Title: A Flaw in the System
Author: Jeffrey T Pusch
Rating: PG
Category: X Spoilers: wetwired

Summary: The agents are called to a small Texas town to investigate a homicide that was seemingly committed by a third-grade class.

Placid Elementary School
Placid, Texas 1:15

"Okay, class. Settle down, everyone. Get out a sheet of paper."

A collective groan sounded from the class of third graders. There was also a ripple of paper being pulled from notebooks. A hand went into the air.

"Yes, Ricky?" Ms Garrott asked.

"Why is it so hot in here?" Other children nodded their heads. The question was suddenly on every child's mind.

The plump teacher fanned her face as if she jus realized that the temperature was a little higher than normal. "When you were at recess, I asked principle Fogarty There is a problem with the air conditioning. I know it is a tad uncomfortable, but we must ignore it and continue. Did everyone study spelling list 6 for the exam today?"

There was a chorus of "yes's," but there was a marked lack of enthusiasm. Ms Garrott frowned for a moment. The children were normally energetic, even during a quiz. She passed it off as the Texas heat and continued with the spelling quiz.

"Okay, class. Word number one: ultimate."

As a whole, the class bowed their heads and began to write the word on their paper. Ms Garrott waited a few seconds before continuing. She went through a few more words when she thought to herself that the air conditioning must have been fixed; she was not so hot anymore.

Unfortunately, she did not see the perspiration on the faces of her students.

"Word number 6: headache."

"You're going to have a headache when I'm through with you," a voice muttered. There were a few snickers.

"What was that? Who said that?" Ms Garrott asked sharply. She did not like the tone of that statement.

"Yeah, and a couple of bruises, and maybe a broken bone or something," murmured another student.

"Or a broken head!" This last phrase was announced by Ricky. He stood up and shouted, "Break her head! Break her head!"

Other children began to take up the shout as they stood up from their desks. Ms Garrott attempted to command them to sit down, but all that came out was a dusty croak. Her throat was locked in terror. The children advanced, violence in their eyes. Ms Garrott flinched against the blackboard as the first blow fell. Blows rained upon her, and the pupils forced their teacher to the ground, where the kicking commenced. One child, possible the young Ricky, picked up a paperweight off the teacher's desk. The paperweight, shaped like an apple, was made of heavy marble.

One blow to the woman's skull was all it too. With a sharp crack, the teacher fell limp. Her eyes glassed over, and the children knew she was dead. One by one, the children returned to their desks, and waited patiently for the bell to ring.

"Hey Scully, do you remember very much from your elementary school days?"

"Not much. Recess, I guess, and I do remember Ms Ford from third grade. What's this about, Mulder?"

The agent looked at his partner with a smirk. "Funny you should mention third grade. The suspects in this case are third graders."

"What?" Scully's jaw dropped. "What are you talking about?"

"Teachercide. It seems a group of third graders in a small Texas elementary school attacked and bludgeoned their teacher to death."

"Bludgeoned? With what?"

Mulder withdrew a photograph from his file and handed it to Scully. It was of a blood-splattered marble paperweight in the shape of an apple. "What's that about keeping the doctor away with one of those?" he joked.

"You can't be serious."

"You know I am. The local PD has asked us to help out on this case. They seem to be at a loss of what to do. Looks like we're going back to school, Scully."

The Ford Taurus bounced as Mulder hit a small dip in the road. Scully flashed him a look of annoyance and returned to the file she was reading. "It says here that this town has the lowest rate of violent crime per capita."

"I know, Scully, that's what got this town so riled up. With only one murder and not a single rape last year, this town has a pretty clean record. They're proud of it. It takes a little more than a fender-bender to get the people of Placid upset."

"It must have to do with the small town demography, Mulder. With a place that is so far from the crime-infested city, there's bound to be a drop in the crime rate."

"But this low, Scully?"

"Well, what do you suggest? That it's something in the water?"

"Possibly."

