Blood of Abraham - Chapter Twenty Four
by Mik
Scully said, "Mulder, the alleles can't lie."
Skinner said, "Mulder, think. There had to be someone...maybe on a field assignment...maybe you were drugged."
Langly said, "I don't trust DNA testing. It's too easy to rig it."
Byers said, "Human parentage testing is impossible to 'rig'."
Frohike said, "Are we sure he's human?"
And I said, "Shut up, all of you. This isn't helping."
They silenced, sitting around Skinner's table, fumbling with coffee cups, shuffling papers, drumming fingertips, all eyes fixed on me while I tried desperately to remember how I'd managed to impregnate a woman without actually having sex with her.
Skinner had tried to suggest benign possibilities such as sperm donation, or recent medical tests. Scully, while bearing the appearance of open mindedness, was clearly convinced I'd been out spreading my genetic material wantonly amongst the female population of the Eastern Seaboard. Frohike wanted to believe I had 'a little side action going', Byers thought my ex wife had stored the results of marital contact and Langly believed I'd been kidnapped and experimented upon by the government. For once in my life, I was the one keeping a grip on reality.
The sad fact was, I hadn't been near a woman in almost four years. Even my closest friends found that hard to believe. My emotional intimacy with Scully, my predilection for straight porn, my marriage, the fact that my mother simply refused to accept that her son could be gay, all were reasons for incredulity. Even Skinner, my most recent bed partner, was willing to believe that I enjoyed heterosexual romps as much as most men.
It took this uncomfortable scrutiny for me to realize a truth about myself. Intellectually, sex was very stimulating to me. But while every guy enjoys shooting a few hoops now and again, and might even like to pretend they're the next O'Neil, Bryant, or Marbury, the truth was ninety-five percent of most men weren't and never would be NBA material. I was a half court wanna-be. Loved to watch, but I'd never make the team. Either team.
So, what was the answer? I didn't have it. Science didn't have it. Theory didn't have it. Well, theory tried.
"Maybe he's a clone?" Frohike suggested when silence became too much for him.
"Don't be ridiculous," Skinner scoffed.
"If he were a clone, then the DNA would be identical," Scully stated.
A clone was the most reasonable possibility I'd heard yet. "And it's not, right?"
"It's very similar..." Scully started to hedge. "Without his mother's sample, we really can't determine how similar."
"You said he had to be my son," I protested.
"I said it was the most reasonable conclusion," she argued, her voice starting to quaver slightly. It was clear she didn't like being challenged in front of an audience. "You are blood relatives. Closer than cousins. You could be uncle and nephew. But only if his mother came from the same bloodline, a first cousin or closer."
I shook my head. "I don't have any cousins. Certainly none I've slept with."
Frohike snickered. "You might be a redneck if your family tree doesn't-"
"Shut up!" Skinner barked.
Byers looked at me. "How do you know you don't have any cousins?"
"Well, my dad was an only child and my mother only has one brother, and he has no kids."
"What about your brother?" Langly blurted.
Everyone turned to glare at him.
"I am sure I never slept with him." To be sure, I never thought much of him, except to wonder how the same gene pool could produce two such diametrically opposed points of view. Funny, the man I could never consider in any way like me was actually related to me and the woman I'd always thought was the only person who could possibly understand who I am was not related to me in any way save vicinity.
There was more awkward silence.
"Well," Skinner decided, laying his hands flat on the table. It was a familiar gesture. To outsiders, it might look as simple as gaining leverage to stand. To anyone who knew him, it was his way of taking charge, getting on top of all situations. "There has to be an explanation. If we cannot account for where your...your...where you have been, then we have to go back to Bram and account for where he's been."
"How can we do that?" Scully asked doubtfully. "Any trace evidence that came with him must have been destroyed by now."
"We have to look for it again. Let's get together everything that was with him when he arrived, and examine it again. We might find something." He looked at Scully. "Do you have someone you can trust for that?"
She nodded.
He looked at the Gunmen. "What can you do?"
They looked at one another. "We can see if there's any chatter about baby trafficking, or clones, or Mulder's father," Langly decided.
