Title: The Family G-Man
Authors: Neoxphile and FelineFemme
Rating: we're shooting for NC-17, ya'll better take cover 
Spoilers: Seasons 1-9

Category: Alternate Reality, Snark, Family Fic, plus a dollop Angst
for the beginning (and despite what chapter one leads you to believe,
this is *not* a character death story)

Disclaimer: So yeah, we're going to be borrowing CC's characters, and
the idea behind "The Family Man," which put a twist on "It's a Wonderful Life" 
which blatantly copied "A Christmas Carol." We hope the print doesn't get
blurry from being a copy of a copy of...

Website: with pictures! http://www.mulderscreek.com/familygman.html

Summary: What if he could go back and change things, save the son one
lost and give the other the family she wanted? Could it keep them
safe? 

In season three Bill Mulder and Missy Scully have closer calls than either
realizes, and the year finds Mulder and Scully with a new home and a
second bundle of joy to share it with.

~*~*~
Season Three - chapters 23-35
~*~*~ 


Chapter Twenty-Three

Navajo Reservation

Moments after the smoking man leaves, Scully arrives, and is
horrified to see Albert's son tending to the older man's wounds.

"What happened?"

"There were men," Hosteen says simply. "They were looking for your
husband."

"Where is he?"

Albert shakes his head. Scully runs down to find the boxcar Mulder
called her from with smoke still pouring out of the opening. She
looks around.

"Mulder!"

Seeing no one, she looks ready to cry.

~*~*~
 
Navajo Reservation 
Northwest Of Los Alamos, New Mexico

Scully is driving along when a bright light approaches from behind
her. A helicopter circles in front of her and flies along beside her,
shining the searchlight in her face. Scully stops the car, unable to
see. The helicopter lands and three troopers get out. One points her
gun at Scully while another opens the door and pulls her out.

"Out of the car! Come on! Hands on top, spread your legs!" a trooper
barks at her.

He forces her to do so while a female trooper gets in the car. She
looks back at him while he frisks her.

Even though she's frightened, they give her hope. "Where's Agent
Mulder?"

"Turn and face away!" The man takes her gun. "Where are the files?"

"In the trunk." Scully is very thankful that Page is with her mother.
The baby would be terrified by the shouting.

He motions to the female trooper, who gets out of the car and goes to
the trunk. She opens her bag and finds a file but no tape. She shakes
her head and puts the file in her jacket.

"We need the DAT copy," the trooper growls at her.

"I don't have it!"

"Who has it?"

"Agent Mulder."

He motions to the female and the troopers run back to the helicopter.
"Let's go!" The troops file back in and the helicopter takes off.

Watching them leave, her hopes slip away. They don't know where
Mulder is either. She fights tears, knowing that crying will only
make her a danger on the roads. Sniffing, she decides she has to be
strong, if not for her own sake, but their children's sake.

~*~*~
 
The night of her suspension, Scully twists and turns in bed, unable
to sleep. Not only is she worried sick about Mulder, she couldn't
find the digital tape everyone thinks that Mulder died for. Everyone
but her, that is. Though she outwardly agrees with those who say he's
dead, she has a firm conviction that Mulder will be fine. He has more
lives than a cat.

As she stares at the ceiling, the doorbell rings twice. She turns on
the lights and looks through the peephole. Perplexed, she unlocks her
door and looks at Frohike.

"Frohike?"

"I know it's late but I heard the news." She looks down at the bottle
of wine in his hand.
"Maybe I should go. Pardon my presumptuousness."

"How much have you had to drink?"

He holds up the near-empty bottle. "Do you recycle?"

She smiles. Afterwards, he sits at her table. She pours him a cup of
coffee.

"He was a good friend. A redwood among sprouts." He takes a sip of
his coffee as she pours herself a cup. "I guess this means he's
passing you the torch." She knows that it's as close as he can bear
to admit she's been widowed.

She sits down and looks at him. "Uh, I'm afraid not. I'm soon to be
out of a job."

"Those sons of bitches. They're rigging the game." He looks furious.

"And like rats, they just scatter back into the woodpile."

She takes a sip as he pulls a newspaper article out of his jacket. He
hands it to her. The headline reads: "Homicide Victim's Body
Discovered at City Dump."

"The rats that killed the cat."

"What's this?"

"A news item about Kenneth Soona, a.k.a. 'The Thinker.' The man who
hacked the MJ files. The ones he gave to Mulder."

"'Kenneth J. Soona was killed execution style in what appears to be a
professional murder. His body found in the Trenton City landfill.'
What's the date on this?" She scans down the page and comes across
'The body was discovered April 16.' This was the day before
yesterday. This is after Mulder disappeared. Could they be so
stupid?"

~*~*~

Mulder drifts, imagining that he sees people in the shadows, but
they're too far away for him to see. Until one steps out towards him
and stands over him. Deep Throat.

"I was first struck by the absence of time, having depended on it so
completely as a measure of myself and my life. Moving backwards into
the perpetual night that consumes purpose and deed, all passion and
will. I come to you, old friend, with the dull clarity of the dead
not to beckon you but to feel the fire and intensity that still live
in you...and the heavy weight of your burdens which I had once borne.
There is truth here, old friend, if that's all you seek but there's
no justice or judgment without which truth is a vast, dead hollow. Go
back. Do not look into the abyss or let the abyss look into you.
Awaken the sleep of reason and fight the monsters within and
without."

Somehow Mulder sees something. It's some time ago. Aliens run inside
the boxcar screaming as canisters of hydrogen cyanide are thrown in.
They pound against the walls, desperately trying to find a way out of
their damnation as the lid is closed and they are being slowly killed
by the gas. One can make out small words.

A hybrid begs. "Help me, please! Let me out! Please, let me out!"

Soon everything fades, the scene and Deep Throat both. He's not
alone long, another man steps out to him. Mulder doesn't know him.

"Who are you?" Mulder croaks, his voice weak.

"I'm your great-uncle Saul," the man tells him. All Mulder knows is
that he looks like his father would have, if he'd seen a century.

"I didn't know I had family other than my parents."

Saul just gives him a gentle look, and changes the subject. "The lies
your father told are a pox and poison to his soul and now you are
here because of them. Lies he thought he might bury forever, a truth
he could not live with. He confided in me, Fox. He's ashamed of the
choices he made so long ago, when you were just a boy. You are the
memory, Fox. It lives in you. If you were to die now, the truth will
die, because your father is too weak to act, too broken. And only the
lies would survive us."

Mulder looks about, frantic. "My sister? Is she here?"

"No. You must find the truth Fox, for both your sakes."

 Saul winks out, and Mulder looks back up at the stars. 

~*~*~

Mulder and Scully's Apartment

Baby on lap, Scully distractedly pets Page's thin blond hair. At
seven months, the girl no longer looks bald as a cue ball. Tears
prickle the corners of her eyes as she thinks about how Mulder said
they should teach their daughter to play pool.

"Ummm, mumumum," Page whines fretfully, and not even at her most
imaginative can Scully convince herself that the noises are meant to
mean "Mama." She picks Page up and puts her on the couch, which she
can now perch on unaided, given it's not too long.

"It's ok, baby," Scully calls, going to the freezer. Maggie swears
that frozen waffles soothe sore gums, but this is the first time that
teething seems to give Page any trouble.

" Here you go." Page snatches the waffle from Scully even before
she's back on Scully's lap, and stuffs it into her own mouth with
both fists. "That's better. It's too bad your Daddy isn't here right
now. An April heat wave in DC? He'd never believe it." She picks up a
magazine off the coffee table and fans them both. Page laughs, which
sounds odd since the waffle muffles the sound.

Just then there's a knock at the door. Figuring it's Frohike or one
of the other gunmen, she calls, "Just a second." Holding the baby,
who in turn is holding the waffle with a death grip, she goes to the
answer.

To her surprise, it's Skinner at the door. "You said you needed to
see me concerning the investigation?"

She blinks. "Yes sir. But I thought that I'd be stopping by the
office."

"I was in the neighborhood- " Skinner's voice trails off and his eyes
drop to her waist. It's only then that she realizes how revealing the
thin white t-shirt she's wearing is. With nothing to disguise her
five-months-pregnant belly, she can nearly predict his next words.
"Is there something you and Mulder have neglected to tell me?"

His stern voice makes her blush. "I guess it slipped our minds," she
answers defiantly.

"When?"

"Late August."

Skinner nods, then dismisses the subject without further comment,
which makes her nervous. "Your message said you have something to
show me?"

"Yes, sir. I came across a news article. A man's body was found in
New Jersey and I have reason to believe that he was killed by the
same man responsible for Agent Mulder."

"Can I see it?"

She unfolds the article and hands it to him. "The date of death
postdates Agent Mulder's disappearance. Now, you already have the
ballistics data from Agent Mulder's father on file. I would like you
to run it against the ballistics from this man's case."
 
"Trying to prove what?" Skinner asks.
 
"Well, if both men were killed by the same weapon, we could prove
that Agent Mulder didn't kill his father and it could also help us
find the man who did.

"You've been relieved of your investigative function."

"Yes, I know that, sir. I just thought this might be helpful."

Skinner tears up the article. "I'm afraid not." She stares at him in
disbelief and takes back the crumpled and torn article. "This case
would have been handled by the Trenton P.D. They're on our drugfire
ballistics database. If there was a match in the two slugs, all the
bells and whistles would have gone off by now."
 
"You don't want to check?"
 
"Agent Scully, I think you underestimate the duties and
responsibilities of my position as assistant director."

"I was just trying to cooperate with your investigation, sir."

"To mitigate your situation and then add to your chances of
reinstatement, isn't that right? I suppose that's more important now
that you're a single mother." He sneers and she wants to slap him.

"No. I just want answers. I love him, you know I need to know what
happened."
 
"And so do I." Scully looks at him, and he looks slightly
embarrassed. He hurries to clarify his answer. "I want to know what
happened too. I want to know why I was asked to execute a search
warrant on your apartment to look for a digital cassette. He the
warrant down on the kitchen counter.

"I don't have it," Scully insists.

"Is this tape what Agent Mulder died for?" Skinner barks.

She wants to scream at him that Mulder isn't dead, but she doesn't.
"I believe so."

"You want to bring me a smoking gun, Scully? You bring me this tape.
Otherwise, I would ask you stay home, sit tight and let us do our
job."

She looks wounded. "If you think it's best, sir."

"I do."
 
Skinner leaves then, leaving Scully to watch him go. Once he's out of
sight, she closes the door. "Don't worry, sweetie, Daddy's fine, no
matter what the mean man said."

Page's only response is to stuff her fist into her own mouth.

~*~*~

 The Cigarette-Smoking Man walks up to Skinner's car and takes out a
cigarette and puts it in his mouth.

"Did you ask her about the tape?"

"She says she doesn't have it."

"Is that what she says?" He lights the cigarette.

"Yes, that's what she says."

"Well, that's unfortunate for everyone."

~*~*~

Navajo Reservation
Two Grey Hills, New Mexico

Mulder sits in a congregation of the Navajo. He is still draped in
the blanket. Albert walks over and sits down across from him.

"You must be careful now to end the ceremony properly. If you leave,
you must not do any work, change clothes or bathe for four days."

"That's really going to cut into my love life." Everyone laughs.

"The boys have a gift for you."

The youngest boy walks up to Mulder and hands him a small pouch.
Mulder opens it and pours out sunflower seeds. He smiles.

"You asked for them during your worst fevers."

"During my fever, I...I left here and traveled to a place."

"This place. You carry it with you. It is inside of you. It is the
origin place."

"It wasn't a dream?" Mulder asks.

"Yes." Mulder stares at him, perplexed. A man stands and wipes out
the design on the board that had been drawn on before. Albert stands.
"We are done now."

Everyone else stands and starts to leave, except Mulder, who remains
seated as the morning sounds ring in.

~*~*~

Boston General Hospital

To distract herself, Scully brings Page to see her grandfather in the
hospital. Just as she's arriving, she sees Mrs. Mulder leaving Bill's
room. It surprises her a little, since she knows they're divorced.

"Mrs. Mulder?"

"Dana, hello." Mrs. Scully musters up a faint smile for Page, but
the baby twists away.

"Um...I know what you may have heard from the F.B.I. but I have a
very strong feeling that Mulder is going to be found."

"You call him Mulder." She looks as surprised by that as the news
that he might be alive.

"Force of habit," Scully explains. "I think he's still alive."

"How do you know?" Mrs. Scully demands to know.

"I just have a very strong feeling." She shrugs. "I don't feel like
he's gone."

The Well-Manicured Man walks down the hall towards them.

"I promise I'll let you know as soon as I do," Scully tells her
mother-in-law.

"Thank you. Thank you very much." Teena gives her an awkward hug, one
that makes her feel bad for Mulder. Did the woman have no idea how to
show affection? Teena hurries away.

Scully is about to go to Bill's room, but the Well-Manicured Man is
standing there, staring at her.

"Hello. I see you know Bill Mulder. So do I. Do you think we might
find a moment to speak?"

"About?" Scully tries to shift Page to a more comfortable position.
She and Mulder have talked about getting one of those backpack
carriers now that the baby is getting too big for a chest one - or
maybe it's Scully who is getting too big- but they haven't bought one
yet.

"A very serious matter. Please...can we find someplace quiet?" They
start to walk away. "I couldn't help overhearing your conversation.
You think the son is still alive?"

Scully gives him a suspicious look. "Who are you?"

"I'm a member of a kind of consortium. We represent certain global
interests."

"What kind of interests?"

"Interests that would be extremely threatened by the digital tape
that you are no longer in possession of."

They stop.

"Threatened enough to murder?" she asks, feeling dread.

"Oh my, yes."

"What do you know about my..." she trails off, suddenly wary.
"Mulder?"

"That he is dead. Quid pro quo."

"You're lying."

"I'm not here to tell you lies."

"What are you here for?"

"To tell you your life is in danger too." He pauses, giving Page a
pointed look. "Yours and hers."

She stares at him, then starts off. "Leave me alone."

"They'll kill you one of two ways."

She turns back and looks at him. He walks back up to her.

"They'll send someone, possibly two men. They'll kill you in your
home or in the FBI parking garage with an unregistered weapon which
will be left at the scene. Using false documents supplied by
associates of mine, they'll be out of the country in less than two
hours."

"You said there were two ways."

"Yes. He or she will be someone close to you. Someone you trust.
They'll arrange a meeting or come to your house unexpectedly. They
might spare the child, they might not. I'm sure her fate won't be
pleasant one way or the other. Do you have someplace else you might
stay?"

"Why, why kill me?"

"You want something they don't. Justice. And because they are now
quite certain you don't have the computer copy of the files they're
looking for, just close ties to the one who does."

"Why are you protecting me?" she asks, not sure that he is.

"You daughter reminds me of my grandchildren." When he sees that she
doesn't buy it, he goes on. "I feel my colleagues are
acting...impulsively and your death will draw unnecessary attention
to our group."

"You're not protecting me, you're protecting yourself," she accuses.

"Why should that surprise you? Motives are rarely unselfish."

"What kind of business are you in?"

"We predict the future and the best way to predict the future is to
invent it."

Scully stares at him, a look of both disdain and respect on her face.

"Good day, young lady." He walks away.

 ~*~*~

Later

Bill Mulder almost chokes on his water when he sees who's at the door
this time. "A lot of people came to see me, but I never thought I'd
see a ghost," he says, his baggy eyes bugging.

Mulder shifts his feet self-consciously at the doorway, "Well, I used
to be dead. Does that count?" He's just so relieved to see his father
is alive, he doesn't mind giving the old man a little scare. Well, he
figures it's just a little scare compared to the other stuff his dad
used to be involved with.

"Come here, Fox," The elder Mulder says, reaching out an arm
connected to an IV drip.

Mulder walks over and holds his father's arm reassuringly. "So, aside
from a dead man walking, who else stopped by?"

"Your mother, your wife with my granddaughter, too many doctors and
nurses." He squeezes Mulder's hand on his arm, "and now my son, who
was dead and now is alive again."

"They must give you a lot of meds if you're quoting the Bible, Dad."
Mulder half-grins, then his brow furrows. "Mom came by?"

"I was just as surprised seeing her here as I am seeing you here,"
Bill chuckles, then coughs. After taking a sip from the cup his son
hands him, he goes on, "She's a good woman, your mother. She raised
you right." He nods, fighting the sleepiness of the sedatives kicking
in.

"Dad, you mentioned something about merchandise," Mulder says, seeing
the medication taking effect, "what did you mean?"

"Merchandise," Bill repeats, "yes." He starts to reach into a
nonexistent pants pocket, and remembers where he is. "I was going to
give," he frowns, trying to concentrate and stay awake. "My wallet,"
he finally says.

"Right here, Dad," Mulder says, picking up the plain-looking black
leather wallet from his father's overnight bag. Guess his mom did
stop by after all.

"1973," Bill sighs. "The photo."

Mulder pulls out a familiar photo folded up between the dollar bills.
"This?"

The elder Mulder nods. "Answers are there," he says, yawning
mightily. "Fox."

"Yes?" Mulder asks. Odd how, after all these years, he still wants to
please his father somehow, despite what he knows now.

Bill smiles, about to say something, then yawns. "Damn meds." He
sighs, his eyes drooping despite his best efforts.

"It's okay, Dad," his son says, pulling up the bed sheets, "get some
rest. You need it."

Bill Mulder watches his son leave, wondering if this was all a dream,
wondering if he's doing the right thing. But Fox will always do the
right thing, he thinks sleepily, he will do what his mother and I
never had the guts to. Just like his Uncle Saul. And with that
thought, he falls asleep, sleeping the thoughtless sleep of the
heavily sedated.

~*~*~

 Washington, DC

Scully walks in. Her phone is ringing. She picks it up.

"Hello?"

"Dana? It's your sister."

"Hi Missy."

"Hi, where've you been?"

"Mulder's dad is in the hospital in Boston, Page and I were just
visiting him."

"Oh, well, I was worried about you."

"Why?"

"Because I haven't heard from you since Mom told me Fox is missing."

"Missy, something strange happened to me today. I'm...I'm a bit
freaked out by it."

"Okay, well, I, I want to come over. I want to talk to you. Are you
going to be there for a while?"

"Yeah, yeah, I will."

"I'll see you in a bit." Melissa promises.

~*~*~

Washington DC
Hertz Rent-A-Car

Glancing at the wall clock in car rental place, while waiting for the
keys to his rental, Mulder pulls out his cell phone, hoping it's not
too late. He has to get through in time.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Melissa, it's- Fox." He grimaces, remembering her instance on
calling him Fox.

"You're home." She sounds very surprised.

"Yeah, just got back this very minute, and I was hoping to catch you.
Listen, Scully said you were going to come over. Do you mind waiting
until tomorrow? She and I have a little catching up to do..." He lets
his voice trail off suggestively.

"Oh, no problem. Thanks for calling before I left."

"You're welcome. I guess we'll see you tomorrow."

And he guesses that she's really going to see another tomorrow now.

~*~*~

Meanwhile...

Scully hangs up and walks off. The phone rings and Scully walks back
over and picks it up.

"Hi."

The person on the other end hangs up. She hangs up and thinks. Scully
realizes that her killers wanted to make sure she was in the
apartment and frantically calls Melissa. The phone rings.

"Come on, come on, come on..."

The busy signal howls in her ear. Sighing, she hopes to see Missy on
the way over, and flag her down.

She hangs up and is about to rush out the door when she thinks of
something. Going to her drawer, she pulls out her gun and checks the
clip. She pockets it, turns off the lamp and leaves. Outside, a car
pulls up, nearly hitting her.

Skinner swings the passenger side door open as Scully looks at him
warily. "Scully, get in the car. I need to talk to you, it's very
important."

"I was just going over to my sister's."

"I'll drop you by there, right now, I need for you to come with me."

"Where are we going?"

"To a place we can talk in private." Scully stares at him, not
trusting him. She zippers her purse and gets in the car.

~*~*~

Mulder spots Skinner's car a long ways off, and realizes he must have
already picked up Scully. Since they don't have separate apartments
this time around, Mulder can think of only one other place Skinner
and Scully might talk. He figures a short cut will save time, given
he knows where they're going. He doesn't notice a car entering the
parking lot to the apartment complex as he drives off.

~*~*~

The Basement Office 

"After you." Skinner walks in and Scully cocks her gun. Skinner looks
back slightly. "Eyes forward. Put your hands where I can see them.
Don't turn around or I'll blow your head off." She turns on the
lights. "Don't think I won't do it, you son of a bitch."

"No, I believe you. Just stay cool, I'm with you."

"Take two steps forward." They do, allowing Scully to step inside the
office. She closes the door. "Now move slowly towards the chairs."

Skinner, hands clearly visible extended at his sides, walks towards a
chair. Scully follows him tightly and turns on the lights. She is
breathing heavily. Page, not thrilled to be in the baby carrier,
whimpers.

"Turn around and sit down on your hands."

He does so very slowly. She throws down her purse and stands across
from him. "Are you going to let me tell you why I'm here?" he asks.

"I know why you're here. I want to know who sent you. Whose errand
boy you are."

"No one sent me."

She glares at him and sits down in the other chair slowly, gun still
aimed. "You got the rest of your life to give me answers. How high
does it go, Skinner? Who's pulling the strings?"

"You can kill me, Scully, but you'll only be doing their work for
them. Forget about your job and family. You'll spend the rest of your
life behind bars, there isn't a federal judge that they couldn't
persuade."

"What's the alternative? Let you kill me and Page now?"

"I didn't come here to kill either of you. I came here to give you
something. I've got the digital tape."

"You're lying."

"I've got it in my pocket. I took it out of Mulder's desk."

Scully hears footsteps approaching and turns to see a shadow covering
the light shining under the door. Skinner looks back at her and pulls
out his gun. She looks back at him quickly and they both have their
guns fixed on one another. Neither member of the stand-off is willing
to flinch. They stand up.

~*~*~

Chapter Twenty-Four

"Drop your weapon! Put it down, Scully!" Skinner demands.

"No way."

"I said put it down!"

"I said no! You're setting me up!" Scully shouts. Page begins to cry.

"I'm trying to help you."

"Then put your weapon down and sit down."

"Not a chance."

"You said you weren't here to kill me, Skinner, now prove it."

"I didn't come here to have a gun shoved in my face by a pregnant
woman either."

"Damn it, Skinner!"

Mulder kicks the door open and aims his gun at Skinner. Skinner is
shocked, Scully is even more so. Skinner points his gun at Mulder.

"Drop your weapon! I said-" Mulder warns Skinner.

"Back off!"

"I said put it down!"

"What the hell is this? What are you pulling here?"

"You okay, Scully?"

"Yeah. We're both fine."

"Get his gun." She reaches out for his gun. "Give her the gun. Give
it to her!"

"All right." Faced with no other choice, Skinner hands her the gun.
Mulder lowers his weapon.

"Now, I want an explanation."

Scully keeps her own gun trained on Skinner. "I was warned that
somebody would kill me...someone I trusted."

"I'm going to reach into my coat pocket and end this charade...all
right?" Mulder nods. Skinner pulls out the DAT tape. "I assume you
both know what this is? Now, I want an explanation."

"Your cigarette-smoking friend tried to kill my father for that tape,
and then he killed me."

"What are you talking about?"

"I was a dead man. Now, I'm back."

"What is on this tape?" Skinner asked, ignoring Mulder's nonsensical
response.

"Defense department files that weren't supposed to exist. The truth
about our government's involvement in a global conspiracy of silence
about the existence of extraterrestrial life."

Scully reaches out for the tape. "Give me the tape."

"Uh-uh, this tape stays with me."

Mulder cocks his gun and aims it. "Give her the tape."

"If what you say is true, the information on this tape is valuable
enough to kill for. Then it's the only leverage we've got to bring
these men to justice. It's not going to do us any good if it falls
back into their hands!"

"Then you better make sure it doesn't." Mulder uncocks his gun and
lowers it. "Come on, Scully, let's go."
 
"Where?"

"There are truths out there that aren't on that tape."

He walks out. She glares at Skinner, then puts his gun on the desk
and walks out. Skinner looks at the tape and puts it in his pocket.
Down the hall, Mulder presses the down button for the elevator and
looks at Scully, who walks up to him. She stares at him for a second,
then looks down, smiling.

"Mulder, I am..."

"Scully, whatever you're going to say..." His arm goes around her
waist reflexively.

"I saw your mom at the hospital. I told your mother that you were
going to be okay."

"How did you know?"

The elevator dings. "I just knew." The door opens and Scully walks
past him into the elevator. He follows and presses a button. The door
closes.

~*~*~

The Lone Gunmen's Office 
Washington, DC

Byers is making a CD catch light, spilling rainbows for Page's
amusement. She gurgles happily. Langly, Scully and Mulder are all
looking at the consortium photograph under a magnifying glass. From
left to right, the men lined up are the Cigarette-Smoking Man,
William Mulder, Victor Klemper, the 1st Elder, Deep Throat, the 3rd
Elder, the 2nd Elder and the Well-Manicured Man.

"That's my father on the left there."

"This was taken when?" Byers asks, glancing over at the photo.

"About 1973."

"Amazing. Langly, take a look." Byers walks around Mulder as Langly
walks over to the magnifying glass.

"Do you recognize any of these men?"

"Are you familiar with a post-World War II project known as Operation
Paper Clip?"

"Our deal with the devil. The U.S. government provided safe haven for
certain Nazi war criminals in exchange for their scientific
knowledge."

Langly points out Klemper. "I know who this man is. Victor Klemper."

Mulder looks through the magnifying glass.

"The man standing next to your father is one of those criminals,
though not the most famous of the bunch. Wernher von Braun, designer
of the V-2 rockets that leveled London, may be the most notorious,
but Victor Klemper certainly takes the prize for the most...evil Nazi
to escape the Nuremburg trials," Byers explains.

"What did he do?"

"He experimented on the Jews...drowned them, suffocated them, put
them in pressure chambers. All in the name of science," Langly says.

"Together with Von Braun, Klemper helped us win the space race. Using
his scientific data on the effects of high-altitude flying, we were
able to put astronauts on the moon before the Soviets."

Langly sounds sardonic. "One giant step for mankind."

"What would he be doing in a photo with your father?" Scully asks
Mulder.

"I don't know. Do you guys recognize anybody else in the photograph?"

Langly shakes his head.

"No. Operation Paper Clip was supposed to have been scrapped in the
1950s but if this is 1973..." Byers trails off.

"Whatever happened to Klemper?" Scully asks.

"He's still here, living very well at the expense of the American
taxpayer."

The door opens and they turn to see Frohike, who stands in the
doorway and looks at Mulder. "Unbelievable! We thought you were
history." They hug.

"You're going to have to wait a little longer for my video
collection, Frohike," he jokes before noticing the expression on his
wife's face. "What?" She just shakes her head.

~*~*~
 
Rural West Virginia 
The Next Day

Mulder and Scully walk down a long cavern, shining their flashlights
as they go.

"Mulder, look at this." On the walls, she can make out various file
cabinets. "It looks like they're storing records."

"Of what?"

Scully pulls open a drawer and looks at the various folders. "Of
medical files, by the look of it. Got names...alphabetized."

Mulder goes to a switch in the wall and flips it. The hallway lights
up, revealing thousands upon thousands of file cabinets lined up,
ceiling to floor. "Lots of files."

"Lots and lots of files," she agrees.
 
He runs back over to her. "What's in these files?"

"Standard medical forms. These are birth certificates, small pox
vaccination certificate and then there's this." She points to a small
container in a bag that is marked "Sterile, do not tamper." He looks
at it.

"What is this?"

"It's an old tissue collection cassette, the new ones are plastic."

"Do all these files contain the same materials?"

"Yes, exactly." She puts the file back.

"What year was this person born?"

"1955. All of these files are 1955."

"Let's go find 1964." They run down the hallway and find 1964. Mulder
pulls the drawer open. "You're looking for a file on me?"

He finds it and pulls it out. "Dana Katherine Scully."

"What?" Scully runs her fingers down the bag with the tissue
collection box. The vaccination sheet on her reads: "SMALL POX VACC.
No. 29510 Int. Scully, Dana Katherine 3170 W. 53 Road Indianapolis,
Maryland."

He almost cries tears of relief when he sees that it's just one of
the old-style samples. It'd be nice to check Krycek's file to see if
his is one of the newer samples, but he doesn't know Krycek's real
birth date, just the several approximations he found in the man's
paperwork when he looked up his address.

He puts it back and runs down the hallway to another drawer. He
pulls it open and pulls out another file.

"That's your sister's file," Scully notes.

"Yeah." He scans down the page. 

"What are you looking for?"

"I don't know."

He looks at the file name, which reads: "SUBJECT NAME: MULDER,
Samantha Ann BIRTH DATE: 11/21/65 ID 378671"

"Take a look at this, Scully."

He pulls it back to reveal another sticker which reads: "SUBJECT
NAME: MULDER, Fox William BIRTH DATE: 10/13/61 ID 292544"

"This file was originally mine."

 "I don't understand."

He does, though. His mother must have picked him, and his father
vetoed the decision at the last minute. Or maybe the other way
around.

The lights turn off and a loud rumbling emanates from outside. Mulder
turns on his flashlight. "Wait here, Scully."

"Mulder, where are you going?" Mulder starts off, running quickly
past the file cabinets. He opens the door to the main room and a
bright light shines through the bottom windows.

"Mulder?"

She continues to search the area. A hissing sound comes from behind
her. "Mulder!"

Suddenly, a number of small alien-shaped organisms run past Scully.
The flashlight swings around wildly, the light catching small parts
of the alien hybrids. Scully drops her flashlight. She picks it up
and starts after them. The light through the windows in front of
Mulder rises up to the higher windows as he stands in awe. It keeps
gaining height until it is directly in front of Mulder. He runs up
the stairs and outside to see a large unidentified flying object
moving over him. The light is intense, almost blinding, but Mulder's
eyes do not move from the spaceship. It disappears over a ridge.

Scully continues down the hallway until she comes to a mining cart
rail. At the end of the tunnel, the bright light from the UFO shines
through. She sees a small hybrid-shaped silhouette standing at the
end of the tunnel. The silhouette grows larger and taller as the
light grows stronger. The silhouette is incredibly defined and looks
human before the light disappears. A number of black fleet sedans
pull up and Mulder spins around to look at them. He quickly runs back
inside as men file out of the cars, cocking shotguns.

Men shout. "Come on, let's go!"

The men run inside as Mulder runs down stairs. They see each other at
the same time and Mulder begins running down the catwalk.

"There!"

Sparks fly off of the metal bars behind Mulder as they fire at him.
The bullets ricochet off as Mulder runs down more stairs and keeps
going. The men stop firing as Mulder is gone from their field of
vision. A few run off in that direction.

"Find the woman too."

Mulder speeds across the catwalk and down more stairs. A man fires at
him and he crouches on the steps to avoid the fire. He then jumps
over the railing and falls to the ground. Grunting, he obtains cover
by hiding behind a box. He makes a break for the door and runs inside
as gunfire rattles off behind him. He slams the door shut and the red
keypad flashes back on. The men run over and one of them enters the
access code. The lights turn green and they fling open the door.
Mulder shines his flashlight down the dark tunnel. His voice echoes.

"Scully!"

"Mulder!"

He follows the sound of her voice. "Scully!"

The hit squad is gaining on him but begins to get lost in the system
of tunnels.

"Mulder, I'm down here!" She shines her flashlight around wildly and
Mulder heads towards it. They meet each other halfway.

"You okay, Scully?"

"I heard gunshots."

"I've been looking for you."

"What happened to you?"

"They got a small army outside. I think they got us trapped."

"I think there's a way out, down here."

They run in the direction Scully was coming from. Running past more
filing cabinets, they find a back door and Mulder slams the door
behind them as they run off.

~*~*~

 Route 320a
Craiger, Maryland

Morning. Skinner pulls up to a local diner and walks in, putting his
keys in his pocket. The room is bright and relatively quiet. He sits
down at a table against the wall where Mulder and Scully are seated.
The two agents have food in front of them.

"This place isn't even on the map. How'd you get here?" Skinner asks.

"You'd be surprised what's not on the map in this country and what
our government will do to keep it that way."

"How's that?"

"Last night, we were chased by some kind of hit squad driving what
looked an awful lot like C.I.A. fleet sedans."

Skinner stays silent for a few seconds. "Well, I may be able to
negotiate a deal that would guarantee your safety."

"What kind of deal?"

"I'll turn over the digital tape in return for your reinstatement..."

"No, sir. I need that tape. I need those files." Mulder shakes his
head as he speaks.

"I'm talking about a way to save your lives," Skinner insists.

"And I'm talking about an elaborate conspiracy against the American
public. Do you know what we found last night?"

"What?"

"An extremely elaborate filing system of medical records," Scully
says.

"Locked inside a mountainside vault," Mulder adds.

"For the purpose of?"

"I don't know. But the answer's got to be on that tape, in those
files."

"Is that answer worth your lives?" Skinner asks.

"It's obviously worth killing us for."

"In your wildest dreams, what do you possibly hope to find, Agent
Mulder?"

"Why they shot my father...and what happened to my sister..."

"I think we should let him make the deal, Mulder." He looks at her in
shock. "Look...those answers mean nothing if we're going to be hunted
down like animals. We are operating so far outside of the law right
now, we've given up on the very notion of justice. We've turned
ourselves into outsiders. We have lost our access and our protection,
probably putting Page in danger in the process."

"What makes you think there's any such thing as justice, Scully?"

"Then what good are those answers to anybody but you, Mulder?"