Scully shot her partner a look of exasperation. She was not sure if his deadpan expression meant that he was serious or not. The smile he flashed her then told her that this was not another one of his spooky ideas.

They continued to Placid.

Office of Gordon G. Fogarty, Principal of Placid Elementary School

Mr. Fogarty was nervous.

Scully could see that he was sweating heavily. True, the air condition system seemed to be broken, but she was only slightly uncomfortable in the stuffy office. The principal fidgeted with each question, and her suspicions steadily rose.

"You mean to tell me the children deny it?"

"Yes, Agent Scully." Fogarty wiped a handkerchief across his perspiration-dotted brow. "They claim the teacher was dead when they entered the room from recess."

"But you doubt their claim? Could it be that someone actually had attacked her when they knew the room would be empty?"

"Yes, well," the man stammered. "The children waited for a while before they announced it. They said that at first they thought she was sleeping."

Mulder sat forward in his chair to stare at the man behind the large desk. "Sleeping?" he asked.

"Yes."

Scully arched her eyebrow. "They didn't notice the blood?"

"Evidently not."

"Is it also true that the children had papers out on their desk like they were taking a test?"

"A spelling quiz, actually, Mr. Mulder."

Scully glanced at her notes, and flipped a few pages over. "It says here that there were no fingerprints on the weapon."

"If you are referring to the paperweight, no, the police already checked it out. There were no fingerprints on it at all, not even Ms Garrott's."

"So the killer wiped the weight clean." Mulder mused.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Fogarty," Scully said as she stood up. We will be in touch after we talk to the local police."

"One more thing, if you will. Ms Garrott was a good woman. The students liked her, as did most parents. She got along well with the other teachers and administration. There is no one, not one soul, who I would think murdered this woman. I believe that it is the violence the children see on television every Saturday morning that changed them from sweet children into murdering monsters."

"You think the children, or at least one of the students did this?"

"I do, Agent Mulder."

"Thank you for your time, sir." With that, Mulder opened the door and the agents stepped from the office into the hallway.

"So that's what it's like being in the principal's office." Scully remarked.

"Oh, you know you've been in there many times before, Scully. I bet you were a wild one in elementary school." Mulder smiled.

"You'd be surprised. Now Mulder, you don't actually believe that the students murdered their teacher, right there in cold blood?"

"We've seen it before, Scully. Remember the town of Comity?"

"Mulder, those were two high school girls. And you yourself thought that their behavior was affected by the alignment of the planets! These are elementary age kids, Mulder. They are not killers. Did you see that man in there?" Her question was met with a slight grin. "Mulder, that man was scared."

"Wouldn't you be if your third grade class was a bunch of psychotics?"

"Mulder!"

"Really, Scully. Think about it. Fogarty mentioned television. We've seen the effects that television can have."

"You told me that it was some sort of experiment. You said that X, or whatever he called himself, gave you that information. You can't possibly think that some organization would carry out an identical experiment here, less than a year they were discovered!"

Mulder sighed. Scully knew his spooky theory was finally about to come out. "There is a lack of violence in this town. No rape, very little homicide. True, it sounds like there's something in the water. Maybe something IS in the water. Some kind of protein that's found in their water supply. I don't know. And maybe this, this chemical is being depleted after all these years. A bounce-back, withdrawal maybe, and these kids are feeling the effects first. Hear me out," he said as she opened her mouth. She shut it with a snap. "Or maybe there's a crackpot or group of crackpots that want to study violence. And they think the best place to do it is beautiful downtown Placid."

"Why not New York, or Washington?"

"One: small population in which to work, and two: those other places already have it. In a town like this, they can actually see what spawns violence."

"I can tell you that your theories might." Scully smiled to soften her verbal jab. "Seriously Mulder, will you just keep an open mind that maybe all this is a regular murder case, not an X-File?"

"And will you keep in mind that it might be?"

The agents retreated from the hall as it began to fill up with children. The bell had rung, and the students were filing out to the bus ramps. Scully and Mulder themselves walked to their own car.