"Which one?" Frohike asked.
"Either one," Skinner said crisply. "I think that's all we can do tonight." He stood. Compelling everyone else at the table to stand.
Except Scully. She was still frowning at the file folder under her fingertips. "There's one possibility we've overlooked."
We all sat down again.
"Well, the only other relationship which could have so many common loci would be siblings. In fact, if two brothers claim to be father and son, it's almost impossible to disprove."
"You think he's my brother?" Yesterday my sister was taken away from me for the second time, and some way too painful to fully analyze, more permanent time, and now Scully was trying to give me another brother. "That's impossible. My mother's not exactly a hag, but even I have to say-"
"I'm not saying he is, Mulder," she said with that dry, don't-mess-with-me-Mulder voice. "I'm only saying that's the only other conceiv-" she caught the poor choice of words but not in time to keep Frohike and Langly from snickering. She sighed. "All I'm saying is the only thing closer than father and son is brother and brother."
"You said it was a possibility," I argued.
"Okay, it was a poor choice of words." She sent a short but withering look at Frohike. "I seem to be making a lot of them tonight. "What I meant to say is it is the only possibility we hadn't considered. My God, Mulder, you of all people should believe in considering every possibility, even the impossible."
She had me there. "Okay, I'll ask my mother."
"Oh, and you think she's going to just smile and nod and say 'Yes, dear, last year while you were bouncing all over the country chasing little green men-"
"Grey," we all responded in near unison.
"-I gave birth to your little brother.'"
"I have to admit, if she knew something about him, she was behaving exactly as I would expect her to," I conceded. "If he disappeared from the place he was supposed to be, and she found out he was with me, she'd be on my doorstep, and she was. She might have even considered it convenient and reasonable to pass him off as my son, which she did – at first."
"And now it's not?" Scully asked. "I don't understand."
Skinner looked at her. "Don't you?"
"I see."
There was another uncomfortable silence. We took turns looking at one another, and avoiding questions we saw in one another's eyes. Finally Byers asked, "Do you think he's your brother?"
I pulled in a lungful of air while I asked myself the same question. I hated to admit it but, "I don't know. I don't know how it's possible."
"You didn't know how he could be your son, either," he countered.
"There is a slight difference. In order for him to be my son required my active participation. No participation creates a reasonable doubt. I would not be expected to participate in the other postulation." I made a face. "In fact, it's practically a requirement that I did not. No participation creates reasonable plausibility."
Skinner's expression was one of incredulity. "Why can't you use reason like that in the line of duty?"
I responded with an expression that might tax incredulity in the line of duty. "Bite me."
Frohike laughed again.
"I'm glad the situation affords you so much entertainment," Skinner said dryly.
Frohike was unperturbed by the censure. "As a matter of fact, it does."
"It's not a joke, Frohike. Do you want my mother to find a way to take this kid out of here?"
He sobered. "No."
"Nothing's going to happen to the little dude," Langly said confidently. "We've kept him safe so far."
"Because we didn't know if anyone was actually after him before," Scully said, rising, stuffing files into her bag. "Now we have a cogent threat."
"You think she's a threat, Agent?" Skinner asked, standing with her and compelling all of us to stand again.
"My limited experiences with Mrs. Mulder leads me to believe she could, in this case, be a threat, yes, Sir."
"Then speed is of the essence, people."
Frohike snapped a salute. "Yes, Sir!"
I guided him out of the room. "Thanks for coming, guys."
"Hey, can we see the little dude before we leave? It's been a while?" Langly asked.
That someone would actually want to see him still seemed astounding to me. He wasn't all that fascinating. "Sure. This way."
"Whoa, way cool artwork," Frohike whispered when I switched on a light. "Who's the doer?"
"Skinner did it."
"Really?" All three spoke in united disbelief, and I could see new respect in their eyes.
I admit I should have been a little flushed with pride for the man...for all intents and purposes my man, but I was so absorbed with the frustration and the fear that followed my mother's visit and the miasma of threat she'd left behind, that nothing else really registered with me. I didn't get why people thought Bram was so special. I didn't get why people might be impressed discovering a creative bent to Skinner. I didn't get why anything else mattered except fixing this so all the problems could go away.