"What we found last night..."

"Look, I want exactly what you want. But I need to go to our baby. "

They stare at each other for a few seconds until Scully looks away.
Mulder looks at Skinner.

"I suppose you already tried to make a backup of the tape," Mulder
asks Skinner.

"Whoever downloaded those files put a copy protector on them. I
couldn't get a hard copy to print either."

"What makes you think they'll even honor this deal?"

"Because, if they don't...I'll go state's evidence and testify...or
they'll have to kill me too."

Mulder looks back at Scully and stares at her for a second. "It's up
to you, Scully."

He gets up and leaves. A short time later, Scully and Skinner walk
out. Mulder is standing near the doorway and Scully goes to him.
Skinner gets in his car.

"I told Skinner to make the deal. But not to hand over the tape until
you agree to it."

In the end, he has no choice call Skinner and agree to let him make
the deal. It might be worth his life, but not his family's.

~*~*~

Three Hours Later

At the open-air part of the restaurant, the handsome young man sighs,
listening to the smoking man on the other end of the cell phone
verbally tear a new hole in his ass. Most times, he would take it
personally, especially since the old man practically said he messed
up on purpose. Yeah, right. Krycek never makes mistakes on purpose,
but neither will he admit to making a mistake, period. And hasn't he
suffered enough, being abducted by that nutcase Barry and then being
alien-probed? Jeez. So he lets the old man rant and rave, then hangs
up when the other man slams down the phone.

He really should be more worried about his job security, except
there's a woman with lipstick-red hair in a demure but dramatic black
dress. It seems she's intently studying the people around her, as if
she's an actress or a psychologist, or perhaps an author. Every so
often, he watches her mouth turn up in a smile, and it isn't long
before he realizes he wants her to smile like that at him. Since
confidence isn't a problem with him, he approaches her.

"Is this seat taken?" he asks, smiling when she looks up at him.

She smiles back, and he's pleased that, with all the things the
aliens have taken from him, his pretty looks aren't one of those.
"No," she says, waving her red fingernails at him. Then she frowns
slightly. "Do I know you?"

Krycek shakes his head. "I was about to ask you the same thing. I
know, bad pickup line," he says, self-deprecatingly. But there is
something strangely familiar about her, not that he'll let that get
in the way of a good lay.

"No, it's not that, at least, not this time," The red-haired woman
says. "It's like d�j� vu." She pauses, and leans back, the light
catching the crystal on her black choker. "Just so we know for sure,
I'm Melissa," she says, putting out her hand.

Krycek takes it, but rather than shaking it, he kisses it. "Alex," he
says above her hand.

She laughs, but doesn't look displeased by his actions. "Okay, now I
*know* we haven't met before. But you do seem familiar somehow."A
half-smile lingers on her lips as she muses.

He smiles back. "Then we should get to know each other all over
again, Melissa," he says, "are you free today?" Of course, he fully
intends on lying through his pearly whites about everything.

She nods. "You've got a very restless aura, Alex, are you sure you're
free?" she asks, like this is a game to her, nothing serious. Or
maybe she really is into all that New Age junk.

Do I know how to pick 'em or what, he thinks, as he smiles and leans
back. "I've heard I've got some Romany blood," he lies easily. "What
about you?"

She pauses, as if actually measuring his words against his aura, or
something like that. "I come from wanderers, too, although nothing as
glamorous as gypsies," she says, her hands folding over her arms very
like a gypsy herself.

Yes, it's very clear to both that they consider each other a mutual
diversion, something to while away the time pleasantly, nothing more.
Surely, today is a good day to be young and alive, with no thought to
the future or to worldwide conspiracies that involve certain FBI
agents. Too bad a certain Nicaraguan soldier-for-hire is taking
pictures of the would-be harmless chance meeting.

~*~*~

The Following Day

 When Mulder and Scully get home, their jaws drop in shock. The place
looks like it's been hit by a cyclone. There is clothing and paper
strewn everywhere, and even Page's things have been pawed though.

"Oh God..." Scully moans. "They must have broken in looking for that
tape."

Mulder nods, but he's not so sure. Maybe the mess is the result of a
murderous impulse thwarted.

Page is looking around wide-eyed, obviously fascinated by the
wreckage. Mulder wishes he could be fascinated too. Instead he's
merely horrified.

"Scully...I think we better start looking for a new place to live.
Soon."

"It's just a mess, we can clean it up," she insists.

He shakes his head. "Maybe it's a warning."

*

With a still healing gunshot wound and Scully's new and awkward
center of gravity, Mulder doesn't think that they're up to the task
of righting the apartment, so he calls in the Merry Maids and takes
his wife and daughter out to lunch.

Scully, however, obsesses over that decision. "What are they going to
think?" she frets over lunch.

Curbing the impulse to ask her why she cares what complete strangers
think, he shrugs. "That we invited Ted Nugent to stay the weekend?"

"I'm being serious." Scully frowns at him.

"They'll think that we've got a baby, you're pregnant, and I'm hurt-"
He taps on the bandages on his shoulder. "- and that we need some
help with the housework. They deal with messes every day, I don't
think they'll spend much time pondering how ours happened."

"Maybe..."

"C'mon, Scully, do you think your average Merry Maids employee is as
suspicious of people as I am?" he teases.

"Okay, you've got a point."

Mulder is not sure he should be pleased by this victory.

~*~*~

Chapter Twenty-Five
 "Home Sweet Haunted Home"

Second week of May 1995

When Scully gets up one Saturday morning, the house is blissfully
quiet. It worries her a little, since her muzzy mind panics that Page
hasn't woken her up for a feeding, until she remembers that Page is
oh-so-recently weaned, so Mulder can feed her just as well as she
can. The realization of that gives her a pang of regret, but it had
to be done before the new baby arrives.

She finds Mulder and Page in the kitchen. Page is amusing herself by
picking up her rice cereal with her fat little hands and using it to
paint the tray of her high chair. This goes unnoticed by Mulder, who
is intent on something he's reading.

Sighing, she grabs a wash cloth and begins to clean Page's hands,
must to her daughter's squealing protest. "Um, Mulder? What are you
reading? Must be very engrossing for you not to have noticed the mess
here."

He gives her a sheepish grin, and wordlessly offers to finish the
clean up. Once she's busy pouring herself juice, he tells her what's
going on. "My Great-uncle Saul recently died."

"I didn't know you had an Uncle Saul," she remarks, taking a seat at
the table.

"You are going to eat something, aren't you?" he asks pointedly, and
she shoots him a dirty look. "I didn't know I had an Uncle Saul
either. But apparently he knew about me because he remembered me in
his will." He decides not to tell her about having spoken to the man
while caught between life and death.

"Remembered you how well?"

He gets up to make her toast. "Quite well. According to that
paperwork there." He points with his chin. "I've inherited a house,
and some money for its upkeep, a real nice upkeep in fact."

"Really?" She looks interested. "Where's the house?"

"Right here in DC, actually. I'm not familiar with the street,
though. There is, however, a catch."

"Of course."

"If we want the house, we have to live there for five years before
selling it. And if we don't, it'll be sold and the proceeds donated
to charity. Along with the money he left for its upkeep."

Scully nods thoughtfully. "I wonder why he'd think we wouldn't keep
it."

Mulder wonders that too, he's nearly as curious about that as about
where this mystery uncle came from. He must have always had an
unknown great-uncle, but did Bill Mulder not dying prompt the
inclusion in the will? Bill couldn't have been close to his uncle if
he'd never mentioned him, but then Saul seemed to know Bill's
secrets...

"Maybe he's one of those old cynics who think that young people
aren't likely to appreciate their desire to keep a home in the
family, and this clause is to prevent someone from just selling it
for quick cash."

"I don't see why someone would. Unless they already had a house they
liked better. Unlike us." The expression on her face suggests that
she recalls the state of their apartment after that incident the
month before.

"You do want to check it out, then?" he asks, keeping his voice
light.

"You bet your ass."

Mulder widens his eyes in mock horror and makes a show of covering
Page's ears. "Language, Scully!"

"Bite me."

He gives her a leer. "Maybe later."

~*~*~

Two Days Later 

"Are you sure this is it?" Scully asks, peering out the passenger
side window. She'd offered to drive, but he knew that the steering
wheel dug into her these days, so he did the gentlemanly thing and
never asked who was going to drive. Usually, she didn't seem to mind
his presumptuousness.

"That number there." He points to the wrought-iron numerals nailed to
the door. "Match the ones in the paperwork the lawyer gave me. Why,
do you hate it? And where is the lawyer, anyway? He's the one with
the key."

"No, it's not that I don't like it, Mulder, it's just...wow. I never
expected to find a house like this in Washington DC." She looks
around at the other houses on the street. "This is like the
neighborhood time forgot."

Following her glance, Mulder is inclined to agree. The houses on each
side of the street are huge relics of another time. When the old
buildings were torn down all in cities all over the country to make
way for cheap apartments, this street escaped the wrecking ball's
notice.

"I think it's kind of nice," he ventures. "It looks like it could use
some fixing up, but the money Saul left me could make over the house
top to bottom six times, with enough left over for a couple dozen
college educations."

The house does look like it could use some TLC, he admits to himself.
It could use new paint, a new porch, and some landscaping. He only
hopes that it looks no worse on the inside than the out.

Before Scully can reply, another car pulls into the driveway. The
lawyer beats them to the front door because he isn't hindered by
pregnancy, or the need to remove a protesting infant from her car
seat.

Page is still saying her first and favorite out-loud word, "no", when
Scully and Mulder join the lawyer on the porch.

"What a cutie!" The lawyer, one Roger Lavine III, crows and Page
scowls at him over Mulder's arm. "How old is she?"

"She'll be one at the end of September," Mulder tells him.

"That's great. My grandkids are two and four which is fun too, but
you miss the baby stage."

"I don't think that will be a problem," Scully says dryly as Page's
soon-to-be brother or sister gives a fierce kick that makes her
wince.

"This is exciting, isn't it?" The lawyer asks as he pushes the door
open. All the curtains are drawn, so it's hard to see much as they
step into the entryway. The lawyer gropes for a light switch, and
sudden illumination fills the room.

"Wow." Mulder can't believe the size of the house. The living room
they're now standing in is half the size of their entire apartment.

The lawyer consults a folder he's holding. "Ok, the specs here say
four bathrooms, ten bedrooms, two offices, full kitchen- whatever
that means- living room, entry room - I guess this is that- a
playroom and a library. I bet you won't be filling up a house like
this any time soon." He glances at Scully. "Well, probably not,
anyway."

Scully does not look amused.

"Did my great-uncle have a big family?" Mulder wonders aloud. ::And
if he did, why leave this to me instead of one of his kids?::

"Your great-uncle never married or had any children. Apparently your
father spent a fair amount of time with him as a boy, but he didn't
have other family besides your grandparents."

"I wonder why had such a big house, then," Scully remarks.

The lawyer shrugs. "For some people a big house is a symbol of
status, something they felt they must have whether they truly needed
the space or not."

"I guess it doesn't really matter," Mulder murmurs.

Scully and the Lawyer continue to talk about the house's aspects, but
Mulder only half-hears them. Page is waving to...nothing. He thinks
she really sees something, since he's never known his daughter to
display much imagination yet, and she's far too young for an
imaginary friend, yet. But what could she be waving at?

"Mulder?"

"Wha?"

"Mister Lavine asked if we'd like a tour of the house."

"Oh, sure."

The house isn't so bad on the inside either, though all the sheets
covering the furniture remind him uncomfortably of the movie "The
Others," which he can't say anything about given it's 1995 and the
movie doesn't come out until 2001.

Thinking about Page's mysterious waving, he wonders if perhaps the
shrouded objects aren't the only thing that the house has in common
with the movie. He finds the idea sort of exciting, so he's buoyant
as they wander through the house.

"So, Scully, what do you think of the house?" he asks, as they stand
in the middle of a room that the lawyer has just said would be a
great nursery.

~*~*~ 

"I think it's great, when do we moved in?" she says, giving the place
a hungry glance.

"You really like it? You're not just saying that?"

"It's free and it's in DC, what more could we want? At this point I'd
move into a house that had to share bathroom with the neighbors
across the street," she says looking at least half-serious.

Mulder wonders if he should share his theory about the house possibly
being haunted. He decides against it. Page could just the looking at
anything, who knows what goes on in very young minds? He certainly
didn't.

Besides, a few ghosts are a small price to pay to have their own
home. The syndicate would never think of looking for them here. Fox
Mulder, in suburbia? It's to laugh.

"You know Mulder, the lawyers right. This room would make a nice
nursery. New paint, new furniture, and it will be great. You did
mention having money to remodel right?"

Mulder grins at her, knowing her it will still be a few months before
they move into their new home. Although, he's not sure that it's wise
to let pregnant woman be in charge remodeling their home. Hopefully,
she will still like her choices after the baby is born.

The scoops page up off the floor, from where she been playing quietly
while her parents talked. "What do you think, Kiddo? Are you gonna
like your new room?" Page doesn't say anything, instead she grabs his
hair. He takes that has being a affirmative. "Boy, you sure are
easier to please than your Mommy."

Scully just glares at him. ::whoops::

~*~*~

Last week of July 1995

He is right. It takes almost two months of remodeling before Scully
declares the house livable. All of Saul's interesting belongings have
been banished to the attic. He supposes that this is for the best,
but the little boy in him wishes he had time to go through all of it
in see if there any treasures.

Alas, three-fourths of their boxes are still packed when the next big
case springs up to take over their life. Or, his life more
accurately, given that Scully is on maternity leave. Although, taking
care of Page doesn't seem like much of a break. Of course, she's not
really taking much of a break. Every time he comes home with a new
case she wants to know all about it. Hoping to avoid repeat of Page's
birth, he tries to subtly convince her to stay at home as much as
possible, preferably with Maggie around.

This is slightly easier than the tasks assigned to Hercules. 

Fortunately, however, he is able to convince her that they ought to
go with professional movers. Actually, it might have been the way he
framed "shall we get movers, or see if your brother Bill Jr. can help
us move?" either way, she was quick to say movers were a great idea.
At the moment it's mainly their job to stay out from underfoot while
the big burly men tote boxes and furniture.

Still, Scully quickly, and rather ungainly though he would never say
that, rushes upstairs to show the movers where the master bedroom,
Page's bedroom, and the nursery are. Although, Page's room is more or
less a nursery too.

~*~*~

It's a good day for Mulder, which means, for him, he gets to go home
early. Which is weird, because he used to dread going home back when
he was single and childless. But then again, he never used to come
home to Scully. Or Page. Or that house he inherited from his late
great-uncle Saul. Yeah, just thinking about exploring all those rooms
puts a smile on his face. Not to mention the equipment he's hauling,
courtesy of the Lone Gunmen, that's going to help him explore.

Page gurgles as he sweeps her off the floor. "Have you been
overworking your Mommy again?" he asks, mock sternly. His baby girl
merely grins and flails her arms happily. "I'll take that as a yes."

Now that he knows Scully's out for the count, it'll make sneaking in
ghost-hunting equipment easier. He hopes. With Page in his arms, he
has to make twice the trips down and up the stairs. "Okay," he tells
his daughter, "Daddy's gonna track some ghosts. So be very, very
quiet."

She gives him a look like he's nuts, and he grimaces. "You've been
spending way too much time with Mommy. Look," he says, as if
reasoning with Scully, "you and I have both seen some pretty unusual
things around the house lately. Shadows where there shouldn't be,
furniture moved around, figures walking just out of the corner of
your eye - and I *know* you've been talking to some invisible
playpals." He grins at her. "Don't play innocent with me, Page, Daddy
sees all."

She snorts, not unlike her mom, and he sighs. "Fine," he huffs,
"don't believe me. But once we get the thermal imaging cams, motion
detectors, thermometers, and enhanced audio systems set up, this is
gonna be a very cherry setup for ghost detecting. And your daddy's
gonna have proof for your very skeptical Mommy, right?" He bounces
her against his shoulder, her head facing behind him.

She giggles, and he grins. He doesn't see the object of his
technological surveillance standing right behind him.

~*~*~

"Mulder, what are you doing?" A groggy voice interrupts his sleep.

He looks up, sees he's still in Page's room, and glances at his
watch. Two hours he's been asleep, but five since his unofficial
ghost-hunting started. "Scully," he says, sitting up. "I was just..."
He pauses, and finds Page asleep in his arms, "getting her to sleep."

His wife folds her arms over her impressive stomach. "That's what she
has a crib for," she says reasonably. Then she looks around the room.
"What's all this for?" There's no mistaking all the equipment in the
child's room that isn't for educational fun, and Mulder groans
inwardly.

"All what?" Mulder tries for an innocent look, but fails under the
withering glare from the redhead. "Um, security system. Can't be too
careful, you know."

Scully gives him another look. "Mulder," she says in a warning tone.

He sighs. "I was ghost-hunting," he mumbles.

"What?" Both eyebrows have shot up. Is this a good sign or a bad one?

"Ghost-hunting," he says, clearer but still in a low voice, so as not
to wake up Page. Or so he tells himself. "Haven't you noticed
anything unusual about this house?"

"Mul-der!" Scully draws out both syllables in frustration, waking her
daughter. "Dammit."

He raises his hands in protesting his innocence, then returns them to
hold his daughter, patting her on the back. "Hey, she was doing
fine," he says, "this equipment is non-invasive."

Scully tilts her head to the side, her arms still crossed. Ooh,
definitely not a good sign. "Mulder, you have fifteen minutes to drag
this, these things out of this house! Our house is not haunted!"

Just then, the lights flicker and die out. "You were saying?" He
drawls over Page's fresh round of crying.

"Just get to the circuit breaker and turn the lights back on," she
mutters, taking Page from him. "This is probably just a localized
blackout."

"Very localized," Mulder notes as he heads out the room, flashlight
in hand, "We're the only ones on the block without power."

He's pretty sure the flying teddy bear that hit his head was from a
non-supernatural entity, rather than evidence of poltergeist
activity, but he won't argue that point right now.

~*~*~

"See, lights are on, nothing paranormal about it," Scully says once
he returns.

"I didn't do anything," Mulder protests, "The lights came on before I
even got to the circuit breaker."

The corners of her mouth twist up. "So what are you saying, that
ghosts are playing with the lights?"

He shrugs a little. "Well, yeah."

She sighs heavily, shifting her daughter from one shoulder to the
other. "You need to get some sleep. And maybe get a therapist.
Everything is fine, Mulder."

"Fine. Sure," he says, as she walks out of the room with their
sleeping daughter, "mind if I ghost-proof our house?"

Scully stops, turns around, and looks like she's composing herself.
"If you're going to be hanging chicken feet in doorways, you're
sleeping on the couch."

"No, no, nothing like that," Mulder says quickly, thinking, ::Damn,
there goes the gris-gris:: "just making sure nobody gets hurt. For
Page's sake. And yours." He grins hopefully.

She looks at him, then says, in a tone that clearly says she's just
humoring him, "Okay, all right. Do whatever you have to. But if Page
or I get hurt," she threatens, her jaw setting.

He holds his hands up. Is it him, or does she get scarier when she's
pregnant? Maybe he'll ask Skinner if he's noticed. "I get it," he
says, placating her, "really, don't worry. You won't even notice it."
Not that you've noticed the ghosts, silently he argues, but I'll get
incontrovertible proof. And then you can't deny what's right under
your nose. He watches as she waddles out of the room and down the
hall, grinning a little as if he didn't care about the death threat
she's handed him.

Once she closes the door of their bedroom, he exhales. Then he looks
around the empty room. "Okay, I know you're out there," he says to
nothing in particular, squinting like a cowboy in a spaghetti
western, "you're gonna get recorded sooner or later, and when you do,
I'll be there." He sweeps the room again, then sighs, and picks up
one of the thermal cams. "Just make sure you hang around these hidden
cameras, okay?"

~*~*~

"Ah-ha!" Mulder says, dancing around their bedroom.

"Mulder, what is it?" Scully says, wiping the sleep boogers from her
eyes. It was the first time in as many as five hours that her bladder
didn't wake her up, and she's glaring at the interruption.

"Proof, Scully, I got proof!" he says, his large nose very much in
her face. The grin on his face takes up the rest of the space. "Oh,
how they laughed! Oh, how they scoffed! Yes, they mocked! And they
doubted! But I got it, Scully!"

"Mulder," she sits up, more awake and less forgiving, "What the hell
are you
talking about?"

He leans into what's left of his wife's personal space. In a low
voice, he says, "We are not alone."

She gives up being reasonable. "Duh. We've got Page, and another one
on the way."

"No!" He cries, grabbing hold of her shoulders in his enthusiasm.
"We've got ghosts!"

"What?" Scully blinks her large blue eyes at him, not in a ditzy way,
but disbelieving. "I'm sorry, did you say we've got guests?"

He practically bounces on the bed like a kid at Christmas, jolting
her at the same time, since he's still holding her shoulders. "Of the
incorporeal type, yeah. Look!"

Before she can retort, he clicks the VCR remote and the TV displays
the interior of Page's room in a grainy black and fluorescent green.
Scully glares at her husband as she remembers her threat for him to
toss out the silly equipment, and as the words come to her mouth,
something appears onscreen. It's child-sized, but bigger than Page,
and certainly smaller than either Mulder or herself. "Mulder," she
says, "what did I say about the Gunmen pranking us?" Another
child-sized figure joins it, and it looks like they're playing
ring-around-the-rosy.

"Honest, Scully, we were the only ones home," he protests on behalf
of his dubious friends, "besides, I don't think Frohike's the type to
wear a dress, even if it was a prank."

"I don't know about that," she mutters, but her eyes are glued to the
screen as various objects float around the room. "I'm checking for
wires." She shakes off his hands and gets out of bed.

"There aren't any," he says to her back, "And the equipment hasn't
been tampered with."

She gives him a "yeah, right" look over her shoulder before
staggering out the door. In the meantime, Mulder's amusing himself
before Page wakes up by replaying the floating objects section over
and over again.

~*~*~

That evening, dinner is somewhat strained. Scully looks suspiciously
at the food Mulder made before eating it, and even then, doesn't say
anything to her husband. Even Page notices the tension and is
unnaturally quiet. Finally, Mulder sighs. "I'm sorry," he says,
trying to put some contrition into his voice, despite his usual
nature of crowing over things. "I just thought you'd be happy."

Ooh, wrong move. Immediately, the redhead's blue eyes snap with
something dangerously similar to lightning. "What made you think
proving this house was haunted would make me happy?" Scully says, her
voice dangerously even.

"Uh," he says, wondering where all his smooth words went. "Um."

"Exactly," she says, "you didn't think. I was honestly enjoying this
place, Mulder, before it got stuck in one of your X-Files. I liked
the fact that it was roomy," she says, trying to make him understand
with simple words, "I liked that it was pretty much free, that there
was no excessive mortgage, or down payment that would include our
firstborn. I liked the fact that we would be close to work, and have
a nice home without sacrificing for it. I liked having our cake and
eating it. And now you've proven that our cake is full of ghosts,
Mulder!"

"You say that like it's a bad thing," he mumbles.

She sighs. "I just thought having a normal home would be a nice
contrast, but I guess that would be too much to ask for. You want an
Addams Family house as well as aliens at work." Her expression is
worse than angry, it's disappointed, and now he wonders if marrying a
Catholic, even a lapsed Catholic, is a good idea for a lapsed Jew.

"I'm really, really sorry, Scully," he says, meaning it. He walks
over and kneels beside her. "I'll try to get rid of them as soon as I
can."

She looks at him, and something like a smile tugs at her mouth. "We
were doing just fine before you got them on tape," she says, "and
they haven't hurt us or scared Page. I say we leave them alone." He
blinks, and she giggles. "Besides, you could always sell your tape to
that Fox network or something."

He smiles back. "Always knew you were my one in five billion," he
says, relieved.

"I'd say one in five googleplex," she retorts. "Five billion's too
easy."

Page takes that as her cue to start tossing food around. Mulder looks
at his wife. "Well, better Page throwing things around than
poltergeists, right?"

Her smile is indulgent, but her eyes are mischievous. "Either way,
you'll have to deal with the mess."

Ouch, he thinks, going over to coach Page's food into her mouth,
rather than the floor or his face. He's thankful that it's blown over
for now, but he doubts that, in a bona fide haunted house, the ghosts
are willing to live and let live. Or something like that.

~*~*~ 

Chapter Twenty-Six

August 10th, 1995

He doesn't want to get out of bed. Instead, he'd like to spoon with
Scully all day, and skip the case he'd been assigned just now over
the phone. Scully, however, ruins the moment by struggling away from
him. "It's too hot, Mulder. We're too sticky for skin to skin."

Instead of pointing out that he's in boxers and she has a short night
gown on, he throws himself out of bed. Leaning down, he plants a kiss
on her forehead. "Take it easy, huh? It's hot-"

"-and I'm huge." Her right hand flops gently onto her belly.

"-and that saps everyone of energy. If Page wears you out, call Missy
to come take her off your hands."

"I don't even know where Missy is," Scully replies sleepily. "She
said she was going away for a few days."

He resists the urge to roll his eyes. Barely. It's almost as though
Missy knows that she's living on borrowed time, since she's been
living it up since she got back from wherever she'd been on the West
Coast. "Your mom, then."

She nods then says, "I want you to keep me informed about the case."

"Why?"

"Just because I'm home doesn't mean I can't provide some insight."

"Okay, yeah."

"Mulder, I mean it. If you don't, I'll call you every twenty minutes
until you come home."

:: Maybe I wouldn't come home then.:: he thinks petulantly. "All
right!"

"Good," she says, closing her eyes.

Mulder walks down the hall, and stops two doors down. Page is lying
on her back, wide-awake but playing quietly in her crib. "Hey kid,
take it easy on your mom, huh?"

She doesn't say anything, she just grabs his dangling tie instead and
gives it a yank.

"Gak! Guess it serves me right for wearing a noose to work." He
trades her a stuffed bunny for his tie and goes on his grumpy way. He
really hates this case. So much so that a small part of him wishes
that even Krycek or Spender was around so he didn't have to work on
it alone.

~*~*~

Trying to follow orders, Mulder calls the house, but only gets the
answering machine. ::Great, now she'll think I'm "ditching" her. I
can't win.::

His phone rings just after he leaves the crime scene, and it strikes
him as eerie, since it's just about the same time they'd had a face
to face conversation the last time they dealt with the case.
"Mulder."

"Your message said something about a kidnapping?"

"Yeah, 15-year-old girl, Amy Jacobs was taken from her bedroom last
night, 10:00."

"Did they find her?"

"No. They haven't found her yet."

"Then what did they call you in for?" Her voice sounds slightly
annoyed, and he can hear Page chattering to herself in the
background. :: It's not as if I could have stayed home today even if
I didn't have this case.:: he thinks morosely.

"A 30-year-old woman named Lucy Householder was admitted here shortly
after 10:00. She collapsed at work suffering from some kind of
seizure and what her doctors are calling glossolalia."

"Incoherent speech," she instantly replies. The terms apparently
burned into her brain after all those cram sessions in college and
med school.

He hits the elevator button before answering. "Technically, but
whether she knew it or not, she was repeating the exact words spoken
by Amy's abductor the exact same time 20 miles across town."

"Well, that's spooky."

"That's my name, isn't it? Turns out, Lucy Householder knows a little
something about kidnapping herself. When she was eight years old she
was taken from her bedroom while her parents were asleep. She was
missing for five years until she escaped and someone found her by the
side of the road. Apparently, her abductor had kept her locked in a
basement the entire time. They never caught him."

~*~*~

He gets in the elevator and takes it up to the floor Lucy is staying
on. When he enters the room, she's staring out the window.

"Lucy? I'm Fox Mulder. I'd like to ask you a few questions." He hears
a squawk of protest from the cell phone. "My partner is indisposed,
but she'd like me to relay some questions as well, I'm sure."

She barely looks interested. "I'd like a cigarette. They won't let me
smoke in here."

Mulder gives her an apologetic shrug. "A young girl was kidnapped
last night. Have you heard anything about that?"

"What are you asking me for?" Lucy asks defensively.

"Do you remember what you were saying last night when you collapsed
at work?"

"Of course not, I was unconscious. Or just about."

"You were saying "Nobody's going to spoil us." Mulder pauses as
Scully orders him to add onto the question. "Does that mean anything
to you?"

"No."

Scully is half way through another demand when he cuts her off.
"Scully, this isn't working. Why don't you call the phone here in the
room, and I can put you on speaker phone?"

After a couple minutes grumbling, she does, and they wait for her to
call back. Mulder wishes he had a cigarette to give Lucy, since she
seems tense. Scully's question, as soon as she's connected, doesn't
help relax the woman.

"Can you think of any reason why you might have said it?"

"What did I just say?" Lucy glares angrily at the white plastic
phone.

"Those were the exact words spoken by the kidnapper to the little
girl when he took her last night," Mulder explains. "So you can see,
that under the circumstances, it might seem strange that you..."

"So what's your point? All of us kidnap victims gotta stick
together?"

"No. We just want to find the little girl any way we can, and if you
know anything..."

"Look, what I've been through all my life I wouldn't wish on anybody.
It doesn't mean I can make it any better for me or anyone else."

"All right, well thanks for talking to us, Lucy. You can hang up the
phone now."

"Yeah." Her hand reaches for the phone as Mulder starts to leave.
"Hey! When do I get out of here?"

"I'm sure as soon as your doctors feel it's okay for you to go,"
Scully disembodied voice declares.

"No. They say it's up to you," Lucy shoots back grumpily. 

"No, we can't hold you here. You're free to go," Mulder tells her,
and Lucy runs to the bathroom.

He picks up the phone, and tells Scully what just happened. "I guess
she's not too big on confined spaces."

"Yeah. I'll call you later when I know more."

~*~*~

That night, in the spirit of keeping her involved in the case, Mulder
brings home videotape and puts it in their VCR.

"What's the tape of?" Scully asks, dropping Page onto his lap as she
takes a seat on the couch next to him.

"It's not Jurassic Park, and I didn't get it at Blockbuster."

The video cues up suddenly. On the screen there's a woman trying to
get a girl to come to her. The girl is trying to hide in the corner
of the room. "You don't want to talk to me, Lucy? You don't want to
come sit by me?"
 
"Is that Lucy Householder?" Scully asks.

::No, it's some other traumatized kid named Lucy I just happened to
find a video of.:: "Yeah. Taken in 1978, the week she was found.
She'd been held in the dark so long her eyes were hypersensitive to
the light. Whoever held her captive wasn't very big on conversation,
either. She's 13 years old and can barely string two words together.
It's amazing she's gotten anywhere in life."

"Well, by most yardsticks, she hasn't, Mulder."

Mulder mutes the TV "Look, I think I've got a break in the case. A
big one." It feels slightly odd that he's telling her instead of the
other way around, but he decides that changing the past is like that.

"What is it?"

"School pictures were mailed out this week to everyone in Amy's class
except Amy. One of Eubanks's men discovered it."

"Who's the photographer?"

"I'll only tell you if you promise not to go snooping yourself." She
glares at him, so he backpedals. "It's an outfit called Larken
Scholastic. Now, the photographer checked out but his assistant was
fired the day after the shoot - a man named Carl Wade."

"What have you got on him?"

"DMV's, and old address, but he spent the good part of the past
fifteen years institutionalized for a bipolar condition. The only
thing current we have on him is this photo taken by his employer
trying out a new camera."

"Have you shown this picture to Amy's little sister?"

"They're doing it right now, and I'm going to take it and show it to
Lucy."

Scully pats him on the shoulder. "Good job. But do you think you
could get Jurassic Park next time? That movie isn't half bad. I
wonder if they'll ever make another one."

::They will, and it won't be very good.:: "I could go get it now, if
you want."

She swallows a yawn. "Maybe tomorrow. I'm beat."

When she lumbers off, Mulder glares at their daughter. "I said to
take it easy on mom!" Page just stares at him in wide-eyed wonder,
and makes another grab for his tie. ::Gotta stop wearing these
things.::

~*~*~

Just as before, Mulder has to chase Lucy down to get her to look at
the picture of Wade. And also like before, she becomes Agent Eubanks
prime suspect.

Mulder paces as Eubanks prepares to continue his plan of arresting
Lucy for her connection to the kidnapping. "You're going to drive her
away with this."

Agent Eubanks looks grim. "She's been driven away, Agent Mulder. I'm
trying to find her."

"A half a dozen witnesses placed her across town at the time of the
kidnapping."

"I'm well aware of the facts."

"Well, then trust me on this. She's not working with Wade," Mulder
declares.

"How did she get the blood on her?"

"She may have bled it."

The other man gives him an astonished look. "She bled Amy Jacobs'
blood?"

"Yes. It may explain why there was so little of it on the carpet in
Amy's bedroom."

Another agent interrupts to tell Eubanks he has another call. "I
don't have time for this nonsense, Agent Mulder. We've got a young
girl's life at stake."

Mulder takes the time then to call Scully, less out of duty than the
desire to have someone believe him. Alas, that's not to be. "I hate
to say this, Mulder, but I think you just ran out of credibility."

"He's wrong, Scully."

"You are protecting her beyond the point of reason."

"I'm protecting her because I think she's connected to Amy Jacobs,
just not the way everybody else thinks she is."

"Did you consider for one minute that the person she's connected to
is Carl Wade?"

"Carl Wade? Why would she be connected with Carl Wade?"

