Mulder was used to ideas getting stuck in his head. Usually, they came from Star Trek episodes or books on quantum physics. A retired military conspiracy theorist was a first. But as Mulder walked back to the school parking lot to pick up his car, he couldn’t stop thinking about his conversation with the Major—and it was still on his mind as he drove to his dad’s apartment.
After listening to Gimble’s dad talk about aliens and running an imaginary black ops unit, it seemed crazy to take him seriously, but the Major had said something that made perfect sense to Mulder because he believed it, too.
There are no coincidences.
When Samantha disappeared, people on the island had called it a coincidence. As if a kidnapper just went out for a stroll that night and happened to pass Mulder’s house when he was suddenly struck by an overwhelming urge to abduct a kid?
Yeah, right.
What were the odds?
He was still thinking about it when he walked into the apartment. The television was on. For once, his father was home before him.
“Dad?” Mulder dropped his backpack in the hallway and grabbed a handful of sunflower seeds from a bag on the kitchen counter. He used to hate them and the shells his father left all over the house, and they still reminded him of birdseed. But two years ago he had started craving them out of the blue, and he’d been eating them ever since. At least they kind of made it feel like home.
“In here,” his dad called from the master bedroom.
Mulder’s dad had rented the apartment when his parents separated, which was code for getting divorced. The place was nice, but it felt more like a hotel than a home. Everything in the second-floor walk-up was brand-new—from the cassette tape player that his dad never used and the expensive toaster that never worked, to the desk in Mulder’s room that was the identical twin to the one in his room back in Chilmark (minus the Dune quotes written all over it).
Living with his dad for the school year—the “getting-to-know-each-other-better experiment,” as Mulder called it—wasn’t much different from the pre-separation status quo of ignoring each other.
When Mulder reached his dad’s room and spotted the open suitcase at the end of the bed, it reminded him of the other reason the apartment felt like a hotel. His dad was always leaving on a business trip or returning from one.
“Going somewhere?” Mulder leaned against the door frame, looking bored. If his dad didn’t care enough to spend any time with him, Mulder wasn’t going to let it bother him.
“New Mexico. It’s a quick trip. I’ll be back on Monday.” His dad didn’t look up from the shirts he was folding. “I want you to head over to Georgetown tomorrow. Spend some time on campus like we talked about. The sooner you make a decision, the better.”
Meaning the sooner Mulder made the decision his dad wanted him make. “Acceptance letters don’t come for two more weeks.” Unless, of course, your dad used his connections at the State Department to make sure that you were already accepted to the college he wanted you to attend. “I still have time to decide.”
His father tossed the shirt in his hand on the bed. “There’s nothing to decide. Kids don’t turn down acceptances to Georgetown University.”
Mulder crossed his arms. “Of course they do, or there wouldn’t be a waiting list. And I thought you were coming with me to show me ‘the lay of the land.’ What happened to playing tour guide?” His dad had never attended Georgetown, unless the campus tour counted, but he had the prospective students brochure memorized.
“I’m going out of town, remember?” He gestured at the suitcase, irritated.
“Does everyone at the State Department work weekends, or just you?” Mulder sounded more bitter than usual.
“Most people don’t have my level of responsibility, and the project I’m working on is entering an important phase.” His father arranged the shirts neatly in the suitcase.
“I bet.”
“I tried to get out of going, if that makes you feel any better.” His dad almost sounded sincere. “I know you don’t understand, but what I do is important. It’s bigger than me. I’m trying to do some good in the world.…” He stared at his half-packed suitcase, and for a second, he looked miserable.
Mulder almost felt sorry for his dad, but it didn’t last. Whatever prompted this heartfelt share session couldn’t make up for the past few years. Work was always his father’s priority, even when his family was falling apart, which didn’t make any sense to Mulder. As far as he was concerned, nothing would ever be as important as his sister and finding out what had happened to her.
His dad looked up and shook off any genuine emotion he might have been feeling. “It’s not like I planned to be out of town. I’m not thrilled about the idea of Phoebe staying here while I’m away.”