Mulder stretched as he got out of the Taurus. The afternoon Texas sun was beginning to fall behind the horizon. After spending most of the afternoon at the school, the agents then made a trip to the small police office of Placid. The building was not much to look at, but it did have a nice porch in front. A small sign hung by the door proclaimed, "Placid Police Department."

Mulder turned to look at his partner. "Nice place."

Scully declined to remark, and entered the building. The overhead fans were slowly revolving. She was surprised that there could be so much heat in April in central Texas. She had been in Houston and experienced the humidity, but this was more arid, like the deserts of the southwest.

Scully approached the front desk, with Mulder in tow. "I'm looking for a detective Marshall."

"And you are?" the woman behind the desk asked.

"Special Agent Dana Scully with the Federal Bureau of Investigation." Scully flashed her credentials. "This is Special Agent Mulder."

"Afternoon."

The woman looked down at her papers then nodded her head toward a closed office door. "Detective Marshall has been expecting you." She lowered her voice. "Are you here about yesterday's little incident?"

"Incident? Ma'am, a woman was killed!"

"I know, Agent Scully, but I can't believe it! My little boy, Ricky, he's in that class. I know my son could never do anything like hurting the teacher. I mean, shoot, we raised him better than that!"

Scully smiled. "Ma'am, I'm sure your son didn't do anything. But since your son is there, would you mind if we asked you a few questions?"

"I guess not."

"Have you noticed you son, or any of his friends, acting strangely?"

"No. Not at all."

"Have they ever been involved with fights at school before."

"No." The color in the woman's cheeks was beginning to rise. "My son was a model student. In fact, he was one of the best students in the class. No one better than my little Ricky."

Mulder tried another avenue of inquiry. "Excuse me, Mrs.?"

"Beasley. Henrietta Beasley."

"Mrs. Beasley. Do you drink much water?"

"What do you mean?"

"I was curious about the water supply here in Placid. Do you drink much of it."

"Yes, sir, I do. We get out water from Lake Placid, to the north of us. The lake itself is fed from an underground spring. The water is wonderful. In fact, it's said that when Stephen Austin was attempting to get settlers to come here, he named it Placid because the lake was so calm. Everyone makes a big to-do about the serenity of the lake. Maybe y'all will want to take a trip up there. You can rent a boat for peanuts."

"Thank you ma'am, but Agent Scully doesn't like boats very much." He grinned at his partner. "One more thing. Have you noticed other visitors in town?"

"You mean like yourselves," she lowered her voice. "Or like the UFO's?"

"UFO's?" Scully practically groaned the question.

"Yeah. It seems that a bunch of people have noticed lights over the lake. I never believed them myself. But a bunch of them Taneyheads said they saw a bunch of lights last month."

"Taneyheads?" Mulder asked.

"The people of Taney, on the other side of the lake. They're just a bunch of rednecks up there. We call 'em Taneyheads 'cause they're stupid."

Mulder did not comment.

"Thank you for your time, Mrs. Beasley." Scully ended the conversation, hoping the police detective would be less inclined to talk of aliens. As they turned from the desk to the office the secretary had indicated, Scully whispered, "You don't think this has to do with aliens, do you, Mulder?"

"I've heard of extraterrestrials performing cattle mutilations, but never of them poisoning the water supply. But I thought we were supposed to keep an open mind."

Mulder raised a fist to rap on the office door, but it opened first. A large burly man stood there, not looking a bit surprised. "Y'all must be the Feds."

"Yes sir, I'm Agent Mulder and this is Agent Scully."

"Detective Marshall. Yep, I think I know what this case is about now. I'm sorry that you had to make the trip all the way out here to find out I solved it."

"You solved the case?"

"I did, Mr. Muldoon." Mulder did not correct the man. "Yep, it seems that the Garrott woman was carrying on some kind of relationship the principal over at that school. And I'm pretty darn sure that he whacked her."

"Why would he do something like that? What was his motive?" Scully asked.