"For the same twisted reason that abused children crave their
parents' love- " She pauses dramatically, making him think of his
mother. "Or hostages develop sympathy for their captors. I mean,
maybe Lucy developed some kind of emotional dependency. "

"After five years in a dark pit, I'm sure she developed some kind of
connection with Wade, just not the kind that you're suggesting."

"It makes a lot more sense than the notion that she's bleeding Amy
Jacobs' blood."

"As if our cases ever make any sense," he grumbles. "I don't know how
to explain it, but I think that Wade's abduction of Amy triggered
some kind of physical response in Lucy...some kind of empathic
transference. "

"Mulder, you can't be-" She sounds frustrated, and he knows he
getting close to pissing her off. Which isn't something he really
wants to do.

"That's how I account for what Lucy's going through. That's how I
account for the identical words that corresponded to Amy, and the
spontaneous wounds and blood, as well."

"Then why did she run? If she's innocent, what was she running from?"

"Because she's afraid." ::God knows I've done some running myself.::

"You don't see what you're doing, do you, Mulder? You are so close to
this that you just don't see it."

Despite his desire not to upset her, he's getting irritated. "What
don't I see?"

"The extreme rationalization that's going on. Your personal
identification with the victim, or in this case, the suspect. You're
becoming an empath yourself, Mulder. You are so sympathetic to Lucy
as a victim like *your sister* that you can't see her as a person
who's capable of committing this crime."

"You don't think I've thought of that? I have. And not everything I
do, say, think, and feel goes back to my sister. You, of all people
should realize that sometimes motivations for behavior can be more
complex and mysterious than tracing them back to one single childhood
experience."

Agent Eubanks returns at that moment, so Mulder says good-bye and
hangs up on his wife. "Agent Mulder. We've got a man on the way in
who's spotted Wade."

After they question the driver, and pin point a possible location,
Eubanks drives, giving Mulder plenty of time to brood. :: So what if
I worry about Lucy because she reminds me of my sister? Is it so
wrong to want to protect an innocent person? All I want is a happy
outcome for Amy and Lucy both, and I already know that I'm not likely
to get one. I wish I could talk to Elsbeth, or maybe God, and ask why
some people are able to be saved and others can't. Is Lucy too
damaged to want to be saved?::

"We're here," Eubanks announces what seems like seconds later.

~*~*~

It doesn't take Mulder very long to find Lucy, mostly because he
knows where she is. It also doesn't take long for the interrogation
to begin.

Agent Eubanks' is harsh and impatient, which makes Mulder want to
punch him. "Where are they, Lucy? Tell us where Wade took Amy."

"I don't know." Lucy's voice is dead. 

"Anything happens to that girl and you'll be tried as an accomplice.
Were they here when you arrived?"

"No."

"You haven't seen them? You haven't spoken with them?" Eubanks
demands to know.

"I said no." Her voice has a little more life to it.

"Then why are you here?"

"I don't know."

"Just showed up for no reason in particular? That's what you ask us
to believe?"

"I've been here before. A long time ago. That was where he kept me."

"So why are you here now?" Lucy doesn't answer. "Take her outside and
place her in custody."

"No. I'll take her. Come on, Lucy." Mulder takes Lucy's arm and leads
her out and down the front steps. Mulder is about to put her in the
car, but she stops.

"He hasn't touched her. Not yet. He wants to, but he can't. That's
why he takes the pictures."

"What else, Lucy? Tell me what else?"

"If he can't have her all to himself that's when he's dangerous.
That's when he'll start hurting her."

"Lucy, you came here to help her," Mulder suggests.

"No." She shakes her head.

"Why else would you come back here if not for Amy? You're sharing her
pain."

"I can't..."

"You're the survivor. You're the strong one. Now Amy needs some of
your strength." :: Is this what kills her? My suggestion? Should I
take it back?:: Something tells him it doesn't matter, it's what she
was meant to do all along, suggestion or no.

"She's not going to make it." Lucy's voice is soft.

"She has to make it and you have to help her." :: So you don't die
for no reason::

"She's cold. She's cold and, and wet," Lucy declares, shivering and
beginning to cough.

"Lucy, Lucy, sit down. Sit down." He helps her on to the backseat of
the car.

One of the agents, Mulder doesn't remember his name, calls to him.
"Mulder. They found Wade's car north of here."

"They're in the water," Mulder tells the agent. "There's a river near
here. I think that's where they are."

"But the river's east and they found Wade's car a mile north."

"Wade lives here. He knows these woods. He could be doubling back."

"Did she tell you that?" the agent asks.

"No, but I think that's what she's trying to do." He begins running.

 ~*~*~
 
Despite tripping over several branches, Mulder reaches the river.
Wade is holding Amy under the water. Mulder runs along the bank and
aims his gun at wade.

"Wade! Federal Officer! Hold it right there!"

Wade looks up in desperation at Mulder, then back to Amy trying to
make her drown faster. Mulder shoots wade. Wade falls, and Amy floats
to the surface. Mulder runs into the river and carries Amy to the
shore She's not breathing and has no pulse.

His mind goes blank, and he can't remember CPR. So in desperation he
calls Scully. She picks up on the first ring.

"Scully, she's not breathing."

"Who isn't?" she asks, sound properly freaked out.

"Lucy. I mean Amy. I had to shoot Wade, he was trying to drown Amy. I
think he had drown her...and I don't remember how to do CPR," he
babbles in misery.

"It's ok Mulder. You do four heart compressions and then a breath.
Pinch her nose when you do the breath, ok? Do you remember how to
position your hands for the compression? "

Her rational tone calms him. "Yeah, it's coming back to me." He
crouches down beside the girl's still form.

"I'll count for you." Scully's voice is faint, since the cell phone
is on the ground. "One...two...three....four...."

"Come on, Amy, breathe," Mulder begs quietly, before he breathes
again.

It seems like hours pass, but it's only been minutes. Scully
continues to coach him. "One...two...three....Four...Mulder does she
have a pulse yet?"

He's startled that she's broken the rhythm. "No, she doesn't. Yet."

She's quiet for a moment waiting for him to give Amy the next breath.
"Mulder...if she hasn't come around by now, I don't think she's going
to. I'm sorry."

"Damn it, Amy, come on!" he half shouts.

"Mulder, stop. You can't help her. Mulder. It's no use."

"I'm going to keep trying. I think I hear the ambulance coming," he
lies. As far as he knows no one called one. But then he thinks he
does hear something.

He hears someone else breathing. Amy turns her head and coughing up
water.

"I did it Scully, she's breathing."

Eubanks and the other agents seem to materialize out of thin air.
"Have you got her? Is that her?"

"She's alive," Mulder tells them. "I thought I heard an ambulance.
She needs one."

"They're close. We've got them up at Wade's place right now. They're
working on Lucy Householder."

Mulder begins running back to the house. ::Not again.:: 

Mulder slowly walks over to the gurney with Lucy's sheet covered
body. He pulls the sheet back and touches her cheek, then kneels down
beside her and cries. :: I'm so sorry. I wanted to save you this
time. Why wouldn't you let yourself be saved? Why did you come back
here? Maybe we could have found Amy without you. I'm sorry...::

~*~*~

As soon as he walks into the house, Scully throws both arms around
him. "I'm sorry, Mulder. Eubanks called me and told me what happened
after your phone went dead."

"I'm sorry too."

"How's Amy?"

"She's exhausted, but it looks like she's going to be fine. The
doctors want to keep her for a day or two just to be sure."

"Mulder, How serious were her injuries?"

"Wade must have left her alone. There were no injuries. Even though
he must have dragged her through the woods for at least a mile. I
can't explain it. She didn't have a cut on her and nobody wants to
talk about that right now. Everyone's just relieved to have her back
again - to have her safe."

"What about Lucy. I hate to ask, but...Did they determine what killed
her?"

"They found five liters of water in her lungs, in a bone dry car. She
saved Amy's life."

"Mulder...Whatever there was between them, you were part of that
connection. Did you think about that? Lucy may have died for Amy, but
without you, they never would have found her."

"I think she died for more than Amy," he says heavily.

"What do you mean?"

"I think finally, it was...the only way she could escape. The only
way she could forget what happened 17 years ago. Finally, the only
way she could outrun Carl Wade."

She hugs him even tighter, then draws away in surprise. "You've got
something hard in your pocket-_ not that," she adds when he smirks.

"Jurassic Park." He pulls out the tape. "I kind of thought after a
day like today we could both use something mindless to entertain us."
::Because I just don't want to think any more today.::

~*~*~

Chapter Twenty-Seven
"Namesake"

August 13th, 1995
8 p.m.

As it turns out, Mulder doesn't have too much time to agonize over
Lucy Householder's death before a pressing matter of a more personal
nature captures his attention.

"Hey Scully, watch," Mulder calls.

They have both declared it 'too hot to cook' and it's her turn to
keep an eye out for the delivery man.

She turns her head and sees that Mulder has Page up on wobbly legs.
"You better not let her go," she cautions. She's not sure if Page can
support herself yet, although the baby has gotten to the cruising
stage of clinging upright to furniture.

"I won't. But watch, with a little help from dear old dad, our
brilliant baby can walk." He demonstrates, and is too excited to care
that he looks foolish as he hunches over low enough for Page to
dangle from his hands and take a few steps. The look on Page' s
face-one of intense concentration as she holds onto her daddy's
fingers with a death grip-is even more amusing. But Scully doesn't
laugh.

Still looking down at Page, Mulder adds, "I bet it will only be only
be a month or two before we've got a walker. My mom said I'd just
turned one-"

"Uh oh."

"I don't think Page walking is as bad as that." He looks up,
expecting a chuckle, but sees Scully's suddenly pale face instead.
Done playing, he gently lowers Page to the floor before going to
Scully's side. "Are you ok?"

"Remember how when Page was born you said 'Next time let's do this in
the hospital'? We ought to begin thinking about heading there and an
hour or two."

"An hour or two? I don't know if we ought to wait that long. Don't
get me wrong, I don't regret delivering Page, but it's not something
I want to make a habit of."

"Call my mom to come for Page. We definitely have enough time for
that."

 ~*~*~

Maggie arrives fifteen minutes later like a dark-haired whirlwind.

"Just let me get Page's bag." She dashes up the stairs. "It was a
good idea to pack it in advance, Fox." She praises as she reappears
as with the diaper bag, Page's blankie, and her favorite stuffed
bear.

"Um, thanks."

"Come to grandma, Pagie," she says reaching to lift Page out of
Mulder's arms. "You drive carefully! And I expect a call the minute
my new grandchild is born."

"Well, maybe not the minute..." Mulder murmurs.

Maggie Pat him on the back before kissing Scully on the cheek. "I
love you, dear."

"Bye mom!" Scully calls to her disappearing form.

"Can we go now?" Mulder begs shouldering Scully's overnight bag.

"Sure."

They're walking out to the car when another, strange, vehicle pulls
into the driveway.

"What the hell?" Mulder exclaims, thinking of how Krycek rescued them
from the super soldier in another life.

"The take out!" Scully exclaims. Or actually gasps, since another
contraction hits her.

A teenage boy, eighteen if he's a day, rushes up the path towards
them with a large paper bag in hand. "I'm here to deliver the
order..." They begin to walk past him. "Hey, where you going?"

"Hospital," Scully said shortly, clinging to Mulder's arm.

The kid stares at her belly with a blush, and it's plain that he's
embarrassed not to have figured out the problem on his own. "Ok,
um...what about the food?"

"We don't want it." Mulder is impatient to leave.

"I'm gonna get in trouble with my boss!" the kid wails.

Mulder pulls out a ten and a twenty out of his wallet. "Here. Have
dinner on us...but could I have the chicken fingers?"

The kid quickly digs through the bag and hands them over.

"Sorry, Scully but I'm starving."

"Fine, whatever," she says through gritted teeth, and it takes him a
second to realize it's not him that's the cause of the gritting.

"Thanks!" the delivery boy hollers as they drive past them.

~*~*~

Seven Hours Later

"Hi Maggie, it's Fox."

"Is everything ok?" She sounds more worried than when she picked up
Page.

"Everything is great. I think you should tell Page that she is a big
sister, though."

"Oh!! Boy or girl?"

"Boy. Eight pounds, three ounces and 20 inches long. He and Scully
are doing wonderfully," Mulder boasts, then adds, "We haven't decided
on a name yet, before you ask. Hopefully we'll come to a decision
before he has his first visitors."

"That's great. I'll bring Page by later in the morning so we can meet
him. Another grandson..." She trails off fondly.

This gives Mulder a jolt of surprise, since he has almost entirely
forgotten that Charlie has a little boy of his own. Scully barely
mentions Charlie's family, and the only time he can really remember
her mentioning that nephew is when they worked on the case involving
that inbred family but that hasn't happened yet.

"Yeah...do think I'll ever meet your son Charlie?" he wonders aloud.

"Stranger things have happened." Page calls to Maggie demanding
juice, alerting Mulder that his daughter is still up despite the late
hour. "Give Dana and the new baby my love."

"Will do."

 ~*~*~

August 14th, 1995 
4 a.m.

"Index."

"No!"

"Chapter."

"No."

"Verse."

"Verse Mulder. Do you want our son to get beaten up all twelve years
of school?" she asks cuddling their newborn son to her chest. The
tiny boy's reddish hair catches the light.

"Aww, come on, you don't want to keep up the literary theme?" Mulder
pouts playfully as he leans on mattress of hospital bed so he can
gaze at the baby. "You don't like any my suggestions, do you have any
that are better?"

She doesn't say anything for a minute, just looks down at the baby.
"I was thinking about naming him for your sister."

He decides to play off his surprise with a joke. "A little boy named
Samantha? He'll really get beaten up."

"Samuel Mulder. What do you think?" Scully asks.

"I don't know what to say...I sort of thought you'd want to name him
after your father."

She shrugs. "Maybe next time."

It's on the tip of this tongue to tease her about this next time
child, but for once he restraints himself. There's an idea forming at
the back of his mind but he doesn't have time to mull it over yet.

~*~*~

9 a.m.

"Mommy?" a little girl's voice breaks into his thoughts.

He's in the bedroom, poring over a stack of files related to
poltergeist activities to see if there's any evidence of people
getting along with their ghostly co-residents. So far, no luck.
"Page, honey, Mommy's still in the hospital with your little
brother," Mulder explains, picking his daughter up off the
plastic-covered bed.

Rather than reassure her, his daughter's face screws up into a
massive wrinkle, then her mouth opens into a huge wail.
"Mommieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee," she cries, louder than anyone her size
ought to be, her face red and tears rolling down her cheeks.

Mulder's sure he's gone temporarily deaf, then realizes Page is
taking a breath for another huge scream. "Shhhhh, shhhh, it's okay,"
he murmurs repeatedly, hugging her to himself and patting her back,
hoping she can hear him above her cries. It's not working, since Page
is still wailing at the top of her little lungs, and he sighs
inwardly. He regrets not leaving her with her loving and more
experienced grandmother, but wants to do the best he can.

Pulling the screaming girl away from his chest, he tries to bribe
her. "Hey, hey, hey, you hungry?" he asks, wishing his voice didn't
sound so panicky.

She's at the point where she's hiccupping for breath, and it looks
like she's debating whether to scream some more or go along with him.
She opts for scream.

Wondering if it's too late to stick earplugs in, Mulder winces, then
grabs a towel for his shoulder before picking her up. ::Hope you're
coming home soon, Scully,::  he thinks, ::I love our little girl, but
she's as loud and red as a fire engine right now::. He bounces Page
against his supporting arm like he's seen Scully do it against her
hip, and it's calmed her down enough to merely hiccup, even though
her face is still pretty pink.

I guess I'd better get used to this or I'll end up a nervous wreck
whenever I'm left alone with the kids, he muses, heck, I've faced
aliens and mutants, how bad could this be? "Okay," he huffs, walking
into the hallway, "let's see what we've got. And whatever special
drugs Mommy uses to get you to mellow out," he says in a friendly
tone, wiping off her face.

Whatever he said, it was a mistake, and Page starts to cry again.
"Oh, no," Mulder groans, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

His apology is not helping, as she cries even louder. "Scul-lay!"
Mulder joins his daughter's wail with his own.

~*~*~

After he calms down a bit, well, a tiny smidgen, really, Mulder
decides to run through his options. She could be hungry, or need a
diaper change, or scared, or sick, or...how the hell was he supposed
to know? He sighs, still rocking his daughter absentmindedly. Okay,
first thing, diaper check. Might as well get the big horror over
with. A cursory sniff check reveals nothing amiss, and her bottom's
dry, thank goodness. He can't tell if she's scared, as opposed to
angry, but he can check her temperature.

"All right, where does she put that thermometer?" he muses aloud,
walking to the bathroom. Page is still crying loudly, and he wonders
how on earth Scully manages not to be deaf when he comes home.
Quickly, he rummages through the medicine cabinet, looking for
anything that resembles a thermometer. "Ah-ha!" He crows, and sets
off a fresh round of tears from his daughter. "Oh boy, okay, Page,
let's see if you're sick." He's about to stick it in her mouth, when
he remembers that that's usually not where they stick thermometers in
kids. "Sorry, Honey," he says, washing the thermometer off first,
then wiping it off with a tissue. "Daddy's a little new with this
here."

This doesn't reassure her, and she continues to wail, as well as put
up a good deal of flailing as he attempts to take her temperature.
The operative word being "attempts" since she's got some force behind
her chubby limbs. "Page!" he says, exasperated. "A little help here?"

No such luck, so he's forced to take it by force. "Well, you're not
sick," he says with some relief. He wishes she came with a manual, or
maybe some directions tattooed on her back. Worse comes to worst,
he'll call Scully, but right now, this is a challenge he can handle.

"All right, we've ruled out everything else, how about some food?
Yeah, food!" he exclaims, when it seems she's not crying not quite so
much. Or maybe there's a limit on how much tears she can squeeze out.
Yeah, right. Still, a little more optimistic, he heads into the
kitchen and roots for some pureed food. "Aw, yeah, Daddy's got it
under control," he says more brightly than he feels, sitting her in
the high chair, "Daddy's got it going on."

Page looks at him like he's lost his mind. He pretends not to see
that expression, and pulls out a couple of bowls and spoons. "Yep,
it's breakfast time for Page," he continues in the same bright voice,
grabbing some cereal and milk, "and maybe a little breakfast for
Daddy, too. Yeah, I'm hungry, too." Might as well make it a family
affair. "Think you can eat without decorating the place with your
food?"

Her expression is blank, but it seems to his residual paranoia that
it is a deliberate blankness. "Nice try," he says, putting away the
refrigerated stuff, "guess I'll have to take turns feeding us both."
He's about to sit down, when he remembers something. He goes over to
one of the drawers and takes out a bib. "Here you go," he says, tying
it around her neck. As a precautionary measure, he takes one out for
himself. "Maybe I should get some CDC suits for feeding time," he
says, sitting down and digging in for Page's first spoonful.

~*~*~

August 17th, 1995
2:30 a.m.

The nursery. Mulder likes the ring to that, since it makes him think
of Peter Pan and royal children, things that he had really liked
reading about as a young boy. Oh, he'd said he only read the ones
about princes and princesses to Samantha because she liked them, but
deep down he'd like them too. He could relate to having distant
parents like the kings and queens in those stories inevitably were.
Parents like he was determined they will never to be.

At first they'd toyed with the idea of moving Page into her new room
before they brought Sammy home earlier that day -everyone is already
calling him that, so it's probably going to stick- but then they
reconsidered. First, she'd probably be lonely farther from her
parents' room. Second, it'd be a pain in the butt to have to go to
two different rooms in the middle of the night. And lastly, their
biggest concern was that Sammy would wake her up at night, but they
knew from bringing her on several cases that she could sleep through
anything.

So for a while, she and her newborn brother will be sharing the royal
nursery, which is where Mulder is at the moment. It's a big room,
which is good since both of their cribs are in there, although Sammy
is too small for his, according to Scully, so he's in a bassinet. Or
he would be, if Mulder wasn't in the middle of changing his diaper.

After the surprising pee fountain the first time he changed his son
while still at the hospital - Page never did that!- he's learned to
hold the front of the dirty diaper like a shield while attempting to
take it off. He asked Scully if exposure to air made baby boys pee,
but she just shuffled off muttering that he had that equipment
himself, so shouldn't he know? He retorted that she's the one who has
the doctor at the end of her name, not him, and she countered that
she worked with dead people, not babies, and hadn't he forgotten
things from college? He hasn't, but it didn't seem wise to aggravate
her, so he just said yes. So now he wonders if he ought to invest in
a nice pair of goggles like the ones Scully uses during autopsies.

It doesn't take long to put a clean diaper on Sammy, and
surprisingly, he doesn't seem to mind the undressing part. Page
howled like a banshee when she was undressed as a newborn, but Sammy
seems fine with it. Mulder hopes his already apparent differences
will mean he won't get colic too, but it's too soon to tell, since it
can take up to three weeks to show up. As he's lowering Sammy back
into the bassinet, a small voice clearly says "Baby!" behind him.

Turning around with a smile, he sees that Page is standing in her
crib, craning her neck in attempt to see her brother. He scoops her
out and brings her over. "Yes, Mommy and Daddy's baby. Page's baby
brother, Sammy."

"Sammy?" she mimics perfectly, looking a little puzzled as Sammy
waves a fist. Maybe she didn't expect that he'd still be there.

"Yup. Do you like Sammy?" He feels nervous, and doesn't quite know
why. She might not even understand the question. "I hope so, since
we're keeping him. Mom and I love both you and Sammy lots and lots."

"Love!" she squeals, planting a slobbery kiss on his cheek. 

"Thanks, Page," he says dryly, thinking that whoever wrote that
butterfly kisses song about getting sweet kisses from one's child
must not have had baby kisses in mind. He eyed the changing table.
"Are you wet?"

She just smiles. There's no pee fountain, but she does grab the baby
powder from him, making him glad that it's not open, since she's got
quite a grip on it. All he needs is a blizzard of power to clean up
before going to bed. He doesn't mind sharing night duties, since
Scully desperately needs sleep, but he'd rather not have to do any
more clean up than necessary.

When he peers into the bassinet Sammy is already sleeping again, but
Page looks bright eyed, so he pulls out a picture book and settles
into the rocking chair. It's nice having a room big enough for a
rocking chair, unlike when Page was a small as her brother. A lot has
changed in a short time.

"One evening, after thinking it over for some time, Harold decided to
go for a walk in the moonlight. There wasn't any moon, and Harold
needed a moon for a walk in the moonlight."

Page settles against his chest, peering at the pictures that
illustrate Harold's adventure with his purple crayon. A book on child
psychology suggests that babies don't really begin to understand that
drawings represent real objects until they're about fourteen months
old, but Page seems to at eleven months, so maybe she's gifted. Given
how smart he thinks her Mommy is, it wouldn't surprise him.

He knows the story by heart now, so he says the lines without really
thinking about them, allowing his mind to be occupied by other
things. Someday, he would like to see Elsbeth again, to thank her.
This being a dad thing- really being one, not like with poor William,
whom he only got to see for two days- is great. There is nothing in
the world he would trade his kids for, and he knows that Scully feels
the same way.

"And he needed something to walk on. He made a long straight path so
he wouldn't get lost. And he set off on his walk, taking his big
purple crayon with him...."

Mulder wonders about William, though. Does Page and Sammy's existence
cancel out his? :: Well, we could still have him. He wouldn't be a
miracle baby, but we could still have him. And this time we'd keep
him, so he'd be better off. It'd just be a matter of timing his
conception properly.::

"But he didn't seem to be getting anywhere on the long straight path.
So he left the path for a short cut across a field. And the moon went
with him."

Thinking of timing gives him a start. The fledgling idea that he'd
had a couple of nights before, right after he and Scully discussed
names for their son, swims to the forefront of his brain and begins
to take shape. It's what he'd thought when he'd found out that they
were expecting Sammy - being pregnant with Page kept Scully safe from
Duane Barry.

"It turned out to be an apple tree. The apples would be very tasty,
Harold thought, when they got red."

And being pregnant with Sammy had forced her to take fewer risks too,
since she had not only their daughter to think about, but their
unborn child too. :: I know she wants more kids, but would it be
wrong for me to orchestrate when again? Women do that sort of thing
all the time for less noble reasons...or maybe I'm just
rationalizing. Even if I am just rationalizing, there's nothing wrong
with nudging the circumstances of when we add to our family to
convenient ones, instead of random ones.::

"So he put a frightening dragon under the tree to guard the apples.
It was a terribly frightening dragon. It even frightened Harold. He
backed away. His hand holding the purple crayon shook. "

Love and the desire to keep Scully safe at all costs over power his
conscience and strengthen his resolve. :: We wouldn't have inherited
this big house if we weren't meant to fill it. It's fate. If she's
pregnant by October of next year, maybe things will go better with
Gerald Schnaus. He had the same sort of mindset about good and evil
as Duane Barry did. Surely he wouldn't harm a pregnant woman.::

"Suddenly he realized what was happening. But by then Harold was over
his head in an ocean. He came up thinking fast. And in no time he was
climbing aboard a trim little boat. He quickly set sail. And the moon
sailed along with him."

When Mulder feels a wet spot on his shirt, he realizes that Page is
asleep and drooling on him. Letting the book fall onto the chair, he
carries her to the crib and pulls a thin blanket over her. She barely
stirs as she's settled onto the mattress. After he replaces the book
he checks on Sammy one last time before turning off the light.

:: Night guys. If Daddy plays his cards right, there might be another
baby for this nursery in a couple of years. Just don't tell Mommy.::

Excerpts from Harold and The Purple Crayon by Crockett Johnson

~*~*~

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Fourth week of September 1995

In St. Paul, Minnesota, Mulder and Scully find themselves in a quaint
room filled with dolls. Not Barbie dolls, but old-fashioned china
dolls, the type Scully used to get scolded for breaking when she was
a child. As Mulder says something about Satanists and eyeballs,
Scully's own eyes quickly take in the room filled with various law
enforcement personnel. She realizes it won't be long until the media
and other sensationalists will invade this same room, simply because
of the type of victim. She snaps out of her ruminations when
Detective Cline asks, "He's gouging eyes for no reason?"

"No, nobody does anything without a reason. We've already composed a
profile of the killer," she says briskly, handing over a folder. "We
offer possible explanations for the nature of his attacks and also
his choice of victims."

When Mulder decided they'd take the case, she made sure her mom was
free to take care of not only Page, but also little Sammy. Her heart
aches to hold her sweet baby boy to herself, but she knows this is no
place for children. With half an ear, she listens to Mulder put forth
his somewhat reasonable theories to the detectives, putting in her
two cents to make it seem like she's paying attention. Wonder if Mom
ever spaced out like this, Scully muses, then again, she didn't have
to work when she had us. For a second, the redhead envies
stay-at-home moms, then remembers how her kids (kids! Plural!) drive
her nuts over the weekend or between cases, even if she does love
them to pieces.

The dramatic entrance of a quirky newcomer and his entourage shakes
her from her reverie. As the Stupendous Yappi does his dog-and-pony
show, Scully glances over at her husband, who's barely keeping his
mirth in check. She, on the other hand, isn't sure whether to toss
the would-be Karnac on his ear, or laugh her butt off. Then the
melodramatic psychic declares, "It's gone. I lost the vision. Someone
is blocking me. I am picking up negative energy." No shit, Sherlock,
she thinks, hoping he reads minds as well as he stares hard at her,
then at her partner. To her surprise, it's to Mulder he says, "Please
leave this room."

She hopes her mouth isn't twitching as her husband and the psychic go
back and forth, Mulder going even so far as to say he believes in
psychic ability. What *won't* you believe, she snorts inwardly,
although if this Yappi's really psychic, he'd kick me out, not
Mulder. "Wanna get a refund from the Believer's Club?" she asks in a
low voice as he finally capitulates.

Mulder grins. "Bet you ten to one he brings up a white male, with or
without a beard, maybe a tattoo." He waggles his eyebrows like the
Stupendous Yappi. "Or maybe not."

~*~*~

Scully is perplexed. Or confused. Or frustrated. Or maybe all of the
above. She knows it's just the result of going along with one of
Mulder's cockamamie theories, but honestly, she doesn't think this
Clyde Bruckman's psychic. He's been somewhat helpful, but in a vague
way, more like a material witness than say, a paranormal
prognosticator as Mulder thinks he is. Still, she doesn't believe
he's the killer anymore, but neither will she go so far as to agree
with Mulder.

At the Le Dampino Hotel, where they're protecting this supposedly
endangered witness, she helps herself to some of the cake Bruckman
offers her. Screw the post-pregnancy diet, she thinks, I deserve
something sweet for putting up with this insanity. As she pores over
the folders containing background checks, she answers perfunctorily
about what she's doing, to see the interest quickly fading from the
old man's face. Yeah, I'd like to see you go through a marathon of
this, she thinks sourly, better yet, I'd like to see Mulder go
through all this crap.

About an hour later, she gives up, having found nothing useful and
not hearing anything useful from Mulder's end. Finally, she forces
herself to ask, "It's something you haven't explained. Can you see
your own end?"

"I see our end," the old man says, somewhat pleased. "We end up in
bed together." She doesn't bother hiding the look of disbelief,
joined by what-the-hell -am-I-doing-here. "I'm, I'm, I'm sorry. I
shouldn't have said that, I, I, I don't mean to offend you or scare
you, but, uh, not here, not this bed. I, I just mean I, I see us
quite clearly in bed together. You're holding me hand, uh...very
tenderly and then...you're looking at me with such compassion and I
feel...tears are streaming down my face. I feel so grateful. It's
just a...very special moment neither of us will ever forget."

Uh, yeahhhhhhhhhhh, she thinks, in your dreams, Mr. Psychic. Aloud,
she says, "Mister Bruckman...there are hits and there are misses. And
then there are *misses*."

"I just call 'em as I see 'em." He smiles, unashamed.

Rather than rolling her eyes, she merely smiles back. Some men are
incorrigible at any age, she thinks, and is reminded of her husband.

~*~*~

They wind up playing poker and discussing self-fulfilling prophecies
and fate, albeit of fictional characters. Scully refuses to believe
in something as huge and heartless as fate, but neither is she up for
the mental gymnastics required to believe in psychics. Besides,
Bruckman's been on a losing streak, even if she's only a so-so poker
player. Unless Mulder's right and the only psychic ability he has
regards people's death...no, not going there.

"Still, you're not the least bit curious?" he asks.

She's about to answer when there's a knock at the door. Holding a
hand dramatically to her forehead a la the Stupendous Yappi, she
says, "That must be Mulder." Putting down her cards, she stands up to
get the door. As he puts his cards down, she realizes this last game,
he would've won. Fine, then, she thinks. "Okay, how do I die?"

He stares at her for a moment. "You already did," he frowns, seeing
her pale, blue-tinged body washed up against a cold shore, her hair
longer but it's certainly the same woman and it's certainly the past,
not the future. "You don't remember?"

She shakes her head briefly, not understanding, then checks the
peephole before opening the door. Well, here's someone who makes even
Bruckman seem sane. Sometimes. She smiles as he holds up a folder,
with what promises to hold some hard evidence, some real clues to
this case, not some mind-reading silliness.

~*~*~

Mulder is speeding through "The Joys of Parenthood," his
near-photographic memory retaining helpful tips that will hopefully
get him on equal footing with his wife when it comes to dealing with
their kids.

He's already called Maggie earlier while waiting for the lab results
to let her know how things are going. It was nice to hear Page's
half-coherent ramblings and that "Samuel misses his Dad and Mommy,
don't you, Sammy?" Oh my God, it's gonna be Page's birthday soon, he
realizes with a start, and puts the book down. He pulls out his cell,
then remembers that Scully will most likely kill him if he wakes her
up for no good reason. Birthday plans can wait, he thinks.

"Forgot something?" Bruckman asks, amused.

Mulder smiles. "Yeah, that my wife would kill me if I woke her up."
Note to self, now that we've got kids, don't *ever* call Scully in
the middle of the night without good reason, like an alien invasion
or something. How she put up with me all those years doing that to
her is a mystery. "Speaking of which," he asks, curious, "how do I
die? I'm hoping it's not autoerotic asphyxiation, like you mentioned
earlier."

Bruckman laughs, almost barking. "I hope not, for your wife's sake."
He's about to add more, when his eyes have that familiar half-glaze.
"My God," he murmurs, "oh my God."

"What?" Mulder asks, concerned. Please, please let me be alive to
take care of Scully, Page, and Sammy. It's weird, but he doesn't
remember being this worried about his mortality back when he first
rose from the dead.

The trance is broken, and the old man stares at the younger man.
"What are you, Wile E. Coyote? You've got more lives than a cat. I'd
hate to sell you insurance, that's for sure."

Mulder laughs, but it's uneasy. What exactly did Bruckman see? His
other life, as well as this one?

~*~*~

The next night, they're back at home, snuggled on the couch, joined
by a new pet. Mulder's eyes are facing the TV, but they're not
watching. He's still depressed Bruckman chose to end his own life,
rather than taking advantage of having escaped a serial killer to
live a fuller life. As the credits for the somewhat macabre Laurel
and Hardy show roll, Scully looks up at her husband. "So, did he tell
you when you were going to die?" she asks.

He blinks, and the small dog barks, startling him a little.
Half-grinning, he says, " He said I'm Wile E. Coyote." A little
worried, he asks, "What about you?"

She frowns a little, making his heart race. "I'm not sure. He said I
already died. Maybe he mixed us up."

"So that would make you Wile E. Coyote," Mulder nods, "I see. Do I
get to be Bugs Bunny, then?"

"Daffy Duck," she counters. "I don't think you're cool enough to be
Bugs Bunny."

