scully looked at him intently.

“You keep a tight lid on this one,” their former boss went on, his voice weary. “Rumors turn into whispers.” He smoothed his tie with his left hand. “And a lot of people are listening.”

#fanfic #my fic #the x-files #msr #prompt #funfetti universe

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