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Resistance 01: Knowing
Author: Vickie Moseley
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."
To be continued
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