He pouts, mock-hurt. "Not cool enough? I'm so cool we don't need air
conditioning. I'm so cool milk turns into ice cream in my hands. I'm
so cool." He leans close, dislodging the small dog, "I've got a hot
FBI doctor to marry me." He starts to nuzzle her, half-hoping she'll
take him up on his offer.

She giggles, but pushes him away gently, her voice regretful.
"Mulder. We can't stay up too late, Page's birthday party is
tomorrow, remember?"

He sighs dramatically. "I know." A familiar face on the TV screen
catches his attention. "Oh, brother."

Scully turns to see the Stupendous Yappi and his excitable eyebrows.
Just to tease him, she says, "Now *there's* Bugs Bunny."

The TV remote flies across the room, knocking the power off.

~*~*~

September 21st, 1995

"Happy birthday to you..."

Page looks rather puzzled as Maggie brings out a birthday cake and
places it just out of reach. The single candle, shaped like the
number one, burns merrily.

"Time to blow out the candle, Page," Mulder tells her, holding her in
front of the cake. "Daddy will help you."

She sort of gets the idea of blowing, but it's really Mulder who puts
it out. Everyone claps anyway, and tells her that she did a good job.
She smiles, showing her sharp little front teeth.

Mulder glances over at Scully, who is doing a decent job of clapping
without dumping Sammy on the floor. Mulder finds it hard to believe
an entire year has passed since Page's unusual entrance into the
world; and harder to believe she's already the big sister of a
five-week-old baby.

"Cake! Cake!" Page crows, reaching out for it. Luckily it's still
just out of reach.

Maggie quickly cuts a piece of the cake, and gives it to the birthday
girl, who enthusiastically puts a fistful of it into her mouth.

"Little disturbing that that the word cake is part of her
vocabulary," Mulder comments to Scully.

"At least it's not sunflower seeds. Those are a choking hazard."

Noticing that Scully looks tired, Mulder takes their son from her,
for once remembering to drape a burping cloth over his shoulder
first. "Hard to believe we've been doing this parenting thing an
entire year, huh?"

She gives him a nonplused look. "Sometimes it seems like just
yesterday that we brought her home, but other times it feels like
she's always been part of our lives."

"I think we're getting good at this," Mulder confides, watching Page
lick frosting off her fingers. "If I'd have known parenting was like
this, I would have had kids sooner."

"With who, Phoebe Green?" Scully asks archly.

"Nah. I don't think that I could deal with living with any woman but
you, so I would have had to get one of those surrogates."

"Thanks. I think."

"You ever think of having more? Kids, I mean, not surrogates."

"Sure, but this time...let's wait a lot longer than seven weeks to
conceive the next kid," she tells him with a grin.

"Oh, of course." ::Let's wait until next year.::

Scully jumps up when Sammy cries and takes him from Mulder, leaving
him to watch Page smear cake all over herself. A tap on his shoulder
startles him. "Fox? I don't think wax is good for dogs." Missy's
voice is grave, but her eyes sparkle merrily.

Looking past her, he sees that that Queequeg has somehow gotten a
hold of the birthday candle, and is holding it between both paws as
he gnaws on it. Instead of being traumatized that her candle is being
eaten, Page giggles.

::How the hell did he get that?! Damn Pomeranian...why couldn't
Scully have been left a real dog?:: "Bad dog! Stop chewing on that,
you miserable rat!"

"Don't let my sister hear you call him that," Missy cautions. "Dana
seems quite taken with him."

"I wish something would take him," he says sourly, as he bends to
scoop up the slobbered on crumbles of wax. :: Well, there is that Big
Blue case...:: "Maybe I could offer him to a fisherman for bait."

Missy cuffs him lightly on the shoulder. "That'd go over big."

"Yeah, you're right. So tell me, World Traveler, have you meet anyone
interesting on your wanders?" :: And am I ever glad you've gotten to
take them.::

"Oh, I don't know..." She looks away, and he realizes that means yes.
He's certain of it when she changes the subject. "Before I forget, I
have something for the kids." Digging through her pocket, she pulls
out two flat slivers of polished stone. "This is rose quartz. If you
keep it under a pillow, or a crib mattress in a baby's case, it keep
you from having bad dreams."

::What, no dream catchers?::

"Thanks."

"Dana had bad dreams a lot when she was young. "

"Really?" Mulder fingers the quartz, and finds that it has no sharp
edges, and that it's too big to be swallowed, so he decides to honor
the auntie's wishes. "I'll put these under their mattresses and be
right back."

When he goes into the nursery Scully doesn't even ask why he's
putting quartz under the crib mattresses. She must know all about her
sister's quirky beliefs in the power of inanimate objects.

"Bumpa! Bumpa!" As he walks down the stairs he hears Page's voice.
His father must be here, since that's what she insists on calling
him. Bill Mulder has Page in his arms and is talking to Missy about
something he can't hear. It's a little strange seeing them both here,
but strange in a good way. ::This party was a good idea.::

~*~*~

Late October 1995

After being forewarned, or perhaps forearmed by Mulder's theory about
a Russian sub being a UFO, she's prepared to deal with his flights of
fancy, and, having sent the kids off with a babysitter, she's also
prepared to deal with whatever is thrown at them on this case without
worrying about her little ones' health. Bad enough she's walking into
the burn section of the San Diego Naval Hospital with her husband,
but the fact that they're checking into the cause of those radiation
burns makes her super-glad the kids aren't along for the ride.

As Mulder makes their introductions, a knot builds in her stomach as
she looks around the room. "It's been difficult to determine a proper
course of treatment, because there's an air of secrecy around what
happened. he source of their exposure is still undetermined," Doctor
Seizer says, catching her attention.

"These symptoms, would you characterize then as acute or somatic?"
she asks. Judging by the confused look on his face, she clarifies,
"I'm a medical doctor." Geez, like they think FBI agents have no
brains, she sighs inwardly.

Recovering quickly, the doctor says, "They're somatic, although I
don't think we've seen the worst of it. The effects are degrading
rapidly, spontaneous internal bleeding in the mouths and intestinal
tracts, blood in the urine. All these men are suffering severe
delirium, the pre-advanced stages of coma."

Oh, hell, she thinks. We're definitely not going to be getting
anything useful from these men save for radiation evidence. "What
kind of exposure are we talking about here?"

"200, maybe 400 Roentgens, with a high rate of absorption."

The conversation is going over Mulder's head, she can tell, but the
knot in her stomach's gotten that much bigger. Again, she's very glad
the kids are at home and not here. "That's verging on the levels
suffered by the Hiroshima victims," she says to clarify for her
husband.

"Whatever these men came in contact with, it was man-made, levels
like this just don't appear in nature," Doctor Seizer says grimly.

"Not on this planet," Mulder adds, sotto voce.

Restraining her urge to sock him, she asks, "Did you get a chance to
talk to any of them?" Considering the sailors' condition, it's a slim
hope, but the hope is there.

"No, they were in pretty bad shape by the time they got to me, except
for one man, and this was strange because he's the only one who seems
to be completely unaffected. I held him for the first day, but I
detected none of the symptoms of the others. His leukocytes and
erythocytes were high. Actually, he was in very good health."

As Scully's eyebrows go up, Mulder asks, "How could that be? With
that level of radiation, how could one man not be exposed?"
Unfortunately, he knows the answer to that question, but he's not
about to share with the rest of the class.

The doctor shakes his head. "Doesn't make any sense, but it's lucky
for these men because he was the one who piloted the boat in. And
none of these men could've done that in their condition."

Yeah, lucky, Mulder thinks, for a certain body-jumping oilien, not
these poor guys in the beds. "Could we talk with this man?" he asks,
already itching to track down Mr. Black Slime.

"You could if he was still here, but he discharged himself this
morning." Scully looks up at him, surprised. "He's a Frenchman, has a
San Francisco address, his name is Gauthier."

Party time, Mulder thinks grimly, let's hope we get it before it gets
to Krycek this time around.

~*~*~

On board the Piper Maru, after the radiation crew has left, Mulder
walks over with a flashlight and checks out the diver's suit covered
in oil. He refrains from running a finger over it as Scully looks at
a charted map with "Zeus Faber" written in magic marker on the
bottom. As the lights flicker on, Wayne Morgan with the Naval
investigative unit calls out, "Generator's back, is that better?"

"Yeah, thanks," she answers as Morgan joins her in the room. Damn,
looks like Mulder's old apartment. "Is this the way you found the
room?"

"Nothing's been touched, not since you've been tied up here anyway."
He turns to see Mulder entering the room. "It's a mess, huh?"

"Feels like home," Mulder answers, to meet Scully's withering glare.
"Well, not *our* home," he amends quickly, "more like somebody
looking for something." He pauses, his eyes searching, then says,
"Ah-ha," and switches on the VCR monitor before hitting play.

Scully looks at him, then up at the screen. "What the hell is that?"
Morgan says next to her.

"Looks like the fuselage of a plane," Mulder remarks, just waiting
for Scully to surprise the Navy man.

And she doesn't disappoint. "It's a North American P-51 Mustang," she
says, as sure of her answer as if it were a medical diagnosis.

Morgan blinks, then grudgingly acknowledges, "Yeah, it is."

Mulder leans closer to her and leers, "I just got very turned on."

She nudges him with her elbow, wanting to slap his head, "It's the
shape of the canopy. I used to watch my father and brothers put
together World War II model planes as a kid." and, like an adult,
refrains from sticking her tongue out at both men.

"Would it have been carrying anything radioactive?" Mulder asks, as
he pauses the tape on the call numbers JTT0-11470.

She frowns. "No, it was just a fighter."

"Then what was it those men were exposed to?"

Relieved that his mind's back on business and out of his pants,
Scully answers, "I don't know, but I know someone I can ask."

~*~*~

Later, while he's sitting at the airport, Mulder answers his cell.
"Mulder."

"Mulder, it's me," Scully says, "where are you?"

"San Francisco airport, where are you?" he counters, keeping an eye
on Jeraldine "With a J" Kallenchuk.

"Miramar Airbase. I think I've just found out what those men were
exposed to, what the Piper Maru was out there looking for." Her voice
trembles slightly with excitement.

::Hoo boy. Wonder if I should tell her to keep an eye on Skinner.::
"What?"

"That P-51 Mustang was part of an escort for a B-20 carrying an
atomic bomb, just like the one we dropped on Hiroshima. Only this one
never reached its target."

That's what you think, Mulder's about to retort, but says instead,
"Says who?"

"Says one of the men originally sent to find it, on a submarine
called the Zeus Faber," she replies triumphantly. "It all makes sense
Mulder, why would they build a nuclear weapon when they can salvage
one?"

You think all the pieces fit, but they just keep making more puzzles,
Mulder sighs inwardly. "Why if they knew about it, why wait fifty
years to try to recover it? And why was the only person not exposed,
the diver, sent down to find it?"

She sighs aloud. "I don't know."

"Why don't you try to find out," Mulder suggests as the clock ticks
down to boarding time.

"What about you?" Scully frowns.

"I gotta go to Hong Kong," he says, standing up, still keeping an eye
on Kallenchuk.

"Hong Kong?" Scully blinks. What the hell?

"Not to turn this into a long-distance relationship, but, uh, I'll
call you back okay?" he says before shutting off his cell. He hands
his ticket over, and a thought occurs to him. I hope the kids are
okay, he thinks, then smothers the worry as a new worry, Joan
Gauthier, appears in the overhead mirror. Oh boy.

~*~*~

Scully yawns as she unlocks the door. Home, sweet home, she thinks,
opening the door. The babysitter, a no-nonsense Hawaiian woman with a
soft heart, smiles widely. "Sammy sleeps like an angel," she says,
standing with the aid of a metal cane, "And Page finally went to
sleep after running all over the house."

"Thanks, Mrs. K.," she says, then pauses. "Running?" Scully blinks.

Mrs. Kahaiali`i nods. "Yeah, she said her friends were playing with
her. Keiki have such great imagination, yeah?"

"Uh, yeah," Scully plasters a smile on her face. Pulling out her
purse, she counts out the bills. "I'm glad they weren't too much of a
hassle."

"Oh, no," Mrs. K. replies, "you might if I wait little while? My
husband's going to pick me up, but he's still at work."

Scully nods, and is in the process of joining Mrs. K. on the couch in
front of the TV when her cell rings. "Scully," she answers,
recognizing the numbers as somewhere in the FBI office. Oh, no.

"Agent Scully, this is Kim Cook from the director's office," a
woman's voice says on the other end.

"Yes?" The redhead answers, thinking, I just got home! Please don't
tell me Mulder got arrested in Hong Kong!

"We've just got some bad news, A.D. Skinner has just been shot."
Mulder's okay, but Skinner's not. Dammit.

"When?" Scully says, shrugging her coat back on, to Mrs. K.'s
curiosity.

"About an hour ago, he's been taken to Northeast Georgetown."

"I'll be right there," she says, hanging up. Then she looks at the
heavyset Hawaiian woman. "I'm so sorry, would you mind staying maybe
another hour or so?"

Thankfully, the babysitter is accommodating. "Sammy needs to be fed
in a couple hours, yeah?" Mrs. K. asks. Scully nods. "Don't worry.
Page should still be sleeping when you come back."

Relieved, Scully squeezes the woman's hand. "You'll definitely be
getting overtime for this."

"You should, too," Mrs. Kahaiali`i answers as the smaller woman flies
out the door.

~*~*~

At the Hong Kong airport, Mulder punches Krycek in the face. It's no
less satisfying than the first time around. "That's for your
partner," he snarls, then kicks the double-crosser in the crotch,
"that's for me," and pulls Krycek's gun on him. "And this is for my
father."

"I swear I didn't do it," Krycek gasps. "Besides, he's still alive."

"No thanks to you," Mulder glares, forcing himself not to pull the
trigger. "I want that digital tape, you rat bastard."

Krycek's eyes look around wildly. There's no one he can turn to, and
Mulder's holding the gun close enough to his stomach to make it
almost invisible under his jacket. "I, I don't have it," he lies
easily.

Mulder's not buying it. "Like hell you don't, it contains the secrets
you were selling as well as everything else our government knows
about the existence of extraterrestrial life."

Krycek hisses, "Like I could sell anything? The tape's encrypted."

"Obviously you found a way," Mulder says between his teeth.

"I'll give it to you if you let me go," the younger man bargains.

Yeah, right, Mulder thinks. "Where is it?"

"DC, in a locker." He takes out a key, then puts it back in his
pocket. "If you let me go, I'll tell you."

::Maybe I should just kill him here and now,:: the FBI agent reasons,
::nobody will know. I could just take the key, leave the bastard here
for CSM or some other syndicate flunky to find, and get the tape.::
Then he reconsiders. ::Dammit. Fine.::

"You put that tape in my hands and we'll talk about it. Why don't you
go to the bathrooms and clean yourself off?" He follows Krycek in the
bathroom, ignoring the other man's kissy face, and keeps guard over
the rat while waiting for Joan Gauthier.

Bingo, he thinks, as the woman walks inside. And, to his shock,
instead of reaching out to Krycek, she reaches for him. "No!" He
cries out as the black oil invades his body and his mind.

~*~*~ 

Chapter Twenty-Nine

As Mulder reels back, the body of Joan Gauthier slumps to the tile
floor of the bathroom, covered in the same glistening black oil her
husband was earlier. Possessed, Mulder doesn't really give a damn
right now, and pulls Krycek to him. "Give me the key."

Krycek's about to bluff him, when he sees something like black
cataracts swim across Mulder's eyes, and his mouth drops open. His
hand fumbles for the key, which he hands over without protest.

The possessed man looks blankly at the yellow key marked "C.I.
517.""Let's go," he says, handcuffing Krycek. He doesn't answer the
other man when he dares to yelp, "What do you want with me," and
hauls him over to the gate.

~*~*~

Scully hates when things go like the movies, but she's got a bad
feeling about this. She hasn't heard from Mulder, and when she dials
out for the fifth time, she gets the voice mail recording right off
the bat. And even having guards posted at Skinner's door doesn't make
her feel quite safe, so she goes home to make sure her kids are all
right. Having paid Mrs. K. an exorbitant amount, she stays up feeding
Sammy, then goes over the paperwork on Skinner. "Where are you," she
asks no one in particular, and wonders where her husband is.

She's dialing the Hong Kong embassy, when her cell phone rings.
Picking it up quickly, she answers, " Scully." It's from the FBI
building, but she hopes it's good news this time. Maybe even
something about her errant husband.

"Agent Scully, this is Agent Pendrell," the man on the other end
says. "I knew you wanted the results on the shooter ASAP."

"What is it?" she asks, fighting her frustration. She knows she needs
her sleep, but is fighting the urge.

"The partial prints we pulled out of the cash register didn't add up
to anything. We found saliva on Skinner's shirt that wasn't his. The
analysis of the secretors and other hemofactors says that we're
looking for a male, probably in his 40s with blood type B positive."

"Short of cutting open every other forty-ish male, is there anything
else?" Scully asks archly. "Sorry," she adds belatedly, "between this
case and my baby boy, I haven't been able to get much sleep."

"Uh, well," Pendrell says in a more subdued tone, "We were able to
chromosome-stain some of the hair fibers we picked up last night. We
can still run those indicators against all the suspects arrested in
the DC area in the last couple of years."

"Thank you, Agent Pendrell," she says sincerely, then a thought
occurs to her. "Narrow that search to suspects within this past year,
specifically in regards to suspects on the X-Files. "It's a leap, but
Mulder isn't the only one to trust hunches.

"Oh, okay." She can almost hear the other redhead blink. "You got
it."

"Thanks again," Scully says before hanging up. A monster yawn escapes
her mouth, and she debates whether more coffee or simply sleep would
do the trick. A few moments later, the debate is rendered moot as she
passes out at the desk.

~*~*~

Around the same time, on Country Road 512, the passenger in the
rental car is growing increasingly agitated. "Um, in case you haven't
noticed with that weird black goo in your eyes, we're being
followed," Krycek says, his green eyes dark with worry about both the
driver and the dark sedan behind them.

"I know," is all Mulder says, and the dull monotone does nothing to
reassure Krycek. He speeds up, but the rental, being a crappy old
American model, doesn't have enough power to escape being hit by the
sedan. His face shows no emotion as the car careens off the road, and
Krycek futilely puts his handcuffed hands up to shield himself. When
the car comes to a stop, two men exit the dark sedan, obviously
armed. Mulder looks up with no expression as one of the men tells
him, "Get out." Mulder does so, leaving behind the double-agent
bleeding from a concussion in the passenger seat.

"Where's the digital tape?" the first man in black asks as the second
man pins his arms behind him.

"I don't have it," Mulder says simply, and is punched for his answer.
He doesn't seem to feel it, though, and a bright flash of light
emanates from his body, incinerating both men. Kicking the horribly
burned corpse of the man who'd held him, Mulder steps over the man
who punched him, and walks over to the car. He opens the passenger
door and lifts Krycek's head.

"Oh," Krycek groans, feeling a pounding headache bring him to the
point of nausea, and his eyes widen when they see the other man's
face. "Oh, no."

Mulder puts his other hand around Krycek's neck, squeezing as the
black oil glazes his eyes. When he passes out, his body covered in
black slime, Krycek steps over him and walks over to the dark sedan.

~*~*~

November 1st, 1995

"Oh, ow," Mulder groans as consciousness hits like a ton of bricks,
only less soft. "I feel like hell." He slowly opens his eyes and sees
Scully's red hair, which is almost too much. "What happened?" She's
okay and doesn't look too pissed off, which means the body-jumping
oilien didn't make him kill his family. He hopes.

"The State police found you unconscious," she says in a low voice, as
if aware of how much like a hangover he feels like. "You were covered
in the same goo that Gauthier was found in and lying near a rental
car that had been run off the road."

"What about Krycek?" he asks.

"Krycek was there?" she asks, her brow furrowing.

"He was in Hong Kong, selling information off the digital tape he's
got," he says, and coughs. After sipping the water Scully gives him,
he asks, "So I'm in the U.S.? I don't remember anything after
handcuffing him."

She blinks, and decides not to pry. "Actually, you're not the only
one in the hospital," she says, relieved that her husband's home,
even if he was found covered in that nasty oil-type thing. "Skinner's
been shot."

"What happened?" he asks, but the memory comes back, even as she
answers.

"A bullet perforated his small intestine. The doctor seems to think
he'll be fine." She seems to share the doctor's opinion, so he feels
somewhat better.

"Who shot him?"

A smart aleck remark comes to mind, but she holds it back as she
opens the folder. She really didn't have as much sleep as she wanted
or needed. "PCR results, says this one belongs to the man who shot
Skinner," she says, handing the folder over to him.

"And this one is?" he asks, holding up the other sheet.

"The one who stole the digital tape in the first place," she says,
"The same man who pushed Skinner down a stairwell for it."

"Boy, Skinner really knows how to piss people off," Mulder remarks,
getting out of bed. "What?"

"Mulder, you should really stay in bed," Scully admonishes him.

"Are you gonna make me?" he asks hopefully, pulling her to him.
"Otherwise, we've got a digital tape to find, Skinner's shooter to
hunt down, Krycek's ass to track, and the radiation source of the
Piper Maru's crew to discover."

She sighs, then kisses him. "When you put it that way," she says,
handing him his clothes before walking out, "you'd better get
dressed."

He grins lopsided at her. "I think this is the first time I wish
you'd won." He watches her shake her head, then waltz out the door.
He sighs, then pulls off his hospital gown in exchange for a
button-down shirt.

~*~*~

Byers is strapping Page onto his chest, doubting her unsteady legs
would be ready for skating just yet. He wishes Mulder had picked
Frohike or Langly, but when the FBI agent said, "Would you imagine
either of those guys with small children? I didn't think so," he'd
reluctantly acquiesced.

So, being the dutiful de facto uncle, he puts a lesser-loved necktie
into her hands and says brightly, "Ready?" When she nods which might
be an answer or just a coincidence, he steps onto the ice, his eyes
scanning the rink at Capitol Ice. Bending his knees slightly to
balance the extra weight, he passes a number of people, but nobody
that stands out as much as himself, or so he thinks.

Then Langly takes a spin on the ice and changes the
conservatively-dressed man's opinion. For one thing, he's skating in
the opposite direction, and for another, he hasn't bothered to brush
his long blond hair, opting to tuck it awkwardly under a ski cap.
Byers' mouth purses, but says nothing to the D&D master of their
group. Langly grins widely and continues to swoop through the
circling skaters, nearly knocking over a would-be figure skater in
the process.

As Byers gets off the ice, he watches Langly flail a little and
sighs, then sees their other compatriot step onto the ice. Frohike
pretends he doesn't see the blond man nearly bowl over a small group
of kids and gets off the ice, waddling over to the lockers in his
skates. He opens the locker marked "517" with the yellow key,
retrieving a brown packet. "Bingo," he says, shoving it into his
black leather vest, and all three Lone Gunmen hustle over to Mulder's
car.

"Look, Sammy, the Three Stooges," Mulder says before they get into
his car.

Sammy gurgles happily at the three men, who mistake his enthusiasm.
"Hey, kid." Frohike grins at the little boy before handing over the
packet. "No sweat."

"We show a talent for G-man activities," Langly brags as Byers
struggles to detach Page from himself. "Hey, man, need some help?"
Byers nods helplessly as Langly soon finds his long hair the object
of Page's affection. "Ow, ow, ow! Mulder, tell your kid to leggo!"

"Leggo," Mulder deadpans, opening the packet. Damn. Empty again.
Sighing, he hands Sammy over to Frohike, who he slightly resembles in
the bald man department. Twisting in his seat, Mulder decides to try
something he can actually do something about, like freeing two out of
three Lone Gunmen from his daughter's clutches. "Wow, Page, you've
got them wrapped around your finger." He grins.

"That's my hair," Langly grumbles, while Byers sighs with relief at
being released.

~*~*~

Meanwhile, back at the FBI, Scully's looking at a slideshow. Nothing
like Mulder's, she thinks, but is relieved not to be facing a mutant
sewer monster or teens with suspicious mosquito bites on their backs.
Agent Fuller states, "His name is Luis Cardinal, native of Nicaragua,
school of the America's alumni, career mercenary, apparently
impressed a lot of people with his marksmanship during the Iran
contra deal." He pauses while his partner takes up the slack.

"That's actually the good news," Agent Caleca says, her brown eyes
practically black." The bad news is that he entered the country
without a visa or papers. As far as we can tell we can't find
anything on him, address, phone number, financials, nothing. And none
of his aliases have been tagged as either entering or exiting the
country. In all likelihood, he's probably long gone."

Scully sighs. They had Krycek, who'd managed to escape, and now
evidence and the identity of Skinner's shooter, who's probably also
skipped out of town. Dammit. Why can't criminals stay in one place?
Guess that's why they put the "I" in FBI, the sardonic voice in her
head tells her. Shut up, Mulder, she retorts inwardly. "Keep
looking," she says tersely.

Fuller is taken aback. "We, we've pretty much exhausted all our
avenues," he says.

Scully looks at him. "He shot an *Assistant Director* of the FBI,"
she says, wondering where the loyalty went. "What's it gonna take?" A
cap in your ass?, she adds mentally. Caleca blinks. "At this point?
Other than a sign from God?" she asks.

The redhead raises an eyebrow. "I've seen stranger things, believe
me," she says, hustling out of the room, hoping for better news from
her partner.

~*~*~

Meanwhile, Mulder, having called and met the Well-Manicured Man in
Central Park and plays out the fact that both are looking for Krycek,
sighs. It's a nice place in the day time, but he wishes he didn't
have to repeat certain things for the sake of appearance. Besides,
now that the body-jumping alien has landed in Krycek again, he's
fairly certain the thing's headed to North Dakota. If some things
haven't changed, that would be it, he thinks.

Then he remembers something else and pulls out his cell phone.
"Scully, it's me," he says urgently, checking his watch. "The two
guards you had posted in front of Skinner's room, are they still
there?"

"They should be, why?" she asks, and he can almost see her frown.

"I, I want you to double-check for me, okay?" he asks.

"Okay," she says, and he hangs up with a sigh.

Okay, saved Skinner's ass for the time being. Now, to save his own.
"Guys?" he asks, hearing the hiss of the reel-to-reel tape recording
the conversation. He doesn't care. "How's the kids?"

"Oh, just peachy," Frohike says sourly over what sounds like a ruckus
in the background. "Why don't they come with volume control?"

"Echolocation," Mulder repeats what his wife told him.

"Mulder says it's echolocation," Frohike tells his harried friends,
"smother one, Langly."

"The formula should last until tomorrow." Mulder grins. "I love you."

"Shut up," The short man replies. "You're not gonna leave 'em with us
overnight, are you? Come on, man, you can't be that hard-hearted."

"They're your godchildren, too," he says, and a beeping interrupts
him. "Oops, got another call. Give Sammy and Page my love."

"Mulder, kiss my," Frohike replies but is cut short.

"Mulder, your instincts were right about Skinner," Scully says over
the phone, the police sirens and hubbub filling the background.
"We've just arrested a man for attempted murder."

"That's great," Mulder says, and another weight is lifted off his
shoulders. He's thwarted Cardinal twice, and so far, all's right with
the world.

"Mulder, he said he knows where Krycek is. I don't know if this makes
any sense to you, he says he's headed towards an abandoned missile
site somewhere in North Dakota," she says, feeling an odd sense of
triumph over having caught the man. She isn't sure why, but it seems
there's something more important about the man than simply having
shot Skinner. Missy would say it was d�j� vu, and quickly, she
smothers the thought.

"I want you to meet me at the DC airport in an hour, I want you to
get two tickets on the first flight for North Dakota," he says,
hailing a taxi.

"What's in North Dakota?" she wonders aloud.

He grins. "Proof of this wild goose chase, Scully," he replies as the
taxi driver breaks all the laws of physics getting him to the
airport, "The salvaged UFO."

~*~*~

Like clockwork, they find the abandoned missile silo out of all the
hundreds of silos out there, mainly because of Mulder's "instinct,"
and end up being escorted from the premises courtesy of the Cigarette
Smoking Man and a good number of armed military types. Scully looks
at the men with loathing, as if they shouldn't be wearing their
uniforms, and Mulder twists around to confront the smoking man. "The
UFO's here. That's what Krycek's after, isn't it?" He yells.

The smoking man calmly exhales a puff of smoke. "Alex Krycek
disappeared five months ago," he says, as if stating that the earth
revolves around the sun.

Scully digs her considerable heels in the ground. "We saw bodies in
there. Men with radiation burns! Men like you!"

The smoking man looks at them with some measure of pity. "You saw
nothing," he says, tapping his cigarette to get rid of the ash.

"You won't get away with this! You can't bury the truth!" Mulder
hollers before he's shoved into the blue van with the feisty redhead.

Inside the van, Mulder looks at his wife. "I'm sorry," he says as
he's being manacled.

She shakes her head. "We've come close before," she says, "we'll get
proof."

He smiles a little. "Does that mean you believe there was a UFO in
there, Scully?"

She gives him a look. "I believe there was something in there that
killed those soldiers," she says, looking pointedly at their captors,
"The same thing that sickened the men from the Piper Maru." Scully
puts a shackled hand on her husband's. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," he says, and adds quickly, "really. I'm just hoping the
Lone Gunmen won't kill our kids before we get back."

Her eyes blaze, and even the military men scoot away. "You did
*what*?"

Forget the body-jumping, radiation-inducing oilien, Mulder thinks,
the wrath of Scully is enough to put a whole gallon of that stuff to
shame. And he endures it without CDC protection for the rest of their
journey back to DC

~*~*~


Washington DC
November 10th, 1995

The house seems too quiet to Scully. Mulder took both babies with him
to look for pumpkin pie, a turkey and other Thanksgiving supplies.
Despite her protest that neither child is old enough to have any idea
what will be going on in a couple of weeks, he insisted that an
appreciation for the holidays must be instilled in children when they
are very young. Rather than argue about it, she humors him, knowing
that anything they do for the holidays will really be for him. That's
okay with her, she likes the way his eyes light up when they arrive
each year.

The ring of the doorbell shatters the quiet, and makes her smile
broadly. Her own plans for the afternoon can now get under way

"Thanks for coming over, Mom," Scully says, giving her mother a hug
when the older woman walks into the house.

"No problem." Maggie smiles. "Is the stuff you wanted to move still
in the nursery?"

"Yes. I packed most of their out-grown clothes up into zippered bag
and put them in the bassinette. I should only take one trip if we
both grab an end." They head up the stairs. "I can't believe Sammy is
big enough for a crib already. It seems like it was only days ago
that we called you to come get Page before rushing off to the
hospital."

"August wasn't so many days ago, really. Are you sure you want to
store these things instead of giving them away?" Maggie asks
innocently.

Knowing that her mother is fishing, Scully hides her smile. "Yes, I'm
sure, Mom. I'd like to have another baby someday."

"And Fox wants another baby too?"

"He loves being a Dad. I'm sure that he'd like more kids too."

Maggie nods. "He's a great Dad, the kind of father that I hope your
brother Bill will be, when he and Tara have children."

"Is she pregnant?" Scully asks curiously, looking up from making sure
the bags aren't sticking out of the bassinette.

Maggie sighs. "Not yet. Their specialist thinks that it's just a
matter of time, though."

"I hope things work out for them. Having a kid might ground Bill. I
hope."

"Part of his prickliness towards you and Charlie stems from jealousy,
Dana. He's the oldest, and his youngest siblings already have kids of
their own. It hurts his pride a little, you must know that."

"I do know that, Mom. But I'm pretty sure it annoys him more that
we've had kids with no effort. Charlie's son was as much of a
surprise as Page was, after all."

"There's that." Maggie agrees.

They each pick up an end of the laden bassinette and begin to crab
walk their way towards the attic stairs. "Your father and I would
have liked more kids, you know."

Scully looks at her with surprise. "No, I didn't know."

"It's not like your brother's problem, we could have had them easily,
but it with your father gone so often, four kids was as many as I
could handle on my own." The conversation comes to a halt until
they've managed to man-handle their burden up the stairs. The effort
makes Scully glad that there's an actual staircase to the attic, not
one of those pull down ladders that are so common place. "You four
kept me jumping."

"Sorry?" Scully's voice is uncertain.

"There's nothing to be sorry about. I'm just glad that work doesn't
separate you and Fox very often, and that you can afford to hire
someone to look after my grandchildren when necessary."

"I actually feel a little guilty about that..." Scully admits.

"Don't. Children should be a parent's priority, but they shouldn't be
their whole life. That sort of thing isn't healthy for anyone
involved, parents or children."

Maggie pats her arm as they leave the attic. "I think I heard a car,
maybe it's Fox."

"Oh good, then you can help haul in a turkey too." Scully grins. "And
when people ask you how you're such good shape at your age, you can
thank me."

Her mother's only reply to raise her eyebrows.

~*~*~

November 13th, 1995

"Mulder! If we don't get this food inside, it's all going to spoil!"
Scully calls, looking at the bags in the car in dismay. She can bring
in the kids, or the groceries, not both. It seems to her that this is
an issue almost every day...who knew that a family of four would need
so many groceries?

"What, are you expecting a sudden heat-wave? It's forty degrees out,
which is very close to the temperature in the refrigerator," Mulder
says, reappearing. "You should know the temperature, you're the one
who made me put a hat on Sammy." Even though Sammy had more hair than
his sister did at his age, Scully was still fanatical, insisting that
most body heat is lost through the head. Not, she insisted, a good
thing for their three-month-old. And no, Mulder, fiery red hair
doesn't provide any additional warmth.

