Work Text:
Fox Mulder, aged ten, rushed through the front door of his house, wiping blood from a split lip with the back of his hand. He peered cautiously out of the big picture window in the living room, but his pursuers had finally dispersed. When his mother ran towards him, he pushed her hands away. He knew she could never understand. Instead, he sought out Samantha, and her smile made him think of the prayer he'd heard at his grandparents' house before Friday night dinners--strength and dignity are her garb; she looks smilingly toward the future.
When Samantha vanished in his twelfth year, Fox dropped out of Hebrew school. Neither of his parents ever said a word about it. Fox couldn't shake the feeling that she had been taken because he was not worthy, that there was someone out there who could not bear for him to be happy, that this was just another in a long series of persecutions.