I suppose I might have considered just letting my mother take him, if that's what she decided to do. Bram had totally disrupted my life but, viewed providentially, the changes had been for the good. I had a nicer place to crash, I had someone to crash into, I was open about myself for the first time in my life. And I had a son. Okay, I was still trying to convince myself about that little improvement but, he was there, and I was getting used to him, so it didn't seem fair, after I'd made so many changes in my life to accommodate him, that my mother could swoop in and take him away.
I wouldn't let myself admit it, but I think I was afraid if she took him away, then everything else would be taken away, as well. Would Skinner still want me here if Bram wasn't there, binding us with responsibility? Would I have any reason to stay?
Besides, and this really was the greater motivation, someone, presumably Bram's mother, felt I should have custody. It was someone's will that he should be with me, not my mother, not Child Services, not the government. And if I let my mother take him, how could I be sure she wouldn't just hand him over to a social worker so that he would be swallowed up in the foster care system. Oh, no. I wouldn't let that happen to him. Let her do her worst.
"You can do surprising things when you give a damn," I mumbled.
"Well, I'm surprised," Frohike said.
I jerked my focus back into the now, the room with my three friends looking so incongruous, bent over a crib, making fussy noises and funny faces. "Hey, don't wake him, Rachel will take strips of your hide for her belt if you do."
That appeared to be sufficient threat because all three of them backed up sharply. "Your nanny's scary," Langly said.
"But hot," Frohike countered.
"Goodnight, guys."
They paused to admire the artwork just a little longer, but with some not so subtle hints, and a little shoving, I managed to get them out the front door before cock crow.
Scully was in the kitchen, talking to Skinner while he rinsed coffee cups. Both of them hushed as I came back in. "Everyone gone?" he asked.
"Yeah. Oh, by the way, they're seeing you in a whole new light." I pulled the refrigerator open and scanned the contents. I was hungry for something but there was no comfort in that box.
"Impressed with my keen insight?" he drawled, putting cups in the dishwasher.
"Nope." I pulled a beer from the shelf.
"My ability to manage in a crisis?"
"Nope." I twisted the cap and the bottle opened with a hiss and a faint pop.
"His capacity for cutting through the juvenile antics and foolish theories without losing sight of the facts?" Scully suggested.
Skinner turned and nodded at her. "Thank you."
She nodded back. "You're welcome."
"Nope." I took a long draw from the beer. "Your artistic gifts."
His ears turned a bit pink. "I wasn't aware..."
"Well, that's one I haven't heard."
Scully tucked her feet under the chair and stood. "I'll get up to
I walked her to the door. "Thank you for coming tonight, Scully. Thank you for all your help."
"Well, I have a vested interest in seeing that you keep him, Mulder."
"Why?" I know my stunned expression betrayed the impossible possibility. "Scully, you..."
"Don't be an ass." She patted my arm and went across the threshold before turning around. "You're a better man since you became a father. You were always a good cop, a brilliant investigator, a loyal friend, but now you're a better man." She patted again. "'night, Mulder."
Skinner was drying his hands when I brought the half empty bottle back to the kitchen. "She's gone?"
"Yeah." I poured the beer into the sink. "Thank you for this, Skinner. For..." I gestured with the bottle, "All of this."
He put his hands on my shoulders, his breath light tickles of warmth on the back of my neck. "You're not in this alone, Mulder," he said softly. "You're not alone, anymore. We're a family. And no one's going to break up my family." He squeezed lightly. "Come on. Come to bed. With me, tonight."
I swallowed hard. There was pressure in my throat and behind my eyes. I didn't want to lose this, and I knew then I was terrified I would. "If she..."
He squeezed again, so gently reassuring. "She won't."
"If she did..."
"She can't change anything, Mulder." He turned me around to face him. "She can't." He kissed me. A real, genuine, fourteen carat kiss; the kind that come at the end of the movie, the one that says 'everything is different' and then changes everything. "Come on to bed."
Change is scary.
But I went, anyway.
End Chapter Twenty Four