The man motioned for the agents to enter his office. As he shut the door behind them, he said, "That woman out there may be a good secretary, but she has a big mouth. I don't want this stuff repeated just yet."

"And what stuff is that, sir?" Scully asked.

"Okay, let me give you the run down." The detective sat behind his desk. He hawked something into his handkerchief before continuing. "Garrott was a widow. She is receiving a survivor annuity from Uncle Sam. But there is a stipulation in the dead husband's will. It says that if she remarries, then the money is lost. And Mr. Fogarty, with whom she was on the verge of shacking up with, wants to marry her. She declines, 'cause she doesn't want to lose the money."

"But if she's working.?"

"Mr. Muldoon, people 'round here see money as a symbol. If you got it, then you can do what you will. If you don't got it, well, you might as well leave town and be a Taneyhead. Sure, we don't fight much, but we do like to hold on to our money."

"I'm sure, but do you think this is grounds for murder?"

"Ma'am, I certainly do. Have you met Mr. Fogarty."

Scully nodded. "I thought he was a nice enough man." She did not want to admit that she thought the man was hiding something.

"Well, he's a freak. Got his degree down in Austin, one of them liberal colleges. He comes back here, and after a few years, he's the principal. He's got some wacko ideas, let me tell you. And some of them work. But I can surely see that, somewhere in that liberal mind of his, that he thinks that killin' her's okay. This is the way I figure it."

Marshall coughed once, then continued. "Okay, he knows the kids are gonna be gone to the playground. He goes into the classroom, shuts the door. Pleads for marriage yet again, and when she says that she'd rather have her money, he whacks her. Pow! Then he cleans off the weapon and leaves. Kids come in, and being just kids, they think she's sleepin'. Eventually, one of the kids wises up to the fact that the teacher is never gonna get up, so they sound the alarm. Sound good?"

"I don't know." Mulder thought for a minute. "The kids had papers out on their desks, like they were taking a quiz. You don't think they knew the quiz was on the schedule and decided self-administer it?"

"No, I don't. What I do think is that they were taking the quiz when the bell rang for recess. The kids filed out, and never finished it."

"And you think it would have taken more than an hour before they realized that she was dead and not just sleeping?"

"It did, Mr. Muldoon. They're just stupid kids. I don't mean that in a bad way," he quickly explained as he saw Scully's eyes widen. "I just mean they don't know a whole lot yet. They've never seen a dead body before. They didn't know she was wacked."

"I'm sure they've seen it on TV, detective."

"Whatever. In any case, my story fits. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go get Mr. Fogarty. I suggest that you go to your motel rooms and pack up. I don't think that you'll be staying long. I'll call you when I bring the guy in, and you can question him then. How 'bout that?"

The agents reluctantly agreed. Scully would have to hear the man's claims before she was convinced that he committed the crime. But she agreed that it made sense.

"Come on, Mulder. This is a normal homicide case. We don't need to be here."

"Then why did they call us out here in the first place?"

"They thought it was weird, but through logical discovery of certain facts and the deductive method, they've discovered that it is not a bunch of homicidal third graders. Let's get back to the hotel."

"Mark my words, Scully. There is more here than anyone is letting on."

Scully closed her laptop after she saved her document. She had just finished a summary of the events that had transpired so far. She had included her own theories about the murder, as well as that of the police in Placid, but she downplayed Mulder's theory a bit. She could hear Skinner berating Mulder for actually thinking there was a chemical in the water that would make the people of Placid behave one way or the other.

Why can't he ever see the obvious? Scully thought to herself. He is so consumed with finding the intricate conspiracies and supernatural entities during every case. Whatever happened to the Oxford behavioral scientist that I once knew about? He doubted Boggs, and he seemed more like a genuine article than most of our cases. Why, in his quest for the truth, always find himself blinded by the light of it?

All this she would put in her notes, but she did not. Scully knew that such remarks would reflect badly on Mulder. Plus, she knew that there were many times when science did not explain the events that took place on their cases.