She doesn't find his reasoning amusing. "What were you doing?"

"Getting the mail. We've got something from John Doggett," he says,
waving something card-shaped.

"A little early for a Christmas card, don't you think?" Scully
remarks, grabbing the bags, and leaving the kids for Mulder to haul
in.

"Maybe it's a thanksgiving card. They have those at Hallmark."

After they put everything away, and remove everyone's coats, which
takes quite a while, Mulder remembers the mail. He uses a letter
opener to slice it open; not because it's quicker, but because it's
cooler.

"Oh oh. Looks like we're not the only family that's growing." He
hands Scully the picture and accompanying letter.

"Hannah's a pretty name," Scully says, studying the picture. "They
look so happy...but it must be kind of strange having kids ten years
apart in age."

"As opposed to having a new kid every year?" Mulder asks with a
smirk.

Scully gives an unladylike snort. "That trend will not be
continuing."

"Aww, come on Scully, you could go back to the church and I could
convert, then we could have one every year just like they did in the
old days."

"Yeah right. As much as I like to make my mom happy, I'm not going
back to the church."

"Damn, and here I was getting all hot over the thought of having fish
every Friday. Sensuous salmon..."

Scully pushes his shoulder. "Jerk."

Later on, his mind wanders as he's supposed to be working on a case
report. Hannah Doggett, born three weeks earlier. She hadn't been
part of the plan when he went back to repair things, but Scully was
right. They did look happy in the picture. Still, he wonders what
that means for what would have been for Doggett and Reyes. Shrugging,
he reminds himself that he'd originally thought it would be better
that Doggett and Reyes never met than for Doggett and his son to die
too young. It's out of his hands.

~*~*~


Chapter Thirty

November 28th, 1995

Mulder is still in the office, reading the file on their new case, a
boy named Kevin Kryder who is exhibiting the stigmata. He knows that
he could have gone home with Scully, and still know more than he
would from reading the file, but he says to keep up appearances.
As he's shutting the folder, the phone rings.

"Mulder, I have terrible news." Scully's voice sounds upset.

For a moment terrible images flash through his mind- Page getting by
the baby gate and falling down the stairs; Sammy cold in his crib a
victim of SIDS...before he can get himself too panicked, he croaks
out, "What?"

"It's Mrs. K."

"Is she dead?" Mulder blurts out before he can stop himself.

"No, she's not dead." Scully doesn't sound happy. "She and her
husband won the lottery. They're retiring in Hawaii."

At first Mulder can't see why this is so tragic, but then he realizes
why she's so upset. "When are they leaving?"

"In three days."

"Uh oh."

"You don't know the half of it. We're supposed to leave on that case
tomorrow, and my mom is visiting Charlie. And Mulder, before you even
suggest it, we are NOT leaving Sammy and Page with your lunatic
friends again."

That hurts him a little. How can she call them lunatics when she
thinks of them as useful? "We need to get a nanny."

"We're not going to get one by tomorrow." The level of agitation in
her voice goes up a notch.

Mulder drags a hand across his face. "I'll call my Mom."

"Your mother?" Scully's noise of disbelief is not flattering either.
"Mulder, does she even like children?"

"She liked them enough to have two of them."

"That proves nothing."

Unfortunately, he's inclined to agree, but what other choice do they
have? As much as the kids love his dad, he doesn't think his father's
drinking is under control enough to feel comfortable leaving two
helpless babies with him, and if he doesn't feel comfortable Scully
definitely wouldn't. "I'll give her a call, Scully."

"Fine. We're going to look into a nanny as soon as we're done with
this case."

"Yes, yes we are."

~*~*~

Their case does not start off easily, mostly because of Teena Mulder.
To Mulder's vast relief, she doesn't refuse, but when they get there
with the kids, she makes no effort to hid her reluctance to take care
of her grandchildren. He can tell that this upsets Scully, almost as
much as the way Teena holds Sammy like he's a time-bomb waiting to go
off. It's always hard to leave the kids, but this is much harder than
usual.

That the case involves a young child doesn't make them think about
their own children any less, since they're thankful that Page and
Sammy are far better off than the poor little boy that the case
centers around.

This in mind after they speak to the boy's teacher, Mulder wonders if
he ought to suggest that they bring Kevin home with them, rather than
put him in the as-it-turns-out-not-very-safe house. In the end, he
decides that Scully wouldn't go for it, and would find the remark too
uncharacteristic of him. Sighing, he hopes there's another way to
keep Kevin's mother safe, but he can't help but think of Spiney and
Householder...

Scully must notice Mulder's lack of focus as they speak to the boy's
father, because she nudges him with her elbow.

"He's bleeding again, isn't he?" Kevin's father is so calm as he asks
the question, so very calm.

"Yes. How did you know that?" Scully asks him. Mulder wonders if she
means for her voice to be that sharp.

"Because the faithful know."

"Mr. Kryder, the claims you've made for your son may have put him in
danger. Do you know that?" ::If you'd kept your mouth shut, maybe he
could have gone his whole life unnoticed. Do you have any idea what
you've done?:: Mulder keeps his frustrated thoughts to himself.

"The child was in danger long before I ever made the claims. Since
the day he was born, they've been watching him."

"Don't we all fear that?" Scully asks. "That we've put our children
in danger merely by having them?"

Mulder shoots her a look; her remarks would be less chilling if she
knew about William too. Banishing the thought, he turns back to
mister Kryder. "They?"

"The forces of darkness. They will come in the form of a powerful and
respected man."

::Don't they always?:: "These forces. What do they want?" he asks
instead.

"To claim all souls. You must understand, this is the great war
between good and evil."

Scully raises an eyebrow. "Armageddon?"

"God will find someone to stop it. Someone who is strong enough to
make the sacrifice."

The man's faith is so powerful that Mulder envies him. "He's chosen
you?"

"I'm merely a messenger."

"Let's go."

Mister Kryder speaks to Scully as she gets up to leave. "You must
come full circle to find the truth."

"Excuse me?" Mulder asks, bristling.

"Full circle to find the truth? I don't know what that means," Scully
says.

"You will."

~*~*~

 Mulder feels out of control as he leads the charge to retrieve Kevin
from Jarvis. It doesn't feel like the outcome of this case is going
to be any different from the first time around. "Federal agents! Put
down your weapon! Put it down right here! Down, now! Put it down!"
Jarvis complies. "Where's the boy? Where's the boy?"

Jarvis doesn't answer. Scully goes around him to search through the
house. Jarvis speaks to Scully as she passes him. "Don't hurt him.
Please?"

As she climbs up the latter to the attic, Mulder can't help but
wonder if she knows who Jarvis means.
 
"Where's the boy? What have you done with Kevin?" Mulder asks.

"He can't go home. It's not safe there. I told him that."

Mulder picks up and shoves a bloodstained towel in Jarvis' face. "Is
this Kevin Kryder's blood?"

"Yes."

"Did you hurt him?" Mulder asks, knowing that the man didn't.

"No. I'm not the one that wants to hurt him," Jarvis says just as
Scully rejoins them.

"If it's not you, then who is it?" she asks.

"I was only asked to protect the boy."

"By who? Who asked you to protect him?" Mulder demands to know.

"God."

"God! That's quite a long distance call, isn't it?"

"You don't understand, unless someone protects Kevin..."

"It's the end of the world as we know it, right?" Mulder asks
sarcastically. For some reason he wants to punish the man for what's
going to happen soon. For deliberately being a martyr when he could
have helped the boy in another way.

"He who has ears, let him hear."

"And he that has a tongue, let him speak. Now tell me where he is!"

Jarvis turns to Scully instead, and looks at her cross. "You believe
me, don't you? I mean, you must wear that as a reminder."

"Mr. Jarvis, my religious convictions are hardly the issue here," she
protests.

"But they are. How can you help Kevin, if you don't believe? Even the
killer, he believes."

"And townsfolk wonder why I sleep in on Sunday," Mulder says with a
smirk.

"Mass on Christmas, fish on Friday. You think that makes you a good
Christian. Just because you don't understand the sacrifice, because
you're unwilling, don't think for a moment that you set the rules for
me. I don't question His word. Whatever He asks of me, I'll do."
Jarvis stands up, his hands still bound behind him in the chair.

"Sit down, Mr. Jarvis."

"I just want to go to heaven." Despite having to bend over because of
his bonds, he runs toward the window. Before Mulder can stop him,
he's jumped out the window.

Twenty minutes later, they find Kevin. Jarvis is dead on the floor
and there are new blood stains on the bandages on the back side of
Kevin's hands.

Mulder's heart aches as he watches his wife try to comfort the
frighten child. "You'll be OK. You'll be OK."
 
Kevin's eyes are huge as he looks up at her. "Are you the one who was
sent to protect me?"

~*~*~

Mulder's remarks about religion come back to bite him in the ass
later, and he wonders if things won't be worse this time since he's
been the one teasing her about it.

"Well, what do you think this is?" she asks, after telling him how
Jarvis' body isn't decomposing normally.

"This man? He was rather abnormal in life, maybe he's decomposing
abnormally."

"Well, isn't a saint or a holy person just another term for someone
who's abnormal?"

::I've been called abnormal many times, but never a saint.:: He
thinks grumpily. "Do you really believe that?"

"I...believe in the idea that God's hand can be witnessed. I believe
He can create miracles, yes."

"Even if science can't explain them?"

"Maybe that's just what faith is." Even though he's heard it once
before, her simple statement still surprises him. It's hard to
reconcile his image of her being coolly logical with another of
someone who has strong faith in God.

"Well, I wouldn't let faith overwhelm your judgment here. These
people are simply fanatics behaving fanatically using religion as a
justification. They give bona fide paranoiacs like myself a bad name.
They're no more divine or holy than that ketchup we saw on the
murdered preacher. And I think once you've finished your autopsy,
you'll come to the same conclusion. St. Owen."

~*~*~

As Mulder had feared, Kevin's mother cannot be saved yet again. 
 
When they reach the scene of the accident Kevin is unhurt, and
wrapped in a blanket and sitting in the back seat of their car.
Scully immediately goes to speak to him, leaving Mulder to watch from
a distance. He lets them talk for a couple of minutes before joining
them.
 
 "Is he ready to go?

"I want to keep him with us, Mulder, until Gates is apprehended."
Mulder stares at her, realizing that she's got something on her mind
that she hadn't last time. "Look, I know about getting personally
involved and I'm not," she says, belying his new theory.

"Did he ID Gates?"

"Yes."

"That'll help. A man fitting Gates' description rented a car, under
the name Forau. That's one of the Devil's disciples."

~*~*~

The Westward Inn 

Mulder talks to his mother on the hotel room phone as Scully draws a
bath for Kevin.

"Mom, it's me," Mulder says, hoping for some good news on her end.
"How's everyone?"

Fat chance. Even before she answers, he can hear wailing in the
background. "Fox," she says in a strained voice, "we're, we're fine."

Oh no, she's using Scully's "fine", he groans inwardly. "As long as
nobody's had sugar, it should be cool." There's a silence at the
other end, and, swallowing hard, he forces his tone to be positive.
"Mom, if they're fed and changed, just read to Page, she'll be okay
once she's in bed. It'll take a while, but she'll fall asleep
eventually. And Sammy, when you stand up and hold him, you can sing
him to sleep."

"You know I can't sing," she protests half-heartedly, interrupting
herself with, "No, Sammy, don't eat that!"

He grins at the memory as well as the image of Sammy sticking God
knows what into his drooling mouth, and is surprised to find it's not
a forced smile. "I know, but neither can I. Somehow, the sound of
tone-deaf singing knocks the kid out. Guess it's hereditary," he
quips, looking at the bathroom door where his equally tone-deaf wife
is.

She chuckles, and it's a welcome sound. "Would you like to talk to
them?" she asks.

"Sure," he says. "Thanks, Mom."

She makes a smiling "hmph" sound before putting the receiver down.
Distantly, he hears, "Page, your daddy wants to talk to you."

"Daddy!" He hears his little girl say. Somehow, despite this case and
the horrible things he knows are going to happen, things seem
somewhat better. "Hi, Daddy!"

"Hi, Page," he says, a goofy grin plastered on his face. "I miss you.
Are you and Sammy behaving for Grandma?"

She giggles, which doesn't bode well for Grandma, and the phone is
dropped. Wincing, he rubs his ear until a gurgling sound catches his
attention. "Sammy? Be nice to Grandma, okay? Daddy loves you."

There is a shifting of sound, and his mother's voice comes back on.
"Fox, be careful," she says, and a startled "oof!" escapes her lips.

Uh-oh, sounds like they're a long way from sleep. "You, too," he
says, wondering if placing bets on his mother's chances would be
unfair. "See you soon."

A sigh escapes her lips. "Not soon enough," she says before hanging
up.

::Maybe I should place bets on how soon we find a nanny,:: he also
sighs, taking out the briefcase with the casefile inside. ::I love my
mom, but I'm not sure she's kid-friendly or child-safe.:: Then he
thinks of Gates and figures it could be worse.

~*~*~

By the time Scully's done in the bathroom, Mulder is sitting on the
bed reviewing the case file.

"You never draw my bath," Mulder jokes, but she's not in a joking
mood.

"Kevin has a cut under his ribs."

"He was in an accident."

"No, I...I was with the paramedics when they were looking at him. It
wasn't there."

"Maybe you missed it."

"No, Mulder, I was paying close attention."

"What do you think it is?"

"Yesterday, I saw Kevin's hands. They were bleeding from identical
wounds on the top as on the bottom...just like in the crucifixion."

"Scully..."

"There have been other signs. I haven't said anything until now,
because I haven't been sure...and I'm still not sure."

"Sure of what exactly?"

"How Kevin was able to be in two places at once..."

"He's got an evil twin?"

"...just like St. Ignatius was able to do in the Bible." Scully
finishes her statement despite the interruption.

"That was in the Bible. It's a parable, it's a metaphor for the
truth, not the truth itself. Why didn't Kevin conveniently bi-locate
when Owen Jarvis abducted him from the shelter?"

Scully is beginning to become angry. Or maybe defensive. He can't
tell which. "How is it that you're able to go out on a limb whenever
you see a light in the sky, but you're unwilling to accept the
possibility of a miracle? Even when it's right in front of you."

"I wait for a miracle every day. But what I've seen here has only
tested my patience, not my faith." :: I know I'm wrong. Every day I
relive is a miracle, but in penance I'm unable to say a word about it
to anyone, especially you.:: he adds silently, wishing he could say
it out loud.

"Well, what about what I've seen?"

Before they can continue their conversation there is a thumping
noise. Scully walks toward the bathroom door.

"Kevin? You OK?" She tries the door but it's locked. "I didn't lock
it."

Mulder breaks open the door. Kevin is gone and the window is broken.
The bars on the outside of the window are bent and glowing red.

"I'll call the police," he promises.

~*~*~

The Next Day

Mulder's cell phone rings. Scully walks out into the hallway while
Mulder lags behind to take the call. He hangs up and runs to catch up
with her.

"Scully. They had a sighting of Gates. He tried to rent another car
at the airport, under the name Forau again. Did you hear what I
said?" ::Don't listen to me.::

Scully is looking past him at a waste container against the wall. The
container has a recycling symbol on it.

"Mulder, look. Arrows that form a circle. Full circle to find the
truth. Gates' company owns a recycling plant near here. That's where
he's taken Kevin."

"You think it's you, don't you? You think you're the one who's been
chosen to protect Kevin."

"I don't know. Look, if I'm wrong, I'll meet you out at the airport.
OK?"

He hangs up the phone in frustration, frustration that has nothing to
do with being proven wrong. ::I know what you're thinking, Scully,
and it won't work. They'd never let you.::

~*~*~

The Shelter
Two Days Later 

Fortunately, Scully was no more inclined to listen to his protests
this time around than last, so she is able to save Kevin, like she
believes she is meant to. They go to the shelter to say good-bye to
Kevin, before they catch a flight home to relieve a frantic Teena
Mulder.

While Mulder paces, Kevin and Scully are in one of the shelter
bedrooms. Kevin has just finished packing his belongings.

"You all set?" Scully asks him.

"Yeah, thanks."

He reaches out to shake hands with Scully. She turns his hand over
and sees no sign of a wound on his palm, then shakes it. Kevin starts
to leave.

"Maybe I'll see you again sometime," Scully says with a brittle
smile.

"You will."

"You all ready, Kevin?" a social worker calls from the hallway.

"Yeah."

Kevin leaves. Scully turns away from the door and looks down as
Mulder enters. She brings a hand to her eyes to wipe away a tear, as
Mulder picks up her coat and helps her into it.

"You OK?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"We have a couple of hours before our flight. I told the sheriff we'd
go down and make a formal statement about Gates' death."

"Okay."

He puts his arm around her shoulder. "I know what you've been
thinking, and I'm sorry that it couldn't work out that way."

She gives him a wobbly smile. "Oh? What have I been thinking?"

"You've been thinking that we ought to take him home with us, where
he'll always have people who can protect him."

"Is that so wrong?"

"No, it's not wrong. It's just not realistic."

"Sometimes...sometimes it's good for a person to be unrealistic.
Other wise, we'd never feel hope."

He nods and holds her close. There's nothing he can put into words;
he just knows how she feels.

~*~*~

Chapter Thirty-One

Miller's Grove, Massachusetts 
December 5th, 1995 

Parked on the side of the road, Mulder is looking up at the stars,
which twinkle brightly in the clear sky. A white cockroach jumps on
his windshield and Mulder turns on the wiper, brushing it off. The
phone rings and he takes it out.

"Mulder."

"Mulder, I thought you were going to give me a call when you got to
your mom's house," Scully reminds him. Her free hand is trying to get
a spoonful of carrots into Page's reluctant mouth, but Page purses
her lips and shakes her head.

"I would have, if I made it that far. I got a call about 20 minutes
ago telling me that she had a 'last minute engagement' so we're not
having dinner after all. See what happens when I try to make things
up to her? Although, I don't think that Page and Sammy could have
been THAT bad..."

Scully gives her daughter a measured look, and wonders if Mulder is
being honest with himself. "Are you on your way home, then?"

"No, just, uh...sitting and thinking at the moment. Widespread
accounts of unidentified colored lights hovering in the skies were
reported last night. Look, Scully, I know it's not your inclination
but...did you ever look up into the night sky and feel certain
that...not only was something up there but...it was looking down on
you at that exact same moment and was just as curious about you as
you are about it?"

She puts down the spoon when it becomes obvious that Page is ready to
start shrieking about her dislike of carrots. The last thing she
needs is for Page to wake the baby. Her defeat makes her less than
enthused by Mulder's question. "Mulder, I think the only thing more
fortuitous than the emergence of life on this planet is that, through
purely random laws of biological evolution, an intelligence as
complex as ours ever emanated from it. Uh, the, the very idea...of
intelligent alien life is not only...astronomically improbable but at
it's most basic level, downright anti-Darwinian."

"Scully...what are you wearing?"

She laughs. "A t-shirt artfully decorated with carrot."

"I told you she hates carrots." Mulder snorts. "I understand what
you're saying but the improbability, but I, I, I just need to keep
looking."

"Yeah, well, don't look too hard. You might not like what you find."

"Isn't that what, uh, Doctor Zaius said to Charlton Heston at the end
of 'Planet of the Apes?'"

"And look what happened." Scully reaches for a jar of apple sauce,
and is greeted by an enthusiastic reception from Page. She reminds
herself that rolling her eyes at her toddler isn't going to teach the
girl anything she wants her to know.
 
"Scully, I got to go. I'll call you in a little bit. Something's come
up."

Mulder squirms when a sheriff approaches his car and looks inside.
Some things never change.

"How you doing?" Sheriff Frass asks as Mulder rolls down the window.
Mulder shrugs. "What are you doing?"

"Just sitting, thinking."

"Sitting and thinking?" Mulder nods. "And talking on the phone? Who
with, your drug dealer?" Mulder is unable to keep himself from
laughing. Frass frowns at him. "Let me see some I.D." Mulder reaches
into his pocket and hands him his badge." The bureau? You on a case?"

"I heard reports of several UFO sightings in this area last night.
You see anything?" Mulder asks by way of a reply.

"No, sir, not personally. But we did receive a lot of telephone
calls."

"Any more calls tonight?"

"No, sir. The F.B.I. keeps tabs on these things?"

"No," Mulder admits. "I was supposed to be having dinner with my
mother, and I heard about the sightings on the radio."

 The sheriff looks puzzled. "Excuse me, sir, I don't like to pry, but
why are you sitting here with your wiper blades on?"

"Oh, I was just knocking off some bugs that landed on my..." Frass
grabs his gun in panic. Mulder looks at him strangely. "Landed on my
windshield."

"Cockroaches?" Frass asks quickly, still looking panicked. 

"Maybe, maybe beetles. I dunno, I'm not really good with bugs."

Just then there's a squawk on the sheriff's, which they both hear
through the open window. "...send dispatch unit, over."

Frass looks over to his car, then motions for Mulder to wait a second
and goes to his car. As the woman continues to talk, Frass gets in
his car and pulls up to Mulder's window, handing back his badge.
"Sorry to disturb you, sir."

"What's the matter?"

"Another roach attack."

~*~*~

Washington DC

Scully, who has finally gotten Page to bed is sitting in front of
her television set, eating a salad. The phone rings and she picks up,
"Hello? Mulder? I thought you were going to call right back."
 
"I know it's late to get a sitter, but I think you better get up
here." ::Hope I'm not any more convincing than the last time
around.::

"What is it?"

"It appears that cockroaches are mortally attacking people."

"I'm not going to ask you if you just said what I think you just said
because I know it's what you just said."

"I'm crouching over a bug exterminator whose recently deceased body
was discovered with cockroaches crawling all over him. The local
sheriff says that two other bodies were found in the same condition
this afternoon."
 
"Where are you again?" Scully asks, sticking her fork into her salad
with a sigh.

"Miller's Grove. It has a large science constituency. The other
incidents involved a molecular biologist and an astrophysicist and
the witness to this case is an alternative fuel researcher. These
reports are not coming from yahoos out in the boondock."

"Were there insect bites on the body?"

She waits while Mulder asks if there were any bites on the bodies.
"No."

"'Cause you know, Mulder, millions of people are actually allergic to
cockroaches. There have been reported cases of fatal reactions. It's
called, uh, anaphylactic shock. Like the kid in that movie 'My
Girl'."

"That you made me watch..." he mutters. "So the roaches could have
killed them with anaphylactic shock?"

"Mm-hmm. Many such reactions have occurred to entomologists or
exterminators."

"Okay, we'll check that out."

"You still want me to come up?"

"No, no, no, it's late, there's no reason to get the kids up for
this. I'm sure you're right. Thanks, Scully."

Shrugging, she reaches for her salad, hoping it's not too wilted.

~*~*~

Mulder hangs up.

Frass asks, "Who was that?"

"My drug dealer." Mulder smirks. "My wife is an FBI agent too, my
partner at the bureau."

"How'd you manage to swing that?"

"It's a long story. Too long for tonight."

~*~*~

Scully is in the middle of pouring the contents of a bottle called
"Die! Flea! Die!" onto Queequeg and starts to run it through his fur
when phone rings. She towel-dries her hands and grabs the phone.

"Stay," she commands and Queequeg whimpers.

"Hello?"

"I take it back, Scully, I think you better get up here." :: I kind
of like this. I bet being able to 'prove me wrong' feels good. Maybe
I'll be rewarded tomorrow...::

"Another roach attack?" Scully asks, which snaps him out of his
daydream about the possibilities for the following day.

"Yeah, and this was no allergic reaction. Two witnesses claim they
saw the victim screaming about cockroaches burrowing into him."

Scully continues to dry her hands. The flea product has a nasty
texture to it, so she wants to hang up and wash her hands properly.
"Are there still insects in the body?"

"We haven't located any yet, but there are wounds all over the body."

"From the cockroaches?"

"Well...the victim did attempt to extract the insects using a razor
blade, but we're not sure all of the incisions are self-inflicted,
except for the severed artery."

"Well, was there any evidence of drug use at the crime scene?" She
uses one hand to hold her whining dog down.

"Uh, well, he did have a homemade lab set up, but I'm not sure what
he was producing." Scully hears him pick something up, then call to
someone in the same room as him. "Aww, man, smells like a septic
tank! Would you make sure this gets analyzed, here?"
 
 "You know, Mulder, there's a psychotic disorder associated with some
forms..." Queequeg makes another break for it and she thwarts him
again. "...of drug abuse where the abuser suffers from delusions that
insects are infesting their epidermis. It's called Ekbom's Syndrome."

"Ekbom's Syndrome?" Mulder repeats. 

"The victim cuts himself in, in an attempt to extract the imaginary
insect. Still want me to come up?"

"No, uh, you're probably right. I'm sorry to bother you. See you in
the morning."

"You better be home in the morning, Mulder," she threatens playfully.
She hangs up and turns around to see that Queequeg has run off. She
looks for the dog and hears a yelping. "Hey!" He's quicker than her,
mostly because she's trying not to make too much noise. Queequeg, on
the other hand, neither knows nor cares how long it took her to get
the kids down for the night.

~*~*~

Frass walks in and informs them that there's an autopsy waiting to be
done while Newton examines the cut on Mulder's hand that was caused
by catching the metallic insect he found a moment after getting off
the phone with Scully. Frass's tone suggests that examining cuts is a
frivolous waste of time.

Newton doesn't look excited about the prospect of cutting up a body.
"Uh, after talking with Agent Mulder here, I suddenly feel slightly
constipated," Newton says. He glares at Mulder and walks out. Mulder
has the urge to tell him not to strain himself, but he doesn't think
it would make any difference so he decides not to piss the sick man
off any further.

"What's his problem?" Frass asks.

"He's upset that I don't know what's going on here."

"So what the hell is going on here?"

"We're stuck in a bad B movie?" Mulder guesses. Now Frass is glaring
at him too. "I see the correlation, but just because I work for the
federal government doesn't mean I'm an expert on cockroaches."

"So you're saying you don't know anything about the government's
experiments being conducted here?"

"Experiments?"

"A couple of months ago, an agent claiming to be from the department
of agriculture sets up base on a couple of acres across town. Nobody
knows exactly what's going on out there. It's top secret, very
hush-hush."

"What are you suggesting?"

"Killer bees were a genetic experiment gone awry, let loose on an
unsuspecting populace. Who's to say the government hasn't created a
new breed of killer cockroaches?"

"You might want to keep that theory to yourself, sheriff. No need to
create a panic." Mulder advises, knowing that the panic is inevitable
anyway.

"Oh! Oh, my God! Somebody help, help, hey!"

Mulder and Frass run into the bathroom to see a man kneeling,
checking Newton's pulse.

Frass looks down at the man hovering over Newton. "What the hell
happened?"

"Cockroaches. He was covered in cockroaches."

"There's one!" Mulder exclaims, looking instinctively at the sink.

Once again the cockroach escapes his grasp and scurries down the
sink.

"Next time, let me handle the roaches," Frass grumbles as the
cockroach's back legs disappear from sight.

 ~*~*~

Washington, DC

Scully is sitting on the couch, reading Breakfast at Tiffany's when
the phone rings again. She puts the book aside with a sigh- it had
been her hope that she'd have enough peace and quiet to finish the
novella before one of the kids needed something.

"Who died now?"

"The medical examiner. His body was found next to a toilet, covered
in roaches. I really think you should come..."
 
"A toilet? Check his eyes. Is one of them bloodshot with a dilated
pupil?"

"Yeah."

"It's probably a brain aneurysm," Scully says, giving her book a
longing look.

"Brain aneurysm?"

"Straining too forcefully is very common causation for bursting a
brain aneurysm."

"Well, how do you explain the roaches, though?"

"Did you catch any?"

"Almost."

"I don't know what to tell you, Mulder. I just hope you're not
implying you've come across an infestation of killer cockroaches."

~*~*~
 
Usda Base 
Miller's Grove, Massachusetts

Mulder scales the fence and lands just as his phone rings. He answers
it. "Mulder."

"Mulder? I've been doing some research. Back in the mid-'80s, there
was a cockroach species previously only found in Asia. And since
then, it's made an appearance in Florida. They've now completely
established themselves in this country."

"Do they attack people?" Mulder asks as he approaches the building.

"No, but they do exhibit behavior different than our domestic breeds.
They, they fly for long distances and they're attracted to light."

"But do they attack people?"

"I'm suggesting that what's happening out there might be the
introduction to this country of a new species of cockroach...One that
is attracted to people."

"Well, that all makes perfect sense, Scully. I don't like it at all.
Did you know that the federal government, under the guise as the
department of agriculture, as been conducting secret experiments up
here?"

" Mulder, you're not thinking about trespassing onto government
property again, are you?" Mulder takes out his lockpick gun. "I know
that you've done it in the past, but I don't think that this case
warrants..."

"It's too late, I'm already inside."

Scully sighs loudly. "Well, what's going on? What do you see?"

"I'm in a house. It's apparently empty."

"What does the place look like?"

"It's a, uh...typical two-story suburban house. Nice big living room,
sparsely furnished...Nice carpets...fireplace...Nice kitchen. Modern
appliances." He looks at the wallpaper and sees bumps crawling
underneath. "Moving walls."

 "Moving walls?"

"Yeah. They're rippling." He pokes the wallpaper with his flashlight
and cockroaches pour out. "Oh! Cockroaches!" Even knowing that it was
going to happen doesn't make it any less disgusting.

"What?!"

"Cockroaches. They're everywhere." Cockroaches cover the walls and
appliances on the counters. They run all over the floor and on his
feet. "Ah, I'm surrounded."

"Mulder, you've got to get out of there right now!" Mulder screams.
"Are you all right? What happened?"

Cut to Mulder shakes the flashlight. "Flashlight went out..."

The light turns on. "Mulder, what's going on?"

"I'm okay, but I've got to go."

~*~*~

Bambi Berenbaum gives Mulder a hostile look. "May I ask why you're
trespassing on government property?"

"I'm a federal agent."

"So am I."

Mulder shows her his badge. "Agent Mulder, F.B.I."

Berenbaum shows him her badge. "Doctor Berenbaum, U.S.D.A.
Agricultural research service."

"Doctor Berenbaum, I'm going to have to ask you a few questions."

"For instance?"

"Why is a nice house like this filled with cockroaches?"
 

Mulder and Berenbaum walk into a room much like Mulder's office.
There is a terrarium with cockroaches on a desk.

"By studying how insects respond to changes in light, temperature,
air currents, food availability, we can determine the best ways to
eradicate them," Bambi says.

"That's kind of cold, getting to know them only to exploit their
weaknesses...Why all the secrecy about your research? You've got some
of the good townspeople suspicious."

"You expect us to advertise that we've intentionally infested a house
in their neighborhood with thousands of cockroaches?"

"I suppose that would put a damper on neighboring property values."
He points out of the room. "Those cockroaches...are they, uh, a
normal species?"

"They're a common one."

"Have you ever come across a type of cockroach that is attracted to
people?" They sit down. "That gravitates towards them, I mean."

"Most cockroaches have been known to actually wash themselves after
being touched by humans."

"Really. So, you've never seen an instance where a cockroach actually
attacks a human being?"

"Well, there have been cases where a cockroach has crawled into a
person's ear or nose."

"Nose?" He unconsciously touches his nose. He then points to a
strange looking device. An orange cone holds a lid on top with a
cockroach in it "What is that there? A roach torturing device?"

"Oh, it's just a pet project of mine. Since an insect's exoskeleton
is a dielectric surrounding the conductive medium of its body fluid,
when introduced into an electrical field, a brushed discharge will
result in a colored flare." She presses a big red button and the
exoskeleton glows blue.

"What is that supposed to prove?"

"Well, it's my theory that UFOs are actually insect swarms." He
stares at her. "I don't know if you know anything about UFOs, but all
the characteristics of a typical sighting are shared with nocturnal
insects swarming through an electrical air field...the sudden
appearance of a colored, glowing light hovering in the night sky,
moving in a non-mechanical matter, possibly humming. Creating
interference with radio and television signals. Then suddenly
disappearing."

"UFO sightings as nocturnal insect swarms? That's absurd. Do you
honestly think that people couldn't tell the difference between a
craft and a swarm of bugs?"

Bambi glares at him. "Insects don't have the delusions we suffer
under. They are truly remarkable creatures. So beautiful, and so
honest."

"Honest?"

"Eat, sleep...defecate, procreate. That's all they do. That's all we
do, but at least insects don't kid themselves that it's anything more
than that."

"I have two babies," Mulder blurts out.

For some reason Bambi looks more annoyed by this revelation, but she
quickly masks her feelings. "Twins?" she asks.

"No. My daughter Page is fourteen months old and my son Sammy is
three and a half months old," Mulder tells her, trying not to sound
defensive. So many people make a big deal about their ages.

Bambi is no exception. "Wow. The insects would admire your waste no
time attitude." She sounds oddly impressed.

Mulder blushes. "Our son was a surprise." :: Well if you asked Scully
she'd say they both were...but I know otherwise, of course::

"Imagine if you were a roach. All your children would come as a
surprise."

"Perish the thought."

 ~*~*~

As soon as Mulder checks into a hotel room, he calls Scully.

"Mulder, are you okay?"

"I told you I was when I hung up."

"What happened at the U.S.D.A. site?"

"They're conducting legitimate experiments. If you can call trying to
prove that UFO sightings are caused by insects legitimate. I met an
entomologist, Doctor Berenbaum, who agrees with your theory of an
accidental importation of a new cockroach species."