The harsh ringing of the motel phone jogged her from her thoughts. "Scully," she said into the phone as she answered it.

"Hey, its me. I just got a call from Marshall. He said that Fogarty is not at his house."

"You think he ran, Mulder?"

"Perhaps, but there's one last place we need to go before jumping to that conclusion."

Who's jumping to conclusions? She thought, but then asked, "What place is that?"

"Placid Elementary School. I told Marshall to meet us there. Let's get going Scully."

She sighed. "Okay."

A few minutes later, she got into the rented Taurus. As Mulder slid into the driver's seat, he grinned at her and said, "I knew there was something going on."

"Mulder!" she exclaimed with exasperation. "We have no clue yet that there is anything going on. Okay, so we discovered a man with a possible motive. But just because he is not at his house in the early evening does not mean that there is something strange happening in this town. Let's just use our investigative techniques and see where they lead us. I know that the nature of the X-Files usually disallows traditional methods, but until proof, I sincerely doubt that this case is an X-File."

Mulder put his hands over his heart and a feigned look of pain crossed his features. "You wound me, Scully. However, I think you are going to change your mind when you get to the school."

The faculty parking lot was empty except for a single car. A quick look inside the windows revealed nothing. Mulder said, "I bet you that it's Fogarty's car. I he's probably working late."

"What makes you think that it's his car?"

"Well, see this alumni sticker on the back window? That's Fogarty's alma mater." When Scully looked doubtful, he said, "His diploma is hanging in his office. Besides, who else besides and educator or some kind of engineer would think of driving a Tempo?"

Together they approached the double doors that led them into the mail hall of the school building. The lights were mostly down, and Scully could heat the faint hum of a janitor vacuuming. As they turned from the main hall towards the administrative offices, they agents noticed the lights on a few offices. The first lit office they came to was the nurse's office. A quick peek inside revealed that the room was empty. They continued to the principal's office. The door was shut, but light seeped under the crack at the bottom of the door.

Mulder knocked. "Mr. Fogarty?" he called. When he did not receive and answer, he placed one hand inside his jacket and the other on the door. He opened the door carefully. Scully looked past Mulder into the room, where she saw Fogarty lying on the floor, face down, next to his desk.

Scully pushed past her partner to the side of the fallen man. She checked for a pulse, and for breathing, but came up negative on both counts. "He's dead, Mulder," she said as she ran her eyes over the fallen body looking for wounds, "but I'll need to examine him a little closer before I can tell you what killed him."</p>

<p>"Maybe not, Scully." Mulder showed her a needle that he found among the papers on the man's desk. He held it with two fingers covered with a handkerchief. "It might have been this that killed him. Do you think he was into drugs, and he overdosed? Suicide, maybe?"

"No, Mulder." She tilted Fogarty's head, and showed her partner the small, red puncture wound on the side of the man's neck. "That needle was jabbed straight into his carotid artery. Whatever was in that syringe would have instantly flowed to his heart, then throughout the rest of his body. I doubt that he administered it himself. Although I might need to do some tests, it looks like murder to me."

"What does?" Marshall stepped into the room. "I got here as soon as I could, Mr. Muldoon. What's goin' on?"

The agents filled the police detective in on what they had discovered. "Now what's your theory, detective Marshall?" Mulder asked.

"First off, I still like my original idea. Perhaps he was so guilty about killing his woman that he killed himself."

"But why in this fashion? Why not use a gun or some other more traditional means? And Agent Scully did say that it would be difficult for him to have administered the drug himself."

The detective snorted but did not answer the questions. Instead, he asked, "Got any ideas of your own?"

"I do. I think whomever killed Mr. Fogarty got the drugs and the syringe from the nurse's office. And while I believe that guilt can drive one to suicide, I don't think that premeditated murder on Fogarty's part would cause him to take his own life. And if what you said about Mr. Fogarty's love like was true, than he did not have much of a social life. I think the killer was more interested in his professional life than his personal one."

"What makes you say that, Mulder?"

"Just look on his desk, Scully. Did you not see what he was working on?"

She shifted to look around Mulder so she could see the desk. While there were papers scattered in what seemed like a haphazard manner, she could tell what the late principal was working on.

Report cards.

"What do you propose we do now?"

"After we finish up here, let's get back to the motel and rest up. Tomorrow, I want to visit the third-grade class of Placid Elementary School."

"Good morning, Mrs. Helmsman." Mulder thought the chorus from the children was syrupy sweet. He was not sure if his elementary classes ever featured such sounds. Mrs. Helmsman was the substitute teacher that had taken Ms Garrott's place for the rest of the year. Mulder listened to see if she could remember his name better than Marshall could.

"As you know, Ms Garrott had an accident a few days ago. Now Principal Fogarty has also had an accident. These people are here to ask you a few questions about Ms Garrott. Maybe you can help them stop any more accidents. They are Agents Mulder and Scully of the FBI."

Scully stepped forward. They had agreed that Scully be the one to talk to the children. Mulder had made a crack about her maternal instincts, and she had shrugged it off. They both felt that talking to the children as a whole would be better, since they might open up with prodding from there peers, and the agents would not be denied by the parents.

"Hello, my name is Ms Scully."

"Good morning, Ms Scully," the children chimed in unison.

"I want you to remember something for me. I want you to remember what happened on Tuesday."

One little boy raised his hand. Scully nodded at him, giving him the permission to speak. "The police have already asked us about that."

"Well, I know, but we want to hear the stories for ourselves."

"Do you think we're liars?"

"No." Scully felt a cold ball of fear in her stomach. She did not want to alienate the children. Mulder was convinced the children knew something, and even if they did, Scully wanted to know what their story was. "We do not think that you are liars. But sometimes it's better to hear the story from the people that were there than take the word of someone who was not."

A girl shyly raised her hand. When she was recognized, she asked if she could go to the bathroom. Scully said, "Of course." She did not think the girl would leave, but just in case, she silently signaled for Mulder to keep an eye on her.

As Mulder watched the young girl from the window on the classroom door, Scully recognized another student.

"I know that Ms Garrott was killed. The police think we did it. Is that why you are here?"

"Well, we don't know what we think, and that's why we're asking you."

"Oh, okay." The girl sat down.

"Does anyone know what happen. I promise that you will not get in trouble if you know anything."

At this point, the young girl had come back from the bathroom. Mulder stood aside so the girl could get by. As she closed the door behind her, she locked it. From the folds of her blouse she pulled a gun. Mulder was the first to react to the weapon, but still he was too slow. All attention was turned to the girl, which allowed a few other students to pull out weapons of their own. Another had a gun, a few had knives, and there was one young boy with a pipe.

A boy stood up, and all the eyes trained on him. As the agents racked their brains, attempting to get out of this position without any loss of life, the boy said, "My name is Ricky Beasley. It's about time we got around to taking this class. It's ours now, got that, you suits?"

Mulder grimaced at the boy's trite words, but the student had Mulder's attention when he said, "You best not be doin' anything funny. We're holding you three adults hostage. If you don't cooperate, you just might hafta die!"

Fifteen minutes later, Mulder, Scully, and Mrs. Helmsman were sitting on the floor in the front of the class with their backs against the wall. The children had locked the door from the inside. They had covered the door's window with a black sheet of construction paper, and placed a note on the outside of the door that read, "Testing in progress. Do not disturb." The children explained that due to the end-of- the-year standardized tests that were talking place throughout the school, no one would suspect a thing.

"What do you want?" Mulder asked for the third time.

"I don't know," said Ricky petulantly. He was the self-proclaimed leader of the group.

"Well, make your mind up soon. My butt's growing numb." Scully covered her smile, but none of the children seemed amused. Many had opened up a cabinet and removed some cookies. They were having snack time. Others were drawing or making paper airplanes. Others slept. But all had an angry gleam in his or her eye, and tempers often flared. With guns trained on them, the agents did not want to make a move. Furthermore, they were hoping to avoid any bloodshed.