"Did he give you any idea of how to catch them?"

"No. But she did tell me everything else there is to know about
insects. In great and boring detail."

"She?"

"Yeah, did you know that the ancient Egyptians worshipped the scarab
beetle and possibly erected the pyramids to honor them, which may be
just giant symbolic dung heaps?"

"Did you know the inventor of the flush toilet was named Thomas
Crapper?"

Mulder laughs a little. "Bambi also has this idiotic theory I've
never come acro-"

"Who?"

"Doctor Berenbaum. Anyway, her theory is-"

"Her name is Bambi?"

"Yeah, you'd expect her to be an exotic dancer with that name but
she's a scientist. Both her parents were naturalists. Her theory is-"

"Her name is Bambi?"

Mulder rubs his forehead and decides to give up on explaining her UFO
theory. "Scully, can I confess something to you?"
 
"Yeah, sure, okay."

"I hate insects."

"You know, lots of people are afraid of insects, Mulder. It's just
a...it's a natural, instinctive."

"No, no, I'm not afraid of them. I hate them. One day back when I was
a kid, I, uh...I was climbing this tree when I noticed this leaf
walking towards me. It took forever for me to realize that it was no
leaf."

"A praying mantis?"

"Yeah, I had a praying mantis epiphany and, as a result, I screamed.
No, not...not a girlie scream, but the scream of someone being
confronted by some before unknown monster that had no right existing
on the same planet I inhabited. Did you ever notice how a praying
mantis' head resembles an alien's head? I mean, the mysteries of the
natural world were revealed to me that day, but instead of being
astounded, I was...repulsed."

"Mulder...Are you sure it wasn't a girlie scream?"
 
Just then there's a real scream from another room.

"What was that?"

"Oh, I got to go. I'll bet there's been another death." He hangs up.
 
After the body is removed, Mulder captures a cockroach and brings it
first to Bambi then to the institute for robotics to be examined. He
tries to talk Scully out of coming up, but she calls to let him know
that she's on her way. At least she doesn't have the kids with her.

~*~*~

 Miller's Grove, Massachusetts

Scully feels like she's walked into a mad house when she stops for a
map. The town is in mass hysteria, and no evidence of that is more
evident than in a convenience store

"Excuse me, do you sell road maps?" Scully asks a clerk behind the
counter. He nods. "Could you tell me where they are?"
 
"Come on, hurry up!" a woman in the next line demands rudely. That
clerk gives the woman a long-suffering look, and doesn't ring any
faster.

"What's going on here?" Scully asks.

"Haven't you heard about the roaches? They're devouring people
whole." She ignores Scully's disbelieving look. "Everybody's getting
the hell out of here."

"Have you seen any of cockroaches yourself?"

"No, but they're everywhere," the woman insists before running off as
soon her purchases are bagged.

The next man in the next line goes to the counter. "Roaches aren't
attacking people, lady. They're spreading the Ebola virus." He throws
a fifty on the counter and picks up his stuff. "Look, keep the
change." He looks back at Scully as he leaves the store. "We're all
going to be bleeding from our nipples!" Then he runs out.

"All right." She shouts holding up her badge. All right, listen up!"

Everyone shuts up.
 
"I'm Agent Dana Scully from the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I am
assuring you that you are not in any danger. Everything is going to
be okay if you just calm down, and start acting rationally. Now,
where the hell are those road maps?"

She looks at the clerk. A woman looks at another one and they both
reach for the last can of "Die! Bug! Die!" They both grab it and pull
at it.

" Hey! This last can is mine!"

The other woman yanks her around and knocks her backwards into a
store display loaded with Choco Droppings. The small, brown pebbles
fall out onto the floor, rolling everywhere. An especially frightened
man looks down.

"Roaches!"

Everyone, even the clerks, scream and leave, except for Scully.
Outside, car engines start and cars honk, people screaming. Scully
slowly makes her way over to the spilled candy. She bends down and
picks up a half-empty box, then eats a piece, looking around. "These
people are insane," she mutters before grabbing her phone.

~*~*~

"Mulder."

"Mulder, this town is insane. They're going to be burning people at
the stake any minute now, you can tell."

"Where are you?"

"I'm in a convenience store on the outskirts of, uh..." She gives the
map a puzzled look. "Civilization. Look, I think I may have a lead.
Remember that Doctor Eckerle who was the alternative fuel researcher
that witnessed the exterminator's death? Well, the fuel that he's
researching is methane gas...methane derived from manure."

"Manure?"

"He has an import license...to bring in animal dung samples from
outside the country. Now, maybe you can confirm this with your Doctor
Bambi-"

"She's not my doctor Bambi," Mulder mutters quietly enough so that
Bambi can't make out what he's saying.

Scully ignores his interruption."-but I think that cockroaches are
dung-eaters, and if so, some of them may have been shipped
accidentally in some of the samples. This fuel research facility
could be ground zero for the infestation." She eats another Choco
Dropping.

"Scully, if an alien civilization were technologically advanced
enough to build and send artificially intelligent robotic probes to
the farthest reaches of space, might they not have also been able to
perfect the extraction of methane fuel from manure? An abundant and
replenishing energy source filled on a planet with dung-producing
creatures."
 
"Mulder, I think you've been in this town too long."

"Where's the research facility located?"

~*~*~

Alt Fuels
Miller's Grove, Massachusetts 

The ugly building has an ugly sign, which reads "ALT FUELS Inc.:
Waste is a Terrible Thing to Waste"

"Wait, Bambi. You better wait here until I make sure it's safe. An
unarmed person could be a liability in a situation like this."

"Thanks. I think. Be careful. We still don't know what these
cockroaches are capable of, if they're even cockroaches."

"Well, I'm not so much worried about the cockroaches than I am about
the human element. I think even an unarmed doctor could hold her own
against some bugs."

"Never under estimate insects, Agent Mulder."

"Um yeah..." He shakes his head as he walks towards the building.

He gets out of the car. Doctor Eckerle peers out of his window
through his blinds, frightened, breathing heavily. Outside his
window, he sees rows of dung sitting on long tables, cockroaches
crawling over them and chirping. He sits down and clutches the can of
bug spray to his chest. He looks at a cockroach sitting on the desk
and sprays it with the "Die! Bug! Die!" The bug is immune to the
spray and crawls down the desk. Eckerle keeps spraying at it, almost
crying. He throws the can at the desk. Mulder walks through the dark
facility and into the room full of dung. He walks past, looking at
all of the cockroaches. He reaches down to pull one off of a pile
when a gunshot rings out. Mulder ducks as the bullet strikes the dung
heap he was reaching to. He looks up to see Eckerle aiming his gun at
him.

Mulder sees the man and calls out. "Doctor Eckerle?" He stands,
holding his hands out in a non-threatening manner.

"They're after me. First at my house, then at the motel, and then I
came here to get away...but...they're following me," Eckerle babbles.
They both walk to their left. Eckerle seems to have completely broken
down, holding his gun on Mulder.

"You're not in any danger, these insects won't harm you."

"I've seen them kill two men!"Eckerle insists.

"They weren't responsible for those deaths...but they might be
responsible for ours if you continue firing your gun in a plant full
of methane gas."

"Don't you understand? The bugs...they drive me crazy!" he cries, and
the gun in his hand shakes.

~*~*~

Outside, Scully drives up next to Mulder's car and looks at Bambi.

"Let me guess...Bambi," Scully says through the window.

"Mulder told me to wait out here while he checked inside first."
Scully unbuckles her seatbelt and gets out of her car. "Should I come
along with you?"

"No...this is no place for an entomologist."

"That's what Mulder seemed to think. Actually, I think he implied I'd
be a hindrance..."

"I'm sure my husband meant that in a diplomatic way." She takes out
her gun, loads the clip and walks towards the building.

Bambi just stares after her, apparently surprised that this is the
mother of Mulder's two babies.

Mulder tries to remain calm as Eckerle watches the cockroaches crawl
over the dung heaps and chirp. "Why are these roaches making those
weird noises?"

He shrugs. "It's just the sound they make. In Madagascar, they have
roaches that hiss by blowing air through the holes in their upper
thorax."

"Really? How, how do you know so much about them?"

"I don't. That's why we shouldn't kill these, but capture them for
further study. Now, please...put the gun down."

Eckerle looks at the gun and takes a deep, jagged breath. "Have I
lost my mind?"

"No. You've just had a very stressful day that's affected your
ability to think clearly. Your judgment is a little clouded right
now."

"It is?"

Mulder nods, reaching for the gun. Eckerle points it at him and
Mulder straightens back up. "Then how do I know...that you're not a
cockroach?" He approaches him, Mulder backing away.

Scully walks through the dark facility. "Mulder? Mulder!"

Scully sighs and pulls out her cellular phone. She starts dialing. 

Mulder is still trying to calm Eckerle down. "I assure you, Doctor
Eckerle, I'm just as human as you are...if not more so." His phone
rings, sounding much like the chirping emitted by the strange
roaches. They look at it. ::Oh crap, I was sure I turned the ringer
off this time!::

"You are one of them!"

Eckerle fires at Mulder, but Mulder ducks. The bullet strikes a valve
and fire sprays out. Mulder runs off as Eckerle shoots at him again
and hits a canister, which also lights on fire. All over the
building, valves shoot out fire. Mulder runs up the stairs and
towards Scully.

"Mulder!"

"Get out, Scully! This whole place could blow!"

They run outside. Mulder looks over at Bambi. "Get down!"

She puts her head between her knees as Mulder and Scully run for
cover. They duck behind Mulder's car as the inside of the facility
explodes in fire, flames bursting out of the windows and spraying
everything with manure. Bambi looks back at the agents, who are
covered in the feces.

"Crap."

~*~*~

In the early morning, it is raining. Firemen are hard at work trying
to put out the fire when Frass walks towards them, wearing a
raincoat. The agents are sharing an umbrella.

"It's like a crematorium in there, I don't think we're going to
locate the doctor's remains."

"Or anything else, for that matter."

"Still, it's not as bad as some of the other fires we had last
night," Frass says.

"There were others?" Scully asks.

"Four, to be exact. Plus eighteen auto accidents, thirteen assault
and batteries, two stores were looted, thirty-six injuries all total,
half of them from insecticide poisoning...but, we didn't receive
reports on cockroaches or otherwise for the last couple of hours.
Maybe this town's finally come to its senses. You two ought to go
home and get some rest. You look pooped."

He walks away. Mulder smiles. Ivanov rolls up to them, an umbrella
attached to his wheelchair. Bambi, also holding an umbrella, watches
him intently.

"Agent Mulder? They told me I could locate you here. Those, uh,
segments you showed me earlier...may I examine them again?"

Mulder shrugs and reaches into his pocket. "Well, they're completely
desiccated...just like the molted exoskeleton." He hands the bag to
Ivanov.

Ivanov looks stricken. "You know, many insects don't develop wings
until their last molting stage. Perhaps whatever these things were,
they had their final molt and have flown off back to wherever they
originated."

"Yeah, that would explain everything," Scully says sarcastically. 

Mulder looks at her and is about to say something when Ivanov cuts
him off. "May I borrow this, Agent Mulder, for further study?"

"Well, I've already had a similar sample analyzed, it's nothing but
common metals. What do you hope to find from it?"

"His destiny," Bambi says.

Isn't that what Doctor Zaius said to Zira at the end of The Planet of
the Apes?" Ivanov asks.

She nods, smiling ."It's one of my favorite movies."

"Mine too. I love science fiction."

Mulder looks at them strangely.

"I'm also fascinated by your research." Bambi and the doctor start
off. "Have you ever considered programming the robots to mimic the
behavior of social insects like ants or bees?"

"As a matter of fact, I have."

 The two continue to speak as they walk off. Mulder hides a smile.

"Smart is sexy," Scully tells him.

Mulder looks at her fondly. ::No kidding.::

"Well, think of it this way, Mulder. By the time there's another
invasion of artificially-intelligent, dung-eating robotic probes from
outer space, maybe their uber-children will have devised a way to
save our planet. If ours haven't first."

"You know, I never thought I'd say this to you, Scully...but you
smell bad."

He smirks and walks away, taking the umbrella with him.

"My husband the romantic," Scully says with a sigh.

~*~*~

Washington DC

Mulder sits at his desk, typing up his report. He is also eating a
rather large piece of cake that resembles a dung heap. He proofreads
aloud, looking for mistakes, because Skinner accused him of
sloppiness recently.

" The development of our cerebral cortex has been the greatest
achievement of the evolutionary processes. Big deal. While allowing
us the thrills of intellect and the pangs of self-consciousness, it
is all too often overruled by our inner, instinctive brain, the one
that tells us to react, not reflect, to run rather than ruminate." He
takes a bite of the cake.

"Maybe we have gone as far as we can go, and the next advance,
whatever that may be, will be made by beings we create ourselves
using our own tech..." It beeps as he presses the first key to the
word. He tries it again. "Tech..." It beeps. He smacks the screen and
it beeps three times. He continues typing. "Technology, lifeforms we
can design and program not to be ultimately governed and constricted
by the rules of survival.

"Or perhaps that step forward has already been achieved on another
planet by organisms that had a billion years head start on us. If
these beings ever visited us, would we recognize what we were seeing?
And upon catching sight of us, would they react in anything but
horror at seeing such mindless, primitive, hideous creatures?"

He goes to take another piece of cake but sees a white cockroach on
the plate. He picks up a stack of files, including the X-File for the
case, number "667366," and goes to hit it. It crawls to the front of
his plate and he watches its head move, lowering the papers. It
crawls out onto the desk and he slams the papers down onto it.

Scully comes into the room at the sound. "Mulder, Ivanov and Bambi
sent you one of the early prototype of their new cockroach robot. Did
you find it okay?"

"Oops."

~*~*~

December 23rd, 1995

The house has several fire places, but Scully thinks that they're
unsafe now that Page is able to walk pretty well, and is determined
to get into everything, so the only one that is ever used is the one
at the far end of the master bedroom. Mulder is sitting in front of
it, staring into the fire he started a half hour earlier. Something
about his fixed expression makes Scully nervous, so she goes to him
and puts a hand on his left shoulder.

He looks up at her with a questioning look, which makes her feel
better because she'd been afraid he'd ignore her. "What's up?"

"That's what I came to ask you, Mulder." She tries to keep her tone
light.

"I was thinking about Pusher," he admits.

"What about him? The doctor said that he's still unconscious."

"For now. What if he wakes up? He could hurt more people. Maybe I
ought to have- " he breaks off, shaking his head.

Scully shrugs. "If he wakes up he's still dying of a brain tumor."

"I just keep thinking about what happened..." Mulder mutters. What
happened was that for the very first time he was able to save someone
other than the people he cared about. He dove at officer Collins as
he tried to set himself on fire, and he'd disrupted the man's aim
with the gasoline. None got on the man's upper body, but even as
Mulder tried to get the lighter away from him, he'd lit it. The man
would probably be okay, but he still had nasty burns all over his
legs. And later Mulder had fallen under Pusher's sway again, and
things had worked themselves out the way they had before. That's
what's got him reeling still, even a day and a half later. He was
able to change one thing, but not anything else. It scares him.

Worse, he worries about the things he has been able to change -
Luke's death, Scully's cancer, his children's births...has what he's
done been so very different from what Pusher did? Different things
motivated the manipulations, malice vs. a desire to help, but still,
he had no idea that this case would have him feeling this way.
Confused and a little guilty.

"Stop that," Scully says abruptly. "I order you to stop thinking
about our cases. We're off for the holidays, and you're going to
enjoy the next week if it kills you."

"Aww, I love it when you talk so romantically, Scully." Mulder gives
her a grin.

"I know you do, that's why I don't do it too often."

"That's not very nice." He pouts.

"You know what they say, variety keeps a marriage lively."

"I don't think they had ours in mind when they coined the phrase
'variety is the spice of life.'" He snorts.

"C'mon, Mulder, let's go torture the kids with Christmas music."
Scully tugs at his hand, trying to get him to stand.

"Ohhh...nothing says holidays like damage inflicted by parental
holiday traditions. I'll race you to the CD player."

"If I get there first we're not listening to Elvis. I want to listen
to Bing Crosby." She's three steps behind him.

"Scully, there's time enough for Elvis and Bing." Mulder calls back.

~*~*~

December 28th, 1995

The first thing they do when they have a second to breathe is to call
Guardian Angels for Little Angels to arrange for a nanny. Ever since
Teena's grim demeanor when they picked up the kids - and she rushed
them out, practically slamming the door in their faces - things have
become more tense at every hint of out-of-town assignments. So tense
that Mulder hadn't dared to ask Scully who she'd left Page and Sammy
with when she'd come to rescue him from the cockroaches. It was only
Missy's appearance at the door when they got home that clued him in.

The situation being what it is, they are very eager to have a
permanent arrangement put into place as soon as possible. They don't
really like the agency's policy of "matching" a nanny to a family
rather than have the parents interview the prospective nanny but
beggars can't be choosers. They *are* that desperate. Mulder feels
guilty that they're willing to accept anyone that the agency sends
over, but the agency has a lot of experience with this sort of thing;
the ad says they have been in business for fifteen years.

Despite the literature's - and the yellow page's ad - promise of
immediate placement, it takes time for the company to match them to
the "right" person. The agency sends a nanny to them, finally, the
twenty-eighth of December.

She seems shockingly young to Mulder- just a year out of college -
but then he has to keep reminding himself that he's years younger
than he thinks he is. Amy seems to be good with the kids, though,
despite only being in her early twenties, and by the end of her first
week it's clear that Page finds her greatly amusing.

"'me!" She shrieks as soon as the doorbell rings. Watching her
daughter reach up and scrabble for the doorknob, Scully wonders if
she should reprimand Page for trying to open the door without
permission. Ultimately she decides to shelve the lecture until the
girl can really open the door. Instead, she quickly drains her glass
of orange juice and lets the young woman in. Within two minutes Page
and Amy were chatting in the family room. Scully wanders back to the
kitchen.

Her look is a little sour when Mulder joins her, with a newly changed
Sammy in his arms. They can both hear Page giggle in the other room.
"Jealous?" he teases lightly. Sammy hiccups loudly.

"Am I jealous that someone else gets to stay home all day with my
babies? You bet your-" she bites off the last word when she notices
that Page has toddled away from the nanny and is now ignoring Amy's
call. Page is looking very interested in her parents' conversation.
"- life."

Mulder gives a helpless shrug that startles his son into kicking his
cheek. He winces, but is grateful that baby feet are small and not
capable of much force. "If you're that unhappy we could afford it if
you wanted to cut back your hours..." he trails off pensively.

"And give them another excuse for shutting us down?" Scully sighs.
"I'm fine, Mulder. I was just engaging in a moment of wishful
thinking, that's all."

"I'm sure such a boring case doesn't help you rocket up the
enthusiasm." Mulder sighs as they put on their coats.

"You, bored?" Scully stops dead, her coat hanging half off. "I never
thought I'd live to hear you say something like that."

"I know that I usually flip over bisected cows, but Scully, the magic
is gone," Mulder says with sparkling eyes.

"Don't say that, Mulder. Maybe if you go into counseling you can
regain your love of dead cows." Scully sniggers.

"Well, someone from Human Resources does keep sending me memos
explaining that our health insurance does cover counseling. If I
didn't have a healthy self-esteem, I'd worry that they were trying to
tell me something. Do you think this sort of topic can be addressed
by your average mental health professional?"

"Average? No. But I can ask some of the people I went to med school
with and see if they know of someone who works with coroners a lot."

"That'd be perfect." Mulder laughs as they head out the door.

~*~*~

Chapter Thirty-Two

February 1996

"What made you decide to write a book about an alien abduction if
you're not that interested in the subject yourself?" Scully asks,
wishing Mulder hadn't taken the day off to "spend time with the
kids," since he's the quote-unquote expert. If it were anyone else,
he'd race over, no matter where the meeting place is, and spill
whatever insanity he happened to be on that day. She bites back a
sigh as she sits across from the sprightly old man, wondering if
they'll ever have anything in common other than kids and a shared
level of curiosity.

Jose Chung raises his shoulders a little. "Actually? It was my
publisher's idea. At first I was reluctant, until I realized that I
had an opportunity here to create an entirely new literary genre...a
non-fiction science fiction. Now, see, that gimmick alone will
guarantee its landing on the best-seller list. In short, to answer
your question? Money," the blustery old man, who looks neither
Chinese nor Hispanic, but wholly Caucasian, answers her.

She raises her eyebrows. "Well, as long as you're attempting to
record the truth," she says, seeing the figure on the pedestal wobble
dangerously.

"Oh, God, no," Chung chuckles. "How could I possibly do that?"

Now she frowns. This is the Klass County case they were talking
about, right? What's so hard about getting to the truth? "What do you
mean?"

Like a college professor, including the patches-at-the-elbow jacket,
Chung paces, waving his hands. "I spent three months in Klass County
and everybody there has a different version of what truly happened.
Truth is as subjective as reality. That will help explain why when
people talk about their 'UFO experiences, they always start off with,
'well, now, I know how crazy this is going to sound...but.'"

Oh boy. "So you're here to get my version of the truth?" she says,
folding her arms. She'd like to think her truth is The Truth, but
spending too much time with Mulder is slowly eroding her inviolable
faith in what she used to think was unquestionable. But she still
thinks she's right, most of the time, and that her husband, brilliant
as he is, is a bit of a nut.

"Exactly." The old man nods with a brisk grin. Picking up a pen and
notepad, he asks, "Now, when did you first find out about the case?"

Scully purses her lips as she leans back a little. "Well...not right
away, of course. Um...not enough time had elapsed for it to be
considered a missing person's case before the girl was found the
following morning."

~*~*~

As the case unfolds, Scully wonders why it sounds fantastic even to
her own ears. That Chung is jotting things down, as if
matter-of-factly, seems the incredible thing. Then again, there are
so many times on their cases that things seem so bizarre that she's
come to naturally suppress the urge to run screaming for a psyche
ward pickup, especially when it comes to her husband.

The girl's testimony sounds like a credible, simple case of date rape
to her, which was only complicated when the suspected rapist, Harold,
visited her home. Not to mention Mulder's insistence on hypnosis,
which she never felt was a trustworthy recall method to begin with,
which leads to Chrissy telling what appears to be a classic alien
abduction, rather than rape, story. When she comes to Detective
Manners, she feels a grin dancing on the edges of her lips. "Well, of
course, he didn't actually say 'bleeped'," she says, accustomed to
censoring herself in front of the children and professional people.
"He actually said-"

Chung smiles briskly. "I'm, uh, familiar with, uh, Detective Manners'
*colorful* phraseology."

As she continues to talk about the case, she notices things she
hadn't previously realized. Neither Chrissy nor Harold seem to be
awake in the other's recollections, at least while under hypnosis.
Chrissy's scenario is more like the science fiction pulp that seems
to fill tabloids, while Harold's is closer to a POW's capture. Still,
she managed to get at the heart of the matter after Mulder's insane
questions.

"Harold...did you and Chrissy engage in consensual sexual intercourse
that night?" she'd asked.

The boy looked away. She hopes she never has to find out the hard way
about her own children, and vows to talk openly with them about sex.
"If her father finds out, I'm a dead man," Harold finally said.

Later, she tried to make Mulder see reason, if possible, and keep the
investigation on a more prurient track. Of course, as usual, he
refused to go her way. "He said it happened before the abduction. So
what if they had sex?"

God, give me strength, she'd prayed. "So we know that it wasn't an
alien who probed her," she'd said slowly, as if that would make it
more obvious. "Mulder, you've got two kids having sex before they're
mature enough to know how to handle it."

"So you're saying that all this is just a case of sexual trauma?"
he'd restated.

Duh, she'd thought. Aloud, Scully said, "It's a lot more plausible
than an alien abduction, especially in light of their contradictory
stories."

Just when she thought she'd gotten through to him, the detective shot
it all to hell. "Hey! I just got a call from some crazy bleep-head
saying he was an eyewitness to this alien abduction. Do you feel like
talking to this blank-hole?"

NO! she wanted to scream, while her partner and husband was already
leaping up in a nonverbal but clear YES! It was one of the few times
she wanted to spout more than a few "bleeps" in front of local law
enforcement.

~*~*~

They went to the bleep-head's, that is, Roky Crikenson's place, and
Scully wasn't surprised to see Roky was a freelance artist, along
with his Grizzly Adams look. "I know how crazy all this sounds, but I
don't care. What I have to say has to be said," The bearlike man said
through his beard and moustache.

Of *course* it's gonna sound crazy, even if you look normal, Scully
wanted to say, but instead snaps, "Why did you wait till now to tell
us this information? Two kids' lives may be affected by it."

He didn't seem put off by her brusqueness. "Well, it, it's bigger
than a couple of kids. It has to do with the entire planet...the
universe and who knows what else!"

Oh, no, she thought, as Mulder's eyes practically glowed. "Why don't
you tell us what happened that night?" He'd asked, ready to swallow
the big fish story, hook, line and sinker.

Roky held up a thick stack of papers. "It's all here. After seeing
what I saw that night, I rushed right home and wrote it all down.
Forty-eight hours straight. I didn't want to forget a single detail."

I'll bet, Scully thought, which is as much time as it takes for the
drugs to leave your system. Mulder, however, reached for the
document. Good thing the guy held it away, because she was just about
to smack his hand.

"But I feel that I should warn you, I don't want to be overly
dramatic here, but by looking at this, you're putting your lives in
danger."

Dammit, why'd you have to say something like that? she'd almost
yelled. "Why is that?" Mulder asked, but by the shifting of his eyes,
she could tell that he smelled something suspicious.

The pale faced man paused dramatically. Or asthmatically, she wasn't
quite sure. "Because last night, the weirdest thing happened."

As Scully tells of his MIB visitation, Chung breaks in to interject
something about fairy tales, which she doesn't think helps Roky's
sanity case much. Not like she ever did, but she's not saying that
out loud. She thought it was rather funny when he brought up the fact
that he was a Republican. Sure he is. And she believes in aliens.
Right.

He'd finally handed over the manuscript to Mulder, declaring that
he'd make himself scarce. Apparently, he *did* take the MIB's threats
seriously, enough to make him want to leave. That, or he didn't want
his natural source of glaucoma medicine to be found, she'd thought
more cynically.

~*~*~

When reading the manuscript aloud in their motel room, Mulder'd used
a Darth Vader-like tone, making her laugh. They hadn't gotten very
far, however, since he'd taken the opportunity to amuse her in other
ways. To the author, Scully tries to be diplomatic. "In short, Roky
showed signs of being what is known as a fantasy-prone personality,"
she says, shrugging helplessly.

The little man puts a hand on his heart, tilting his head like a
kindly grandfather. "Agent Scully, you are so kindhearted. He's a
nut! I just read his manifesto!"

She frowns. "How did you get a copy?" A sinking feeling tells her
that Roky, threatened though he might've been, was rather
resourceful.

Chung pulls out a familiar thick document. "One was sent to my
publishers. I don't know what was more disturbing...his description
of the inner core reincarnated souls sex orgy...or the fact that the
whole thing is written in screenplay format."

Ooh, we didn't get as far as the sex orgy, she thinks, but holds
back. "It definitely was peculiar," she admits, wondering if Mulder
kept their copy. She knows if she had it, it would be lining the
floors for Queequeg.

"Well, surely, your partner didn't believe any of it?" Chung asks,
his thick eyebrows darting over his glasses.

She wants to cover her face. "Well," she says slowly, trying to
figure out what's safe to say, " Mulder's had his share of peculiar
notions. He's not inclined to dismiss anything outright."

Of course, when she flashes back to their motel room, she
conveniently edits out a good couple of hours. "Mulder, you're nuts!"
she'd said bluntly when he'd brought up the possibility. Sometimes
she wished he'd just leave good sex alone.

"I'm not saying he isn't delusional, I'm just suggesting that his
delusional state was triggered by something he actually witnessed
that night. And the first part of his story verifies the boy's
version. In fact, the only version that doesn't add up is the
girl's."

I'm saying you're delusional, too, Scully had wanted to say. Instead,
she sighed as he picked up the phone. "Who are you calling?" she
asked, already picking up her clothes. It was going to be a long
night.

"I'm going to arrange to have her re-hypnotized," Mulder said,
sounding about as excited as when he lifted her legs over his head.
Not that she's going to tell Chung that.

Damn you, she thought, and dropped her clothes. "Re-hypnotized? What
for?" As if Chrissy wasn't spewing enough conflicting stories, you
have to muddy up the waters again!

"To see if what she remembers is really what she remembers," Mulder
says simply.

His wife hit her head against the wall repeatedly. God, she felt like
doing what that crazy alien in Harold's story, take a good long smoke
and mutter, "This is not happening," over and over.

But it did. Well, maybe not the part about the kids getting abducted
or Roky seeing some weird underground orgy, but the re-hypnosis
session. As she'd inwardly predicted, the girl changed her story yet
again, making it sound closer to Mulder's own conspiracy theories.

She'd tried to warn him afterwards, that his interference was making
the situation worse, not clearer. "Mulder, I think you and the
hypno-therapist were leading her and I think there was more
confabulation in the second version than in the first," she'd said,
looking up at him. It's not a look of love, it's of judging his
sanity, his motives.

He'd shaken his head, sure he was doing the right thing, as usual.
"No, I think you're wrong about that, Scully. But I do think you're
right about one thing, that this case might not have anything to do
with aliens."

Finally! She was ready to throw up her hands, kiss his cheeks, and
drag him home right then and there. And maybe we get to see the kids
again at a decent hour, and not prolong Mom's last-minute
grandma-grandkids bonding session. Thank you, God!

And then the good, if foul-mouthed, detective came in with another
message of hope and goodwill. "Hey, I just got a call from some crazy
blankety-blank claiming he found a real live dead alien body."

As the FBI agents looked at each other, Scully thought, Ah, bleep.

~*~*~

Blaine Faulkner's Room

Jose Chung picks up a transcript of an interview and begins reading
it to Scully.

The first thing Blaine Faulkner said to me was 'I know how crazy this
is going to sound, but...I want to be abducted by aliens.' Of course
my own response was 'Why? Whatever for?'"

Scully nods her head. It's crossed her mind more than once to wonder
if her husband has similar hidden desires.

"So the boy responded ' I hate this town. I hate...people. I just
want to be taken away to someplace where I...I don't have to worry
about finding a job.' Then we established that he was out looking for
a UFO to pick him up that night. He told me that he'd heard of some
sightings in the area. Then he went on to tell me that he'd read
every book ever written on UFOS. I found that sad."

 "That is sad. Even my husband can't claim that distinction."

"Well. The boy then said that getting his video camera would have
been a brighter idea than notifying the proper authorities. When I
asked him why he said ' Because the proper authorities showed up with
a couple of men in black.'

"Meaning Mulder and I," Scully says without a trace of humor.

"Indeed. He went on to say: One of them was disguised as a woman, but
wasn't pulling it off. Like, her hair was red but it was a little too
red, you know? And the other one...the tall, lanky one...his face was
so blank and expressionless. He didn't even seem human. I, I think he
was a mandroid. The only time he reacted was when he saw the dead
body.'"
 
 "It wasn't that girly of a yell."

"Then he said you told him' You never saw this. This didn't happen.
You tell anyone, you're a dead man.' And pushed him."

"He said I said what?" she sputters.

"When I interviewed him, he claimed you threatened him."

"That's ridiculous! I'm...and besides, we allowed him to view the
autopsy." She grimaces and presses play on a VCR, showing the whole
autopsy tape, which clearly shows that Blaine is in the room while
it's going on."

"So this is footage of the actual autopsy you performed," Chung says
with a nod towards the monitor.

Scully groans "It's so embarrassing." She holds up a case to another
video. "Dead Alien! Truth or Humbug" The title boldly proclaims. A
picture of Yappi is in the lower corner. Then she switches tapes and
Yappi appears on the screen.

"Who is that mysterious man who seems to be overseeing the
proceedings?" The camera does not show Mulder's face as it goes
around the body, then zooms in on Scully. "And what secret government
agency does this autopsy doctor work for?"

"But see? Whoever got a hold of this footage edited it in such a way
as to delete all the significant findings. The deceased wasn't an
alien at all, but Air Force Major Robert Vallee." She gives him a sad
smirk. "Of course, the air force came and claimed the body before we
were able to do anything else with it."

"Of course. That's how government types work." Chung says sagely.

"Excuse me?"

"Present company excluded, of course," the author mumbles.

 "After not recovering the tape, Mulder was heading back to the motel
and that's when his account of things gets a little...odd. He claims
that he was driving down the road when he saw the other missing
airforceman, lieutenant Jack Schaffer wandering down the road, naked
as a jay bird."

"And how did agent Mulder respond to this situation?" Chung asks.

Scully shrugs. "He stopped the car, lent the guy some clothes and
took him to a dinner to talk about how the government was faking UFO
sightings and kidnaps people and brainwashes them to uphold some sort
of charade to divert attention away from the government's true
motives. Before they could conclude their conversation, Schaffer was
dragged away by what looked to be MPs."
 
Chung raises an eyebrow. "That is odd. Because almost every day I was
there, I ate lunch at that diner and became dear friends with the
cook. He told me a story about the night you're talking about. A man
came into his place sat down, ordered sweet potato pie, identified
himself as F.B.I. Agent Mulder. He then questioned my friend,
ordering piece after piece of sweet potato pie, each time asking
another question. He ate a whole pie in that fashion, then got up and
left. My friend never saw him again. The cook never mentioned
Lieutenant Schaffer, let alone any other Air Force personnel."
 