Everyone jumped when Mulder's cellular phone rang.

"Can I answer it?"

The boy that was watching nodded, but kept the gun pointed at Mulder. Mulder slowly reached into his pocket, pulled out the phone, and extended the antenna. "Mulder," he said as he pressed the 'talk' button.

"Mulder, where are you?"

"Director Skinner, it's good to hear from you. I'm in Placid Elementary School in Placid, Texas."

"What are you doing there?"

"It's my current case, sir, but I've run into some kind of trouble."

"I see. Is Agent Scully with you?"

"She is, sir."

"Okay, Mulder, you two had a presentation today. I'd like to know why you are in Texas and not in Washington. What kind of trouble?"

"We're being held hostage. I'm not in an danger right now," he glanced at the boy with the gun. "However, leaving is not an option at this point."

"You are being held hostage by whom?"

Mulder cringed. "A class full of third graders."

"WHAT?! This better not be a joke, Mulder, because your butt is in a sling as it is. Is there anyone in Placid I can call, to see if we can dissolve this situation."

"Detective Marshall, Placid Police Department." At this, the boy grabbed the phone from Mulder.

"You're not supposed to get help on this." The boy hit the 'off' button with his thumb. "We're in charge here, and you don't go until we say you go."

"Why are you doing this?" Scully pleaded. "Holding us is not going to make things better. It just makes the situation worse."

"I don't care. I'm so angry I could scream!" As Ricky said this, other children nodded in agreement. Scully thought they looked like pots ready to boil over and spew violence everywhere. She hoped that didn't happen as much as she hoped Skinner could get the number of the PPD.

Mulder noticed the young boy was sweating. Understanding that it might be more than the situation causing the student to perspire, Mulder asked, "Boy, it sure is hot in here."

"Don't think we don't know it!" one girl cried. "The freaking AC has been off for more than a week, and we're just about roasting in here!" Other children began to rant and rave about the heat, but not loud enough to raise any suspicions from neighboring classrooMs. Scully leaned over to her partner. "You know, Mulder," she whispered, unheard over the commotion. "The air conditioning is on. I can feel the air circulating in the room. I think I can feel it from that vent above us."

"I know, Scully. It makes you wonder, doesn't it?" To the boy standing next to him, Mulder remarked, "I think I can fix the air, if you'd let me try."

The armed boy thought it over, then relented. Mulder stood up and moved dragged a chair beneath the vent. The vent was screwed in place, but he was able to work it open. Plaster fell from the ceiling onto his dark suit. With a grunt, he pulled the grate free.

"What's this?" he asked. From the opening Mulder pulled a small bronze object. It was about the size and shape of a Rubix Cube, but it was pockmarked with tiny holes. "Check this thing out, Scully." He handed the object down to her.

She turned it thoughtfully over in her hand. She sniffed at the box, but could not detect an odor. Then she noticed that the box had left some powdery residue on her hands. She was about to make a comment to Mulder when he spoke to the class.

"Well, I can feel the air passing through here. That box must have been blocking it." As he said this, he eyed Scully with an "I told you so" look. She rolled her eyes.

Mulder replaced the grate as best he could, then jumped down from the chair. When his feet smacked the floor, the children jumped. Instantly there was a shot fired.

Ricky Beasley seemed to have gone insane. The other children were yelling in hatred, but with him, not at him. He fired three shots from the handgun before the recoil knocked it out of his hand. The first shot blew the globe on the filing cabinet apart. The second blasted a hole in the window.

The third hit Mrs. Helmsman.

Scully swore as she rushed to the woman's side. The wound was deep, and Scully acted fast. She applied pressure to the wound, stopping the blood flow with Ms Garrott's sweater that was still hanging on the chair.

"Stop it!" Mulder shouted. He had his gun out, and held it threateningly, though he was loathe to use it. The children hushed. The open window combined with the force of the AC to ventilate the room. The children's violence dropped with the temperature. Some even began to cry.