"You seem non-nonplused by these contradictions?"

Scully's shaking her head. "The man might be a dear friend, but I
doubt the veracity of his claim. Mulder hates sweet potato pie. Not
to mention what happened when Mulder left the diner and got back to
the motel was as strange as Mulder's version of earlier events."

"Which was what?"

She sighs. "Mulder got back to our hotel room and discovered that I
wasn't in the room, but two men were. Men in black. When he drew a
gun on them and demanded to know where I was, they calmly told him
that I'd gone for some ice. Before he shot them, I returned with a
bucket of ice. Which is odd, because I hate ice in my drinks."

"Perhaps you had some other purpose in mind for the ice, involving
your partner," Chung suggests with a grin.

"I'm going to ignore the implication that we acted less than
professionally while on this case," she says coolly. "I informed him
that the men had something to tell him, and one of them said ' Some
alien encounters are hoaxes perpetrated by your government to
manipulate the public. Some of these hoaxes are intentionally
revealed to manipulate the truth-seekers who become discredited if
they disclose the deliberately absurd deception.' To which Mulder
replied 'Similar things are said about the men in black. That they
purposely dress and behave strangely so that if anyone tries to
describe an encounter with them, they come off sounding like a
lunatic.

"'I myself said nothing, and held onto the ice bucket, trying to
remember what I'd gotten it for. The man smirked at Mulder and
retorted ' I find absolutely no reason why anyone would think you
crazy if you described this meeting of ours.' Then the other man, the
one who looked like Alex Trebek, according to Mulder tried to
hypnotize Mulder. "

"Alex Trebek?! The game show host?!" Chung squawks.

"Mulder didn't say that it was Alex Trebek. It was just someone that
looked incredibly like him. I myself didn't really see the
resemblance."

"Oh..." He looks disappointed.

"Then we both went to bed, and were woken the next morning when
Detective Manners called to tell us that he'd found Mulder's bleeping
UFO."

"Mulder, of course, was livid when we got to the wreak site. The body
of Robert Vallee, a man we'd seen with our own eyes dead on an
autopsy table was carted past us. Then, even more upsettingly to
Mulder, the body of Jack Schaffer. Manners wrote the events of the
three days we'd worked with him off as an attempt to keep us from
assisting in a way that would hinder a cover up attempt."

"I'm betting that Mulder saw things differently," Chung guesses.

"He did. His claim was that they did want our help - as witnesses to
their alibi "
 
Chung glares at Scully.

"I know it probably doesn't have the sense of closure that you
want...but it has more than some of our other cases."

Chung closes his notebook with a slam, and mutters to himself as
Scully leaves the room.

~*~*~

Jose Chung's Office
The Next Day

Chung is typing on the typewriter. He hears murmuring outside and
sees a silhouette of two people in his window. He takes out his gun
and slowly makes his way to the door. He opens it to see Mulder and a
janitor talking. Mulder isn't alone.

"Agent Mulder?" Chung asks as Mulder pulls the door open. He motions
for him to come in. Mulder looks at him.

"Thanks." Mulder continues to stand in the doorway.

"What can I do for you, Agent Mulder?" Chung asks in a decidedly
uncooperative tone of voice.

"Don't write this book," Mulder replies. "You'll perform a disservice
through a field of inquiry that has always struggled for
respectability. You're a gifted writer, but no amount of talent could
describe the events that occurred in any realistic vein because they
deal with alternative realities that we're yet to comprehend. And
when presented in the wrong way, in the wrong context, the incidents
and the people involved in them can appear foolish, if not downright
psychotic."

Mulder edges his way into the room. "I also know that your publishing
house is owned by Warden White, Incorporated...a subsidiary of
MacDougall-Kesler, which makes me suspect a covert agenda for your
book on the part of the military-industrial-entertainment complex."

"Agent Mulder, this book will be written." Chung peers at Mulder, who
is still in the dim light. "What are those things?"

Mulder is holding Sammy, and Page is clinging to his leg. "Children.
I'm sure you've seen some before."

"Oh, I see, a pint sized hit squad, is it? That's a rather strange
strong-arm tactic. What is it that you plan for them to do, drool on
my manuscript and have them blur the pages? Perhaps smear them with
the contents of their pampers?"

Mulder gives him a puzzled look. "Are you on medication? If not, you
might consider it."

"I'm in perfect mental health," Chung says with a miffed sniff. "If
you don't plan for these children to be instrumental in destroying my
work, why have you brought them with you?"

The look he gives Page when she reaches for a shiny paper-weight on
his desk suggests he has little liking or experience with children.
As a good will gesture, Mulder hands Page his keys instead. She
jangles them merrily, making the writer wince - after he's snatched
up the paperweight.

Mulder considers the author's question and shrugs. "I wanted to show
you that there's more to agent Scully and me than as fodder for your
book. By turning the spotlight on us, you turn it on them, and that's
not something most parents want for their children - especially
parents who deal with potentially dangerous criminals who might see
small helpless children as an easy path towards revenge for a
perceived wrong after they're received the justice they richly
deserve. "

Chung's sallow skin pales noticeably and he swallows loudly. "I can
assure you that I have no desire to put babies in harm's way agent
Mulder."

"Then don't write this book," Mulder repeats.

"Agent Mulder, this book will be written. But perhaps we can come to
a compromise." Chung sneaks another look at Sammy, who is lying
placidly in Mulder's arms. "If you give me the last puzzle piece I
need to finish this book, I'll change names to make it impossible for
the average person to trace the story's truth to you and agent
Scully."

"What's the 'piece' that you're missing?" Mulder asks the older man.

"What really happened to those kids on that night?"

To Chung's apparent surprise, Mulder drops his son into the man's
lap. "This might take a while. If you fear drool, you'd best keep him
clear of your pages."

That said, Mulder scoops up Page, sits down, and begins telling the
man his version of the story.

~*~*~

To his surprise, Mulder is invited to watch while the author records
the audio version of his book. Mulder declines, but receives an
advanced copy in the mail several months before the printing anyway.
The only thing that accompanies it is a note saying "Even in fiction,
there is truth."

Mulder puts the last disk into the CD player and skips chapters until
the last, then presses play.

Page giggles when the older man's voice pours out of the speakers,
making Mulder wonder if his young daughter can remember the visit
they paid to the man. He doesn't think so, but his daughter keeps
surprising him, so he merely shrugs and sits on the floor with her to
listen.

"Evidence of extraterrestrial existence remains as elusive as
ever...but the skies will continue to be searched by the likes of
Darren Joyce, hoping to someday find not only proof of alien life,
but also contentment on a new world. Until then, he must be content
with his new job.

 "Others search for answers from within. York relocated to El Cajon,
California, preaching to the lost and desperate. Seeking the truth
about aliens means a perfunctory nine-to-five job to some. For
although Agent Gillian Bart is noble of spirit and pure in heart, she
remains, nevertheless, a federal employee.

"As for her partner, David Kane...that ticking timebomb of
insanity...his quest into the unknown has so warped his psyche, one
shudders to think how he receives any pleasures from life.

"Bessy Armani has come to believe her alien visitation was a message
to improve the condition of her own world, and she has devoted
herself to this goal wholeheartedly.

"Then there are those who care not about extraterrestrials, searching
for meaning in other human beings. Rare or lucky are those who find
it. For although we may not be alone in the universe, in our own
separate ways on this planet, we are all...alone."

As the CD runs out, Mulder looks down at his toddler. "Some people
really don't get it, Page. You'll see, there are people who miss the
point everywhere. I hope you get through kindergarten before you meet
any, though."

Page points two fingers at him. "Silly Daddy."

"Oh great, I see your mom has been telling stories about me too."

Sammy, who has been trapped in his baby swing looks at Mulder.
"'illy."

Mulder groans and covers his face. "Until you get the S sound down,
that doesn't count as your first word, little man." Then his face
brightens. "Can either of you say 'clever'? Say 'Clever daddy.'"
There's a noticeable silence . "Or maybe ' Misunderstood Daddy.'"

Sammy and Page just stare at him.

"I'm going to get a parrot," Mulder mumbles petulantly to himself.

~*~*~

Chapter Thirty-Three

March 1996

"Again!" Page crows as the car speeds through Rigdon, Georgia.

"Not again," Mulder groans. Maybe this is the reason why his family
didn't take too many family vacations - the kids driving the parents
nuts in the car, while the parents are attempting to drive, period.
Or perhaps he's being too hard on the kids, especially since it's not
their fault this case seemed to jump out of nowhere again, with
little notice.

"We're definitely investing in a nanny that takes care of kids and
pets and does weekends," Scully says in an I-told-you so voice from
the backseat. She's got a leash on the Pomeranian, but she's
wondering if she should invest in another for her daughter. She
stares at a sign reading "What's Bigger Than the Sky?" and wonders
what kind of missing persons case he's dragging them to.

"Good luck," Mulder sighs. "The King's definitely spinning in his
grave."

His wife raises an eyebrow, even while nursing Sammy. "You mean you
don't believe all those Elvis sightings?"

He smiles. "I want to believe." His concentration's jolted when his
daughter pounds the back of his seat. "What?"

"Again!" Page demands. "Sing 'again!"

As Mulder massacres "You Ain't Nuthin' But A Hound Dog" for the
umpteenth time, he sees a welcome sign reading "Big Blue. The
Southern Serpent. Spot Him at Heuvelmans Lake."

"Mul-DER!" Scully glares at him through the rear view mirror.

~*~*~

After the interview in the ecology lab with Doctor Farraday, who
makes even Scully look like a believer, Mulder's ready to take a
break at the souvenir shop, commune with like-minded folk. Hey, he
knows he saw it the last time, and this time, he's even getting a
camera. "We're looking for the Lake View Cabins. Flipper Road?" he
asks, putting the camera on the counter.

The old man shakes his head as he rings up the purchase. "You passed
the turnoff a few miles back. It's uh, pretty tough to find. Uh, a
map might help." He pulls out a map. Mulder reaches out for it, but
the old man holds it away. "That'll be nine-fifty, plus Uncle Sam."

"All right." Mulder sighs, wondering why every small tourist spot
believes in inflation. His daughter continues to run around, and he
finds himself saying something he never thought he would, "Page,
don't touch, okay?"

The clerk grins. "You folks here to see Big Blue?" Mulder nods, while
Scully summons a half-enthusiastic smile, hefting Sammy on to her
other hip. "Yeah, ever since those folks disappeared, everybody's
been wantin' a look-see." He chuckles as the little girl plasters her
face against the glass displays. "When I was ten years old, I was
fishing with my daddy, and I heard a...big commotion. Clear across
the lake. A wailing sound, the likes of which I had never heard
before, never heard since. My daddy told me later that a cow had
escaped from the Rockdale ranch and was drinking by the lake. Well,
old Big Blue came right up and snatched her from the bank."

Scully looks disapproving as her daughter seems to swallow the story
wholesale like her father. "That's some story," she says, and looks
outside when Queequeg barks.

"Do you believe those stories?" Mulder asks, and ignores his wife's
eye-rolling.

The old man chuckles again. "Well, a man's got to look at the
evidence, decide for himself." The dog continues to bark as a lanky
man enters the shop. "But if you want to ask a real expert, should
probably talk to Ansel here. He's out there practically every day."
He leans in and whispers conspiratorially. "It was his daddy's cow
that got eaten."

Ignoring the chitchat, the photographer puts a pile of camera films
on the table. "Can you get these developed by tomorrow, Ted? And
another five rolls while I'm in town?"

Ted grins widely. "These folks wanna take a look at Big Blue, Ansel.
See what et up those poor souls." Mulder nods while Scully pastes a
polite look on her face.

"Have you actually seen it?" Scully wonders, bouncing Sammy on her
hip.

Ansel shakes his head, but there's a determined look in his eyes.
"Not directly, no. But I aim to. Someday, I'll be in the right place
at the right time, and I will snap a shot of that monster."

As he leaves, Scully mutters to her husband, "'Not directly'? How
direct does one have to be to catch Georgia's version of Nessie?"

Mulder shrugs and grins, grabbing the camera, the map, and his
daughter while nodding his thanks to the old man. As Scully unties
the Pomeranian, he wonders idly whether Queequeg's luck will change
this time around. When the little dog continues to yap incessantly,
Mulder hopes not.

~*~*~

In the motel room that night, after the sheriff panics and shuts down
the lake, Mulder frowns. It still took three missing-slash-dead
people and a little touchy-feely on Big Blue's part to close the
water to the public, but he doubts that's gonna stop the true
believers. Or skeptics, he thinks, remembering the scientist.
Meanwhile, he and Scully are going through the late Ansel's photos,
hundreds and hundreds of them, with some dubious help from their
kids.

"Look, Daddy, monster!" Page holds up one blurry photo.

Sammy giggles and drools on another stack. Scully sighs when Mulder
says, "This could be a tooth."

"Tooth!" Page yells happily, and plows into another stack of photos.

The dog barks, and Scully looks at the dog with some hope. "It could
be a lot of things," she says, in a tone that says I doubt it. "I'm
taking Queequeg for a walk."

"Doggie!" Page squeals, and Mulder catches her before she can go off
the bed.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he says, looking up at his wife. "Safety in
numbers," he says hopefully.

Scully shakes her head. "I'm fine," she says, showing off her gun,
"you watch over the kids. And your," she smirks, "evidence."

"I love you!" Mulder says desperately, but it's no use. She blows
them a kiss and walks out the door. He looks at his kids, who are
currently making a Big Blue-sized mess out of the photos. "I love
you, too, but sometimes, you really drive me nuts!" He grabs and
tickles his daughter, who giggles loudly. Sammy scootches over, not
wanting to miss out on the fun. "Nuts, nuts, nuts!" Mulder declares,
then lifts his son over his head, blowing a raspberry on his round
tummy. Both his kids are laughing now, and he joins in, throwing the
photos up into the air.

~*~*~

It seems like mere moments later, but Scully blows through the door,
cradling the small dog in her arms. "Something's out there," she says
breathlessly, then looks around. It appears like a localized
hurricane went through their motel room. "Mulder," she says slowly,
"what happened here?"

Mulder grins, feeling only a little better that the little beast
didn't meet its demise just yet. But the night's still young. "Your
genius kids found something!" he crows, holding up a batch of photos.
Then he pauses. "What's out there?"

She sets her lips. "Something attacked Queequeg," she says, and now
everyone can see the dog's missing its tail. "What did they find in
those photos?"

"A pattern," Mulder says eagerly, "locations where the fish has been
sighted over the past several years. Look, five years ago, all the
sightings occurred in the center of the lake. But progressively the
sightings have moved closer and closer to shore, until this year,
they're practically on the shore." He picks up his jacket.

"Where are you going?" Scully asks, frowning.

"Big Blue hunting." He grins, kissing the tops of both his children's
heads, then his wife's. "Out there be monsters."

"Good luck, Mulder," Scully sighs, then looks around the room again.
"In here, be monsters, too." She looks at her children like an
interrogator to witnesses. "Now, what did you and Daddy do here when
I was gone?"

Her children smile angelically.

~*~*~

Later that night, her cell phone rings. "Scully," she says
automatically, covering her mouth to yawn, her eyes still closed.

"Hey, Scully, it's me," Mulder says. "My five hundred dollar deposit
just sank."

Scully nods sleepily. "Mulder, where are you?" she says, as Sammy
mumbles in his sleep.

"On a rock in the lake," he replies. "Don't worry, Big Blue is
keeping me company."

"That's nice," she murmurs, "what are you hoping to accomplish out
there?"

He's somewhat miffed that she isn't wide awake and worried. At the
same time, he's relieved she isn't herding the kids and the dog in
the car to chase him down, since he took the car. "You're a
scientist, why do you ask that question? I mean, finding Big Blue
would be a marvelous discovery, it could revolutionize our
evolutionary biological thinking," he says, hoping neither the
alligator nor the near-mythical monster would find him alone out
there. A splash nearby startles him and he attempts to draw his gun
without dropping the cell. So far, so good, he thinks, nearly
dropping the gun. Just to keep himself from going insane before
Farraday finds him, he babbles on. "Hey Scully, why did you name that
dog Queequeg?"

She turns over, patting the amputated dog absently on the bed. "It
was the name of the harpoonist in 'Moby Dick.' My father used to read
to me from 'Moby Dick' when I was a little girl, I called him Ahab
and he called me Starbuck. So I named my dog Queequeg. It's funny, I
just realized something," she giggles.

"That that's a weird name for a dog?" he quips, rubbing his free hand
up and down his arm.

"No, silly," she mutters, "how much you're like Ahab. You're so
consumed by your personal vengeance against life, whether it be its
inherent cruelties or mysteries, everything takes on a warped
significance to fit your megalomaniacal cosmology."

"'Megalomaniacal'?" he repeats in a mock-hurt tone. Then he grins.
"You want me, don't you?"

She snorts, feeling almost lightheaded talking about philosophical
outlooks this late at night. By the way her mind is drifting, she
knows it's later than 2 a.m. "It's the truth or a white whale. What
difference does it make? I mean, both obsessions are impossible to
capture, and trying to do so will only leave you dead along with
everyone else you bring with you. You know Mulder, you *are* Ahab,"
she finishes solemnly.

"You know, it's interesting you should say that, because I've always
wanted a peg leg," he says, staring up at the black, black night.
"It's a boyhood thing I never grew out of. I'm not being flippant,
I've given this a lot of thought. I mean, if you have a peg leg or
hooks for hands, then maybe it's enough to simply keep on living. You
know, braving facing life with your disability. But without these
things you're actually meant to make something of your life, achieve
something earn a raise, wear a necktie. So if anything I'm actually
the antithesis of Ahab, because if I did have a peg leg I'd quite
possibly be more happy and more content not to be chasing after these
creatures of the unknown."

A noise startles him, and he points his gun. Lowering his phone, he
sees it's Farraday. He's never been so relieved to see that
curmudgeonly skeptic, and he shouts his greetings.

"Mulder, what happened?" Scully asks, a little more awake.

"It's okay," he says into the phone, "it's Doctor Farraday. I'll talk
to you later, Scully."

She nods and hangs up, then rolls over, nearly smashing the
Pomeranian in the process.

~*~*~

The next morning, with Sammy fastened firmly to her back, Scully
socks her husband's arm. "You should have woken me up," she scolds
him after the sheriff leaves. The lake is still closed, but the place
is swarming with forensics, so it doesn't feel so deserted.

"I did," he protests, "don't you remember our chat about Ahab and peg
legs?" He picks up his daughter and puts her on his shoulders.
"Mommy's mean, isn't she?"

Scully glares. "You could've been killed!" she says. "By an
alligator, no less!"

Mulder shrugs, and his daughter kicks her feet into his chest. After
coughing a little, he answers, "I didn't get the white whale, or Big
Blue, or even a peg leg for that matter."

She shakes her head and puts her arms around him. "I'm just glad
you're all right," she admits, "but next time you're whale hunting,
Ahab, drag me along."

He smiles. "Does that mean we get to use Queequeg as bait next time?"
She punches his other arm, and he winces. "Ow," he mutters, rubbing
it gingerly. Seeing some of the forensic team snap crime scene shots
reminds him that he didn't even get a chance to use his camera,
having sorted through thousands of Ansel's photos sort of putting him
off on the idea. Now he pulls out his camera and says, "Well, one
photo before we hit the road?"

Scully nods gamely, and unfastens Sammy from her back so he can be in
the photo. As she's repositioning her son, Mulder tries to fasten his
daughter's feet down with his free hand while holding out the camera
at an acceptable angle. "Okay, no kicking," he says, "you're going to
make the picture shaky."

"Isn't that your favorite type?" Scully says, finally holding Sammy
in her arms. "Or am I forgetting certain anti-gravity aspects?"

He makes a face, and once Page calms down enough, he says, "Ready?
Cheeeeeeeese!" As they all chorus the dairy word, none of them see
the distant dark shape of a creature behind them moving through the
water. "Ow!" Mulder snaps the photo after Page kicks him again, which
turns out to be a blurry shot of his and Scully's torso. Other photos
are blurry images of their feet and parts of their heads, with the
only clear picture being taken by Scully with their faces squished
together for a close shot. "Who says you can't have Kodak moments
anymore?" Mulder wonders, and Scully looks like she's ready to kick
him, too.

~*~*~

Chapter Thirty-Four

Location Undisclosed
April 27th, 1996 

Propping himself up on an elbow, Krycek stares at the woman in his
bed. Sound asleep, she's untroubled by the studious looks.

It's taken months, but he's finally figured out why she seemed
familiar to him when they first meet. When he'd learned her relation
to a thorn in his ass, he'd chalked up the feeling to having
subconsciously realizing a fraternal resemblance, but the memory his
mind conjured up while drowsy from good sex pointed out that he'd
seen her before she'd seen him, and that it'd had little to do with
her sister.

The first glimpse he'd ever had of Melissa Scully was not in the
flesh, but staring back at him from a glossy page, a candid picture
taken without her knowledge in a stark setting.

It had been just two days after he'd been released from the hospital
into his 'father's' care when the old man had brought him the photo
album. Right then he'd been too sick and too weak to really
comprehend the message that the photos had been meant to convey, and
most of the conversation that had accompanied the show and tell had
fallen out of his memory, leaving only the haziest of imprints
behind; it had only been through later conversations that he'd really
gotten the gist of what the old bastard had been telling him.

But now that he thinks about it, he can remember her picture, but
only because of the smoking man's comment about it.

He'd taken the cigarette out of his mouth and pointed at the
photograph with a nicotine stained finger. "This one is the biggest
triumph of all, Alex, and it couldn't have been easier if I'd spent
months planning it. In fact, the do-gooder fool came to us, as
innocent as a fly going to tea at a spider's. They say that God
smiles on some plans, but it's things like this that make me think
that fallen angels meddle handily in the affairs of men, too."

At the time the statement made no sense to him, but now he
understands all too well. It makes him wonder if hr should wake her
and tell her, but he decides that it would be of no advantage to him,
and therefore of no purpose.

~*~*~

Washington, DC
Food Lion Parking Lot
April 28th, 1996 
7:59 p.m.

Mulder sits in his car, watching two men talk. One of the men walks
off. The other comes to his car and lets himself in, sitting on the
passenger seat. He doesn't close the door all the way, as if planning
for a quick get away.

Mulder turns and frowns at him. "Our blind date's not off to a good
start. I've been waiting here nearly half an hour. My wife will kill
me if the frozen foods defrost."

"I was asked to make sure you weren't followed," the Plain clothed
man says.

"It's just you, me, the ladies of the night and the drug dealers."

"This area's always been known for its criminal element."

"Especially when Congress is in session." Mulder's comment doesn't
elicit a smile.

Instead the man hands Mulder a newspaper with an article on the front
with the headline "Braddock Heights Man Kills Wife, Four Others."
Underneath is a picture of Joseph Patnik in a prison photo.

"What's this?"

"Something you'll want to follow."

"Follow where?"

"That's all I have for you."

"What do you mean, that's all you have for me? I get an anonymous
email to come meet you here in the middle of the night, I don't know
who you are or what you want. This is more frustrating than egg
hunting with my toddler." And Egg hunting with Page at Maggie's house
had been pretty frustrated, he remembers with a rueful look.

"I don't have any obligation or desire to give you any answers. I'm
not one of your sources," the man says coldly.

"Then you're just a messenger boy?"

"It's late, Agent Mulder. Go home, play with that toddler you
mention. Get some sleep."

"Who told you to contact me? How do I know I'm not being played?"

"I guess you don't."

But Mulder does know. He knows exactly what's going on, which gives
him an advantage over the thugs like the one sitting next to him.

The man gets out without saying another word. Mulder crumples up the
newspaper and throws it at him. "Well, then you can go ahead and
recycle that, then."

"I've been asked to tell you...you walk away from this, more people
will die."

Mulder sighs and leans back in his seat. People are going to die
either way.

~*~*~

Twenty Minutes Later

Mulder opens the front door, and walks into the house. He's carrying
two bags of groceries that obscure his vision, so he doesn't see what
bumps into his shins. He shifts the bags so he can look down, and is
surprised to see that he'd been head-butted by his son.

"Scully?" he calls when his son tries to go through his shins again.
"A little help please?"

Instead of an immediate rescue, a half-dressed Page runs into the
room. "Hi, Dad-ee."

"Uh, Hi Page." After wondering for a second where her pants were,
Mulder wonders instead if he daughter would be any help distracting
her brother from his ankle assault. He'd just decided the answer was
no when Scully comes into the room and trades him a small purple item
of clothing for the bags.

That frees up his arms so he can grab his squirmy offspring. "Mulder,
do you think you could put Page's pants back on? She escaped her
potty training lesson as soon as I got her diaper back on."

"I can see that. So, um, has Sammy been doing this crawling thing
long?" As soon as Mulder sets him on the floor, Sammy is off again.
"I'd hate to think I'd been that unobservant..."

"Just since this afternoon. Amy told me about it when I got home.
Apparently he just pulled himself onto all fours and started
crawling, just like that. I wish Page would toilet train herself that
quickly..." She sighs and blows her bangs off her forehead.

"Well, she isn't even two yet, so you have to expect that it's going
to take her a while to get the hang of it," Mulder says as he
patiently wrestles Page into her pants. She apparently prefers to
just wear a diaper and shirt, so she puts up a fuss. "Sammy's
crawling...They grow up so fast, don't they?"

Scully gives an unladylike snort. "Let's see if you think so when
it's your turn to change diapers next. Speaking of which..." She
points to Sammy. Mulder shakes his head as he lets a fully dressed
Page go and reaches for his son. But he's still smiling.

~*~*~

The Next Morning
Frederick County Psychiatric Hospital
Braddock Heights, Maryland

Joseph Patnik sits in a basically empty room, staring blankly at the
television hung from the ceiling. Mulder watches him through the
room's window.

"Sorry, I would've gotten here sooner but the Beltway was a parking
lot. What's going on?" Scully says as she joins him at the window,
peering in at the man of interest.

"Multiple homicide, a bizarre one. That's Joseph Patnik. He murdered
five people, all of whom he insists was the same man."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he claims to have been killing the same man over and over
again, that he wouldn't die."

"Does he have a history of mental illness?" Scully asks.

"Not that I know, but I only just got this case yesterday."

She gives him a sidelong glance. "Someday you're going to tell me how
you manage to get a hold of so many case files before I hear word one
of them...So, what's the X-File?"

"In Patnik's neighborhood two weeks ago, a babysitter attacked the
two children she was minding. She told the police she thought they
were wolves. Even when the kids behave like little animals, most
people don't think they actually are animals." He smiles. "But
sometimes it's hard to tell at dinner."

Scully ignores the dig at their kids' table manners." And police
found no other motive for either of these attacks?"

"Not so far, no." Just then a man in a lab coat walks up to them.

"Agent Mulder? Hi, I'm Doctor Stroman."

Mulder turns around and shakes his hand. "Doctor Stroman, this is my
partner, Special Agent Scully." :: And she's taken.:: He mentally
growls when he notes the man's appreciative glance. The message
telegraphs clearly.

Unaware of the silent exchange, Scully shakes hands with him. "You're
the physician in charge?"

"Yeah, they called me in from DC to try and develop a clear diagnosis
for the court."

"Have you?" Mulder asks abruptly.

"I wish I could say 'yes,'" the doctor admits. "This case is
puzzling."

Scully's attention is focused on the man in front of the TV. "Has he
been sedated?"

"I've got him on heavy thorazine, but it only seemed to knock him
back a notch or two."

"He should be unconscious," Scully notes.

::Hey, it didn't work on me either. Won't work on me, whatever.::
Mulder thinks. "He seems pretty manageable to me."

The doctor gives Patnik a brief, dispassionate glance. "It may be
some form of organic delusional syndrome, possibly due to chronic
metamphetamine abuse. I don't know, but, uh, he is prone to
outbursts."

"Who called you down on this case?"

"A Doctor Kahn from the, uh, Department of Social Health Services."

"Could we speak to him?"

"I don't think he's in today, but I can certainly check for you."

As if on cue Patnik screams loudly.

"Orderly!" Stroman shouts, making Mulder flinch. If he were crazy,
the doctor shouting wouldn't calm him, he decides. Nor would the
doctor running into the room.

Patnik screams again and throws over his chair, then throws over a
chair in the corner and sits down as Stroman runs in with two
orderlies, who grab him and tell him to calm down. Mulder and Scully
enter as quietly as possible to keep from upsetting him, and the
orderlies repeat their requests for calmness.

Patnik isn't having it. "No! No! No, no, no! He's here!"

The agents look up at the screen. A bright-eyed newscaster is
speaking. "...Miriskovic personally ordered the rape and murder of
thousands of innocent civilians in wartorn regions of the former
Yugoslavia. Reporting..." On the screen is a dictator named
Miriskovic. He is also the man that Patnik thought he was killing.

"That can't be a coincidence," Mulder can't help telling Scully. She
merely raises an eyebrow.

~*~*~

Joseph Patnik's House

Mulder and Scully pull up to Patnik's house. A cable van drives by as
they make their way to the house.

"You said you got this case last night, where did it come from? And
how did you get it? You said you were just going to the store."
Scully accuses.

"The came from an outside source...I was accosted in the parking lot,
so it's not like I lied to you."

"Who is this source?" Mulder does not answer, looking down at the
floor as he walks. "And Mulder, what's his interest in this case?
What does he want us to uncover?"

"I don't know."

"And you're not suspicious that we're being used?" She gives him a
look of disbelief.

"We've got dead bodies and confessed murderers. If we're being used,
it's to find out the connection. That's what I'm interested in."

When they enter the house they hear the TV on, but Mulder waves for
Scully not to pull her gun. There are two kids on the couch.

 Using his best "dad" voice, Mulder scolds the boys and sends them on
their way. They both look sheepish, so Mulder hopes that the voice
will eventually work on his own kids.
He hopes.

"Mulder." Scully is standing in front of something, but he doesn't
need to look to know what.

"Look at this, there must be hundreds of videos here."

"Anything good?" he asks with a suggestive smile.

"No, not really. Nothing you'd be interested in anyway. All I see are
recordings of cable news shows. They're all dated and in
chronological order. You know, that's what Patnik was watching at the
hospital when he went all wiggy." Mulder nods. "What if there's some
connection?"

"Between what he saw and what he recorded and what he did?"

"You're the one who's interested," she tells him, handing him a tape.

"If there is a connection, are you going to keep the kids from
watching TV?" he asks, thumbing the tape's case.

"What makes you think I'd let them watch TV even if there wasn't a
connection?"

"No TV? I'm warning you, if they grow up socially awkward, it's on
your head."

~*~*~

That Night
Washington, DC

Sometimes having kids is handy, since they got Skinner to allow them
to work at home without any protest. Mulder is watching a videotape
in fast forward of a trial. Pausing it, he joins Scully in the
kitchen so they can throw something together to eat. The tapes aren't
exactly his idea of dinner and a show, but he supposes it's better
than staying in a crummy hotel.

He decides that he wants to make a sandwich, so he rummages through
the fridge as she finishes making a salad. "I just watched thirty six
hours of Bernard Shaw and Bobbie Batista. I'm about ready to kill
somebody too," Mulder tells her.

"Grab your food, Mulder. I'm going to show you something."

In the den she puts her hand on a pile of tapes. On the floor, there
are more stacks, as well as another stack on top of the television.
Another tape is playing as well. "These tapes are dated April
nineteenth, April twenty-first and April twenty-third. Each
corresponds to a night that Patnik committed a murder."

"What's on the tapes?"

Scully sits on the couch and pulls her feet under her butt. Innocent
as the gesture is, Mulder wishes they weren't on the clock. "Among
other things, a one hour special report on the atrocities in Bosnia,
a report that prominently features Lladoslav Miriskovic."

"The same guy that started Patnik screaming in the psych ward?"

She nods. "And my guess is that once I review the tapes for the night
that Patnik killed his wife, that I'll find that report there as
well."

Mulder hides a wince at the idea of her watching more of the tapes.
"So you think that because Patnik saw this war criminal on
television, he was somehow inspired to go out and murder these
people?"

"Well, recent studies have linked violence on television to violent
behavior."

"Yeah, but those studies are based on the assumption that Americans
are just empty vessels ready to be filled with any idea or image
that's fed to them like a bunch of Pavlov dogs and go out and act on
it."

"But they believe that the causal connections are there, Mulder." Her
look suggests that she's thinking about their conversation regarding
their kids and TV.

"They, studies have also shown causal connections between cow
flatulence and the depletion of the ozone layer. What you're talking
about is pseudoscience used to make political book."

"All I'm saying is that I think it's clear that, that the programs
that Patnik watched somehow triggered his violent behavior."

"How?"

"The doctor suggested amphetamine abuse. Maybe that coupled with,
with the disturbing images he was watching, pushed him over the
edge."

"All I know is television does not make a previously sane man go out
and kill five people, thinking they're all the same guy. Not even
Must See TV could do that to you."

"Okay, then how do you explain it?" she challenges.

"I can't. Not yet." He pulls on her hand. "Turn off the TV. It's
after ten, I'm going to get some sleep. Looks like you could use some
too."

"No, I'm going to...watch the rest of these tapes. Just out of
curiosity."

"Un Uh, it's time for bed," he tells her, grabbing the remote and
turning the TV off. When she still doesn't make a move to leave the
room, he sweeps her off her feet and into his arms. "I guess we'll do
this the hard way."

"Mulder! Put me down!" she demands as he carries her out of the room.
But she's laughing. He's feeling pretty good too, because he's kept
her from watching those tapes.