At that moment, the door into the hallway burst open. Detective Marshall rushed through, gun in hand. He surveyed the scene, and holstered the gun when there seemed to be no trouble.

"Funny," Mulder murmured to Scully. "I didn't hear any sirens."

"What happened here, Muldoon?"

"Well, Detective, the children brought guns and other weapons to school. It seems there were acting out some irrational anger. And using the anger, they were able to hold me and Agent Scully hostage, and shoot the substitute. They had the potential to become killing machines.

"Whoa," he saw the box lying on the floor where Scully had dropped it. He picked it up as he approached the women. "Are you okay, ma'am?"

"She's not critical, but she'll need help soon." Scully answered.

"I'll run out to my car and radio for the ambulance. I'll take this with me, file it with the other evidence. Looks like your case is done. Good work, Ms Scully, Mr. Muldoon." Marshall ran out of the room, hurrying to call the police.

"Hey Scully, how do you suppose he knew that box was evidence?"

FBI Headquarters
Office of Assistant Director Skinner
Two days later

"I'm glad to see that you can hold your own against some 8-year-old children, Mulder. But frankly, I am a little disappointed in your report."

"What's the matter with it, sir?"

"A number of things. Your opinions differ on the nature of the killings. Agent Scully, you believe that the woman was murdered by the principal, then he took his own life?"</p>

<p>"Yes, sir." Agent Scully answered.

"Then how you explain the children's aberrant behavior?"

"I believe it was the stress over finding their teacher dead, sir, and the fact that everyone seemed convinced that they did it."

"But the children seem fine now?"

"Yes, sir."

"Explanation?"

Scully hesitated for a moment, then proceeded with caution. "I don't have one, sir. It was like they worked out their anger on us, then reverted back to children."

"And the teacher that was shot?"

"She's fine, sir. She'll be sore for a few days, and she might get a teaching job elsewhere, but she'll be okay."

"So the official report will reflect your views on the case, Agent Scully." At this point Skinner turned to Mulder. "Mulder, your report has some views that conflict with Agent Scully's. You claim the children committed the murders, due to-"Skinner glanced at the report and read from it-"'a small metal box that exuded some form of anger-causing chemical into the air conditioning system.'" Skinner sighed. "Mulder, you have no evidence. This case does not make sense."

"Well, sir, that is the nature of these cases. As to the missing evidence, the police detective Marshall picked it up, claiming to file it."

Skinner took his glasses off and massaged the bridge of his nose. "There is no Detective Marshall, Agent Mulder."

"What?" Scully asked. "We met him, worked with him."</p>

<p>"I know, but when I called the office in Placid, the secretary, a Mrs. Beasley, claimed to not have a Marshall on the force."

Mulder stood up, paced once, and turned to his superior. "This is crazy! It's just another lie amongst the others! Scully and I found a box that I believe introduced a violence drug into the classroom. It turned those children into monsters. It was like someone was experimenting with violence patterns in children, trying to bring out their bad side. And again they're covering it up!"

Skinner began to shout himself. "Number one: you cannot make that kind of accusation without substantial evidence. Number two: who would want to run an experiment to see if they could make third graders violent?"

Mulder leaned over Skinner's desk and quietly said, "Whoever he is, I bet he smokes Morleys."

With that, Mulder leaves Skinner's office. Scully sighed and looked at the plaque that said "Walter Skinner." Mulder and Skinner have so much respect for each other, but she did not see why they always had to butt heads.

"Is there anything else, Agent Scully?"

"No, sir." Scully took her cue and exited the office.

Skinner watched her go, then sighed. He hated doing this, but it needed to be done. He had a debt to pay. He picked up the phone and dialed a number. A raspy voice answered.

"He doesn't have it," Skinner said. "The policeman kept it."

"So there is no proof. Very good." The man on the other end of the phone took a drag on his cigarette, then stubbed in out in the ashtray. The End