 ~*~*~

Unfortunately, he doesn't count on her getting out of bed in the
middle of the night. Once he's sound asleep she crawls out of bed and
returns to the den, intent on studying the tapes more to see if
there's any validity to the theory.

A noise outside distracts her from the tapes, and she wanders to the
window. Mulder is sitting in their car, talking to someone cloaked in
shadows. The car window is cracked, so she can hear snatches of the
conversation. "No, I can't choose which one....well then, take them
both!" Mulder shouts angrily. "Yes I mean it. If that's what it takes
to keep you out of our lives, it's worth it. We can have more."

Mulder gets out of the car a minute later, and she soon hears the
back door opening, so she drifts back to the TV and continues to
watch the current tape as it fast forwards.
 
~*~*~
 
7 a.m.

When Mulder wakes up to a ringing phone, he finds himself alone in
bed, and experiences a sinking feeling. Despite the trouble he'd
taken to tuck her in last night, she'd still watched more. He knows
that even before he hangs up the phone and finds her in the den.

"I just got a call. There's been another murder."

"Yeah, I'll be right there," she says, rubbing her tired eyes. Mulder
refrains from asking if she got any sleep at all, because he's afraid
to know the answer.

"It happened just less than an hour ago. It seems to match our
pattern, a housewife gone berserk." He gives her a sidelong glance,
suddenly glad that she's not the stay-at-home mom type.

"Yeah..."

Mulder kisses her on the cheek. "Do you think you could start the
car? I forgot something up stairs. I'll be right out."

He does go upstairs, but to find Amy, not to look for anything. Amy,
who just arrived, is in the nursery, helping Page get dressed. She
looks up when he begins speaking to her. "I know this is last minute,
but do you think you could stay late tonight? Until around midnight,
unfortunately. I'll call in to work the next day so you could have
the day off."

Amy looks like she's going to say no, but the offer of an unexpected
day off sways her. "Okay, sure. As long as you don't mind me bringing
the book I'm reading so I have something to do while the kids are
sleeping."

"That's fine. Sammy will probably be up at least once before we get
home, though, " he warns. "He seems to have inherited his Dad's night
owl genes."

"Really? How old were you when you started sleeping through the
night?"

Mulder quickly does the math in his head, accounting for how things
have changed. "Thirty-two."

Amy gives him a quizzical look before chuckling. :: Don't laugh, in
my last life I was thirty-eight :: he thinks.

"So, you have a case that's going into the wee hours?"

Mulder pulls a face and splays his hands in a gesture of
helplessness. "Stakeouts."

The nanny makes a sympathetic sound. "That sounds boring yet
stressful."

"It is," he agrees, then thinks of something else. "Would you do me a
favor and not mention the stakeout to Dana? It blackens her mood
every time it comes up." Despite two years of marriage, it still
feels weird to refer to her by first name.

"Oh, no problem. A lot of people don't like thinking about work when
they're at home."

Milder smiles a little. "You excluded, I hope."

Amy's cheeks flushed. "Oh, of course. Your kids are angels."

"Yeah...they're got everyone fooled for now, but wait until they can
string more than two or three words together. Then we'll all be in
trouble."

From the look on the young woman's face, she has no idea what a safe
reaction to that would be. It gives Mulder a little jolt of guilty
pleasure to know he hasn't lost his ability to throw people off
balance.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Scully asks as he slides
onto the seat.

Her question startles him, but he recovers quickly and pats his
jacket pocket. "Yup."

~*~*~

Helen Riddock's House

Officials have swarmed the backyard and the man in the hammock, who
no longer has a beard and whose facial features are different, is now
a bloody mess on the hammock. Scully walks over and looks at the
body.

Mulder walks over to Scully, carrying an umbrella since the sky is
threatening rain.

A detective approaches them. "I just talked to the detective in
charge. The shooter is Helene Riddock, age forty-two. They took her
to lockup."

"What happened?" Scully asks Mulder. He begins to lead her to a key
spot at the scene.

"She looked out the window and claims she saw her husband in the
hammock...with a blonde." They stop as he points over to a dog
barking at them with blondish fur.

"That blonde?"

"Yeah, apparently, he was only taking a nap with his dog..." They
start walking again. "But Mrs. Riddock swears she looked out the
window and saw her husband in the hammock with a blonde woman."

They stop walking on the other side of the hammock. "So, this woman
killed her husband because she thought he was cheating on her?"

"This is not even her husband. Her husband's a long haul trucker.
He's been out of town for the last ten days. Mister John Gillness,
it's her next door neighbor. She didn't even have the right backyard.
Helene Riddock lives over here."

He points to the house and starts walking as Scully stares at the
body. Scully watches Mulder suspiciously as Mulder looks back at her.
"Scully?"

"Yeah, let's check it out."

Inside the house, the television still plays. This show is part of
the "The Home Value Network." A porcelain knickknack is being
showcased. The statue is also sitting on the table next to the couch.

"One of my favorites, he is so cute. 'The Little Traveler,' normally
a hundred and twenty nine and that's what you're going to pay at the
department stores, but here at Home Value Network..." an announcer
gushes.

Mulder picks up the porcelain statuette and starts to walk to the
back. "A thing of beauty is a joy forever...what do you think,
Scully?"

"I think television plays a large part in both of these murderers'
lives." She walks over and picks up a picture off the mantle.

"As it does in almost every American home, but television does not
equal violence. I don't care what anybody says..." He points a thumb
at the ugly statuette. "Unless you consider bad taste an act of
violence."

Scully pulls open a drawer and finds many more videotapes.  "More
tapes."

"Shucks, and if she was taping the home value channel, we won't be
able to buy any of these lovely items since the offers have expired."
Mulder walks over to her as she puts a videotape into the VCR. "Hang
on a second."

He walks to the window and looks outside. The cable van pulls up and
the technician gets out. "I'll be right back."

As Scully flips through the tape, Mulder runs out the door. He runs
towards the cable van.

"Hey! Hey!" Mulder shouts. The technician gets in the van and drives
off as Mulder runs after him. "Hey!"

Shrugging, Mulder begins to scale the pole, going after the
transmitter he knows was just installed.

Scully has come out in the meantime, and her expression isn't
pleased. "Mulder, what are you doing?"

"I'm coming down." He starts to climb down.

"What is it?"

"I found a cable trapper scrambler running from the pole into the
house."

"Maybe it's a job for Special Agent Pendrell and the SciCrime lab."

::Oh! Or maybe for batman:: Mulder jumps down onto a car. Scully
reaches for the device.

"You want it analyzed?" she asks.

"Yeah, but I'll do it."

He starts off. This time he notices that Scully is dismayed. "It
makes more sense for you to go down and interview Helene Riddock,
since you're...less abrasive when it comes to upset people. Get her
version of the story. Maybe she knows what this thing is." Scully
gives him a suspicious look. "Is there a problem with that?"
::besides you watching crazy tapes, that is.::

"No, that's, that's fine, I'm..."

"I'll stay in touch. Call you as soon as I know something," he
promises.

She nods distractedly, and he's thrilled that he'd thought to ask Amy
to stay. Things don't seem like they're going to go any smoother this
time, but as long as they're not at Maggie's he thinks he can handle
it.

~*~*~

A Few Hours Later 

Mulder is driving down the road when his phone begins to ring.
"Mulder."
 
"Where are you?" Scully asks sharply.

"I was just about to call you. Look, I'm on my way back. You may have
been right, Scully, at least partly. I think there is a foreign
signal being introduced into these people's homes through the
television set." There's silence on the other end of the line.
"Scully, are you there?"

"I'm here. One of the officers lent me an office," she tells him.
"Come here, okay."

"Okay. I think they may be running some kind of test." There's no
answer." Scully, did you hear what I just said?"
 
"So, you had it analyzed?"

"Yeah."

"I just talked to Agent Pendrell, he said that you never showed up."

"I didn't take it over to Pendrell."

"Then where were you?"

"I had the guys do it. I'd rather talk about it when we get on the
landline, okay? We've dealt with these kind of people before. We know
what they're capable of," Mulder says, deciding that she ought to
know who "the guys" are and be less wigged out.

"What was that?"

"What was what?" His surety melts away.
 
"There, that noise."

"Scully, is there something wrong?"

"Mulder...Mulder, who's listening to..." she trails off and is
silent.

::crap.:: "Scully, look, I'm going to be right there, okay? Don't go
anywhere. Don't..."
As soon as the line goes dead, he dials the number the detective gave
him for the station.

~*~*~

By some stroke of luck, it turns out that the office Scully mentioned
isn't in the station, it's in the adjoining office building that the
precinct has been renting cheaply for overflow since it was
dilapidated and unrentable to anyone else. "Here, she's in here.
Ready?" Mulder whispers to the officer who has come to assist.

The officer unlocks the door. "Ready. On the count..." Scully chain
locks the door.

"Wait..." He's not sure if he's talking to Scully or the cop.

He bangs on the door and Scully stumbles back, startled. Breathing
heavily, she walks over, picks up her gun and aims it at the door. As
the officer opens the door, he is stopped by the chain lock. Scully
fires six shots at him. She then runs the other way as Mulder kicks
open the door.

"Get back, call for backup," he growls to the officer, who runs off
to do so. Mulder looks around the disheveled motel room.

"Scully! Scully!"

He kicks open another door to find that the back door is wide open
and Scully is nowhere to be found. ::Again! At least I know where
she's going to end up.::

Knowing that it'll take a while for her to end up holed up at her
mother's, he goes through the motions talking to the gunmen. Since
he's essentially given them a busywork assignment, it's the least he
can do to at least listen to their findings.

~*~*~

Margaret Scully's House
9:30 p.m.

Mulder taps the knocker three times, waits, then does it again
louder. Having no response, he looks at the window, peers in, then
bangs the knocker four times. Margaret answers the door, but only
enough so that her face is shown.

Mulder decides to get directly to the point. "Maggie, is she here?"

"Uh, no," the older woman stammers.

"You haven't been answering your phone."

"Well, when I hear from her, I'll call you, okay?" She tries to close
the door, but Mulder holds it open.

"I need to see her."

"Fox, please, go away..."

"I can't, she's my wife," he says simply and pushes his way past her.
Maggie doesn't resist.

"Please leave Fox, please leave," she begs.

Scully steps out from behind the wall in the main room, aiming her
gun at Mulder. Mulder turns around.

"Dana, put down the gun!" her mother shouts.

"Scully?" he asks uncertainly. Margaret walks over and stands next to
Mulder, shielding him. Mulder wants to cry.

"I told you, Mom. He's done it, Mom. He's here to gloat."

"Gloat about what?" His puzzlement is genuine, because he has no idea
what she's talking about. The last time around she thought he was
going to kill her, but that doesn't seem to be the case now.

"Put it down, Dana," Maggie urges.

"He's given away our babies," Scully spits out. "Just like his
bastard father did to his sister."

"Scully?" He takes a step forward.

"Just step back," she warns. "I could kill you for this, even though
I'll get them back, damn you."

"Sammy and Page are with Amy, at home. I asked her to stay late."

"Lies." She cocks the hammer of her gun and Mulder nearly wets
himself. She seems even more determined now,  mother's instinct he
supposes.

Margaret steps up next to Mulder. "Dana, you're not yourself. He's
telling you the truth."

"It's not the truth, Mom. He's lied to me from the beginning."

Mulder shakes his head slightly. "I haven't-"

"He's just used me for leverage. Giving him the babies will keep him
safe, but they'll hurt them."

"I could never do that to them, Scully. I love them. I love you. I'd
rather die than have any harm come to any of you," Mulder pleads. The
accusation that he's used her comes to close to the truth, even
though he believes he's acted in her best interest, and his mind
shrinks away from it. He's never even contemplated being found out
before.

Scully looks like she is about to cry. "I heard you say it, Mulder.
That they could have them both and we could have more, just as long
as they left you alone. You used them as pawns in a game."

"That's not true, Dana. I'm sure it's not," Maggie protests. 

"It is."

Margaret steps in front of Mulder. "I want you to listen to me..."

"Mom, just get out of the way!"

"You trust me, don't you?" Scully is fighting back tears, her gun
trained on her mother now. "You know that I would never hurt you.
That I would never let anybody hurt you. That's why you came here,
isn't it? You're safe here. Put the gun down, Dana. I'd never let
anyone do anything bad to my grandchildren, and I know there own
father would never do something like that. Deep down, you know it
too."

Scully stares at them, very distraught. Margaret steps towards her
daughter. "Put it down. Put the gun down, Dana. Put it down."

Scully points her gun away as she and her mother press their
foreheads against one another. Scully falls into her mother's arms,
sobbing. Margaret and Scully kneel down to the floor as Scully cries.

 Looking over her daughter's shoulder, Maggie speaks to Mulder. "Call
your nanny and get her to give Page the phone. Then she'll know that
I'm right."

White-faced, Mulder pulls his cell phone out and does as he's told.

~*~*~

Northeast Georgetown Medical Center 
 May 2nd, 1996 
1:43 p.m. 

Mulder gets to the door to a hospital room, knocks and opens it.
Maggie smiles encouragingly as he enters the room. He puts his hands
up as if having a gun pointed at him and smiles. Margaret walks past
him, smiling.

On the TV a newscaster drones "...runway 12H. The runway generally
reserved for..."

Mulder turns off the television and sits down in a chair next to
Scully. "How you feeling?" he asks. Maggie asked him not to come the
first day that she was in the hospital, and he agreed, even though he
didn't want to. Page and Sammy had already been by with Maggie for a
brief visit to reassure her.

"Ashamed. I was so sure, Mulder. I saw things and I heard things,
and...it was just like the world was turned upside down. Everybody
was out to get me. "

"Now you know how I feel most of the time."

"I thought you gave them our children."

Mulder nods. "I'm not surprised."

She gives him a confused look. I did some checking. Joseph Patnik
thought he was murdering a Bosnian war criminal, a man the media
described as a modern-day Hitler. It turns out both Patnik's parents
were Holocaust survivors."

"I'm not following."

"Helen Riddock was scared her husband was going to be unfaithful to
her. You see a pattern developing here? What if this, this video
signal somehow turned these people's anxieties into some kind of
dementia? Yeah, a, a virtual reality of their own worst nightmares?"

"Like me thinking that you'd betray our family. I was so far gone,
Mulder, I thought that you had gone to the other side.'

"What do you mean?"

"That Cancer Man, the man who smokes all those cigarettes, I was sure
that I saw the two of you sitting in your car out in the yard. You
were arguing with him, about Page and Sammy. I thought you were going
to give him one of the kids. It's a crazy idea now, but it didn't
seem so then."

"Ah, maybe not so crazy."

"What do you mean? You're not your father, you'd never give our kids
away. "

"Well, somebody's behind this, we just don't know who."

"You think it could be him?"

"I don't know." They look at each other for a second.

"Why don't you try to get some rest?" He leans down and kisses her
cheek. "I'll bring the kids by tonight."

~*~*~

He stands and walks out. Looking around outside the room, he sees
Doctor Lorenz at the nurse's desk and starts over.

"Doctor Lorenz?"

"Agent Mulder. I was just about to check in on your partner."

"My wife," he corrects. "What, uh, course of treatment have you
outlined for her?"

"At this point, nothing more than bed rest. We still haven't been
able to determine what brought this on. As far as I can tell, there's
nothing medically wrong with her."

"That didn't seem to be the case the night before last."

"No, it wasn't," the doctor agrees. "It's got me puzzled. Her M.R.I.
was negative, but the spinal tap revealed high levels of serotonin in
her brain."

"You think that would account for her strange behavior?"

"High serotonin levels have been associated with mania. But the good
news is, as of this afternoon, her levels are pretty much back to
normal."

She smiles and walks past him. Mulder thinks for a second, then turns
around. "Doctor Lorenz- " She stops and turns around. "Would you have
made a diagnosis of amphetamine abuse for someone in Agent Scully's
condition?"

"Not given her serotonin levels, no. That wouldn't make any sense."

"Thank you." Mulder turns and starts walking as he pulls out his
cellular, then dials. "Braddock Heights. Yeah, I need the number for
Frederick County Psychiatric Hospital, please."

He stops walking when a voice answers, "Ward three."

"Yeah, this is Fox Mulder with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I
need to talk to Doctor Stroman, please."

"I'm sorry, Doctor Stroman's no longer here. I believe he's returned
to Washington."

::Once a rat, always a rat.::
 
On the way to the meeting with X and the murders, Mulder can't but
help compare the good Doctor to Lucy Householder. Some people choose
the same actions all over again out of a sense of desperation and
others do it for personal gain. Knowing that the man he's about to
find dead falls into the later category makes his death a little less
galling an hour later.

~*~*~
 
Hoover Building
Skinner's Office
May 10th, 1996

Mulder sits across from Skinner while the other man is reading over a
document.

"This is your final report, Agent Mulder?"

"Yes, sir."

"I see more questions than I do answers. You don't know who
manufactured the device you found or what its purpose was."

"No, sir."

Scully knocks on the door and walks in.

"Agent Scully, welcome back," Skinner greets her.

She walks over to the desk. "I'm sorry I'm late, I just got back from
the document section."

"What did you find out about the two men Mulder found executed?"

"The cable company employee had no criminal record. In fact, there
was nothing remarkable about him whatsoever. We found a medical
license under the name 'Doctor Stroman' in Falls Church, Virginia. He
died in 1978."

"What about their killer?"

Scully shrugs and is about to speak when Mulder cuts her off. "He
remains an unknown subject."

Skinner looks at him, slightly suspicious of Mulder's answer. Neither
agent chooses to elaborate.

~*~*~

Chapter Thirty-Five
"Hex & The City"

June 14th, 1996

Mulder and Scully barely have had time to put their things down when
Kimberly calls and tells them that the ad wants to see them
immediately. They exchange a look as they head for the door, both
wondering if they've done something to annoy their boss.

"Good. You're finally in." Skinner's gruff tone increases their
apprehension, especially Mulder's. ::I don't remember doing anything
dumb last time around.::

"I need you to pack when you get home this evening and to arrange for
childcare. You're going to be catching a flight to New Orleans on
Sunday night and will be returning on Saturday afternoon."

"What's the case?" Scully asks.

"No case."

"I don't understand."

Skinner steeples his hands. "I'm sure it's not something that you're
aware of, but the ADs have a monthly poker game. We had a game last
week, and I won a trip to New Orleans airfare and hotel for two
included - which is why I'm sending you."

"But sir, why wouldn't you take the trip yourself?"

"I'm not a leisure travel type of person...I saw enough exotic
locales in the service to last a lifetime. The two of you are good
agents, but other than maternity leave, it's been years since either
of you took any time off. Even good agents get burned out, and I
can't afford for that to happen in this office, so consider this
vacation to be mandatory."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

"Go and have a good time. That's an order." Skinner's voice is still
gruff, but there's a glint of humor in his eyes.

As they head back to the basement, Mulder casts a sidelong glance at
his wife. He expects that as soon as they get behind closed doors she
spout out a list of reasons why they can't leave for a week: Sammy is
teething, the evil little dog needs to get his shots, she doesn't
want to impose on her mother-

"Skinner is a nice man," she tells him instead with a dreamy look as
soon as the door clicks shut.

"Huh?"

"It was so nice of him to think of sending us on a romantic getaway."

Mulder smirks. "I doubt that he had romance in mind. He was probably
hoping that this will keep us from snapping and shooting up the
Hoover building someday. "

"Even so, it's still really nice. This trip is going to be great."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. Even if you insist that we go looking for famous ghosts."

"Nope, I will only do what you want. I get my fill of ghosts at
home."

"Funny, I hope that's not the only of your wants completely fulfilled
at home," Scully says archly.

"You tease." Mulder's eyes widen in appreciation. "You know that the
answer to that is a resounding yes."

"I do know, but it's nice to hear you say it."

Mulder gives her a hopeful look. "Do you suppose we could stop on the
way home and shop for some sexy swimwear?"

"Okay, but if you want to pick out my suit, I get to pick out yours."

Mulder hesitates for a moment, visions of revealing Speedos in his
head. "You drive a hard bargain, but you've got a deal." Smiling to
himself, he wonders what adventures this unexpected trip will bring.

~*~*~

June 17th, 1996

"What's the matter, Scully?" Mulder asks. It's been a perfect day,
hell, it's been a perfect everything so far in New Orleans. After
waking up well rested from an overnight flight, they decided to do
the tourist thing on this gorgeous day, first visiting the colorful
French Quarters, now walking down a loud but not too crowded Bourbon
Street, and working up an appetite for some seriously unhealthy
crawdads and po'boys. On such a pleasant, balmy day, he can't
understand why the love of his life has such a pensive expression on
her face.

"You're going to think it's silly," she says, and it's apparent she
thinks so.

"No, I won't," he argues, "you know I'll believe anything."

"That's what I'm afraid of," she shoots back, then sighs, stopping on
the sidewalk. "I miss our kids. I miss working. I," she smiles a
little, "I even miss our haunted house."

He blinks, then frowns, and checks her temperature by placing the
back of his hand on her forehead. She swats it away, and he chuckles.
"Hey, I feel a little weird leaving everyone behind, too. But it's
either take a sanity break now, or the Bureau will force us away from
chasing little green men."

"Gray," she corrects him, and he grins. Pouting, she says, "You made
me do that."

He kisses her forehead and holds her hand. "I know. But remember, the
kids are hanging out with your mom and brother Charlie's family, so
they're in good hands. The bills have all been paid for and the
ghosts are guarding the house. Heck, even the cases have slowed to a
trickle that I can't even find anything worthwhile in the tabloids."
He smiles as she shakes her head. "Consider this a well deserved
vacation, G-woman."

Scully looks up at him with those amazing green-blue eyes. "Does that
mean, God forbid, that if anything like an X-File rears its ugly
head, you'll stay away?"

Mulder blinks. "Well, I don't know. If it had anything to do with
supernatural attacks on adult videos stores, that could be a hard
sell," and winces as she punches him.

~*~*~

The two of them enjoy a leisurely dinner at one of the many venues
promising great edibles and great entertainment. So far, the music is
a sassy, easy jazz ensemble providing tasty music that sticks to the
diners' ears as the delicious food sticks to their stomachs.

"Mmm, this is nice," Scully sighs, leaning against Mulder in the dim
lighting. "No Mardi Gras craziness, no buying voodoo charms," she
gives him a sidelong look as the sax player wails onstage, "And no
case or kids to keep us up all night."

Mulder smirks, wrapping his arms around her. "You mean we won't be up
all night doing something else?"

She returns the smirk. "Only if you behave yourself," she says,
"paying the bill would be nice."

He puts a hand to his heart. "You wound me, Scully," he says,
mock-hurt, " As a gentleman, of course I'd treat my wife to dinner."

"Would you?" she asks, raising that infamous eyebrow. "Even without
sex?"

He smiles, he can't help it. "Well, that's a really good bonus, but I
promise," he says, raising his hand like an Indian Scout, "for the
rest of this trip, I'm footing the bill."

Likewise, she raises her hand like a Girl Scout. "Then I promise,"
she says in a sultry voice low enough for only his ears, her hands
doing things to him under the table that he'd never dream her capable
of doing in public, "to be great in bed for the rest of this trip."

Mulder suddenly raises his head, looking for a waiter. "Check,
please!"

~*~*~

Apparently, they're not the only couple infatuated with the sultry
surroundings in the sinfully decadent mansion-turned-hotel they're
staying in. However, neither FBI agent takes a second look at their
hotel, preferring to practically tear each other's clothes off while
trying to kiss and fondle the other as best they can. They barely
make it to the bed as they continue to strip each other down without
falling over, panting eagerly, hungrily for the main course. Scully
makes good on her promise, and then some, causing Mulder to forget
entirely about a little something called "protection" until after the
fact. Groggily, he asks, "Scully?"

"Mm," she says, absently kissing his chest while her hands play over
his hip.

God, he really, really hates to ask. "Are you on the pill?"

She stops, and he swallows a sigh. "No." She puts a finger on his
lips. "Just because we've had sex doesn't guarantee a kid. Neither
does a condom guarantee no kid," she reminds him.

He nods, feeling a slight twinge of guilt in that complicit act.
"Well, yeah," he starts, but her finger returns to his lips.

"If it makes you feel any better, I've got some," she says, "unless
you want to sleep." Her eyes, her voice, even her wandering hands say
she's far from sleep.

Mulder smiles widely, his hands reclaiming her body. "No, these days,
a redhead is causing my insomnia," and she giggles as he shows her
just how awake he is.

~*~*~

In the morning, Mulder flips on the TV out of boredom, his thumb
first hitting "mute" before the "up" button as he goes through
channel after channel, not wanting to wake his wife. It does feel
weird to be awake and not feeding any little ones, or changing them,
or poring over a casefile while keeping evidence out of Page and
Sammy's reach. He glances over at the sleeping redhead on the bed.
Well, one thing hasn't changed, waking up to a drop-dead gorgeous
naked woman in the morning, and grins.

Tossing aside the remote, he decides the morning is too good not to
share, even if he may risk the wrath of Scully. Besides, she's
looking too damn sexy half-covered under the satin sheets, and
there's no kids around to interrupt. Tentatively, he kisses her jaw,
then works down her neck, his fingers stroking her silken skin on her
favorite spots. As she moans, he gets bolder, and bigger, but waits
until she's awake before even approaching the coveted zone.

"Mm, Mulder," she sighs, and smiles, her eyes opening sleepily. "Good
morning."

"It will be." He smiles back, and continues to bring her slowly but
surely into alertness. It isn't long before she takes control and
thrusts her hips against his, demanding that he give her what she
wants. "Scully," he groans, diving into her unbearable sweetness. As
he strokes her, inside and out, she cries out, wanting more, and he
gives it to her. A random thought hits him, What if this passion
comes from some other source, but soon banishes it from his mind as
the redhead beneath him demands more of him with her fingers clawing
his back.

As he fills her with unimaginable pleasure, Scully isn't thinking of
anything except this talented and imaginative wake-up call. "Mulder!"
she gasps, shuddering as she hits her climax.

"Oh!" he breathes, also releasing the pent-up tension inside, and
can't help but cover her open mouth with his own, despite their
mutual morning breath. Neither says anything for a while, being too
preoccupied with their mutual orgasms and French kissing.

As their hands begin exploring each other, ready for another tryst,
Scully breaks away, hating to do so. "Mulder, look!" she says,
pointing at the TV.

Surprised and a little disappointed, he gets off of her and turns
around, then hits the "mute" button again. Onscreen, the unseen
reporter declares, "Local authorities are baffled by these recent
events." Footage of ritualistic symbols in blood are scattered
throughout what appears to be the inside of a crack house, and
chickens walk over several pale corpses. "Again, we apologize for
such graphic images on the morning show, but if anyone has any clues
as to who perpetrated such a grisly crime, please call the police or
Crimestoppers at-," Mulder clicks the TV off.

"Sounds like an X-File to me," Scully says, resigned.

"Yeah," Mulder says, wondering if he's being disloyal to his wife
getting almost as excited over a prospective case as he is in bed
with her.

~*~*~

Outside, it looks like a crack house, even if the official story
describes it as an abandoned building. The two agents look at each
other, their hands briefly on where their weapons are hiding, before
walking towards the eye of a small human tornado. A tall,
bespectacled man lets them past the crime scene tape, but stops them
at the doorway. "I didn't think this place would be crawling with
feds," Detective Jeremy Harris says, shaking Mulder's and Scully's
hands.

"Crawling?" Mulder repeats, as Scully gives the forensic team ample
berth to work in. He can't see anyone else from the FBI, unless they
all look like cops.

Well, save one. "Agent Monica Reyes, these are Special Agents Mulder
and Scully," Detective Harris says, tapping the shoulder of a tall
brunette.

She turns around, and her smile is warm, even in a grisly scene as
this. It unnerves Scully, but to Mulder, the familiarity is welcome
as they shake her hand. "I didn't realize this would warrant
out-of-state attention this quickly." Reyes smiles pleasantly, her
large dark eyes sizing them up just as fast.

"We were," Scully starts, but Mulder interrupts, "We specialize in
the unexplained."

"Good," Reyes says, and turns her attention back to the crime scene.
"What I don't understand is why someone would sacrifice people and
not the animals. I mean, these days, everything is very above-board,
so much so that a lot of the local churches don't want to jeopardize
their nonprofit status in ritualistic sacrifice, much less human."

Mulder is peering at one of the walls with a flashlight. "And these
symbols have nothing to do with sacrifice. These are pretty much
benign."

Reyes nods, surprised and impressed. "Yeah, everything except this."
She points down with her own flashlight to one of the bodies not yet
carted away. "It appears the killer or killers were very by-the-book
in terms of voudoun symbolism except here." The pentagram carved into
the dead man's chest is apparent to the living.

"I'd like to autopsy the bodies," Scully says, already following the
bodies out the door.

The tall woman waves her hand. "Be my guest," she says, and smiles
back at Mulder. "I'd love to see how specialists in the unexplained
handles this."

~*~*~

"Mulder, this is weird," Scully says a couple hours later over the
phone.

"Define 'weird'," Mulder says, having just questioned the owners of
the roaming chickens and wondering if the X-Files should relocate.

"Well, I was looking for traces of bufotoxin, like that last case of
voodoo we dealt with, but there's nothing on the tox screens for
anything like it. So, no zombies, no bad voodoo," she says, taking
off the wraparound glasses.

"That's good, isn't it?" he asks, getting into his car.

"Kind of. All the wounds on each victim were in the same places, so
it appears some kind of ritual was taking place, but that's not what
killed them."

"No?" Mulder wonders, intrigued.

"No," she says heavily, "And here's the weird part. Agent Reyes has a
theory that whoever killed these men did it by transferring their
souls rather than by knifing them." Scully hears nothing for a
moment, then says, " Mulder? Are you sure you don't have another
sister in New Orleans?"

He laughs. Sounds like Reyes, all right. "Maybe she's right," he
says, "but I'm pretty sure I don't have another sister." He pauses.
"Unless you think I should call my parents and check."

"No, Mulder," she sighs, "I guess you're not the only agent with
crazy theories."

"Makes me look sane in comparison, doesn't it?" he asks. There's
nothing but silence at the end of the line, and then disconnection.
He grins, putting away his cell phone. Who knows, maybe Reyes could
join the team earlier and give him and Scully more vacation time.
Yeah, right, and aliens will fly out of his butt.

~*~*~

The next morning, Mulder grabs his cell phone, his hand automatically
hitting "answer" As he says, half-awake, "Mulder."

"Agent Mulder," Reyes' warm voice says, "hope I didn't wake you."

"What happened?" he asks, sitting up as Scully mumbles in her sleep.

"I think those autopsies were a mistake," she says.

"Why?" His curiosity's piqued now.

"I believe the souls of those bodies, whom we thought were dead, are
possessing the chickens."

"What?" He squawks so loudly that Scully mutters herself awake.

"You and your wife had better come down here." She hangs up, and
Mulder groans.

"Mulder?" Scully says sleepily. "What's wrong?"

"Better get dressed." He sighs. "It's going to be a long day."

The redhead looks at him with crusty eyes, then nods. She's learned
to trust his judgment on this part of their cases, if nothing else.

Mulder watches his wife go to the bathroom by herself, and sighs
longingly. So much for their vacation, making sweet sweet love
morning, noon and night. Well, he'd like to think so, at least.

~*~*~

"So, what do you think?" The tall brunette asks the husband-and-wife
team of agents. They are all standing in the barn, surrounded by
poultry, feed, and dirt.

Scully, looking amazingly together despite being awake only half an
hour before, is nonplussed. "It looks like chicken scratch."

Reyes' large dark eyes look from one agent to the other. "It doesn't
look like something significant?"

Scully's eyebrows go up. "Like what?"

"Like," Reyes leans over and motions with her hand, "writing."

"Chicken scratch, writing, I get it." Mulder smirks.

Reyes straightens up and sighs, as if the brightest student in the
class has turned out to be a dimwit. "No, as in writing writing." She
smiles encouragingly, as if to help him along.

Mulder squints, then hunkers down to squat among the clucking
chickens. "Nope, still don't see it."

"Okay, maybe the angle's wrong," she says, and repositions Mulder and
Scully. Then she stands at the far side of the barn, as if to place
herself impartially. "See? S. O. S."

They both make faces trying to see what she seems to. "Maybe it's an
optical illusion with red and green colored corn," Mulder murmurs,
"I'm colorblind in one eye."

Scully frowns up at him. "How did you pass the eye exam?" she asks in
an undertone.

He grins down at her. "Slept with the examiner- ow!" Rubbing his arm,
smiling innocently at the questioning Reyes, he answers in a low
tone, "I made my good eye do double duty, jeez." In a louder voice,
he says, "Sorry, we don't see it."

"Are you certain the farmers haven't tried to train their poultry?"
Scully folds her arms.

The brunette shakes her head. "They're nice people, if a little
nutty."

"They're not the only ones," Scully murmurs, her gaze going from the
tall woman to her husband. She still thinks they're related, but
perhaps only in a mental institution kind of way.

"They have motive and opportunity," Mulder says, "And their business
is poultry."

"You'd think so," Reyes says, "They do better with their cattle." She
points outside to another barn and grassy acres beyond.

~*~*~

A stakeout, however, reveals the truth, and even Reyes shakes her
head. "I can't believe it," she says, then laughs while the cops lead
the farmers away in handcuffs. "That's not something I say very
often."

"Sounds familiar," Scully grunts, looking at her husband.

He's still looking at the barn. "They take bird-brain to a whole new
level," he says reverently. "To think the chickens were the ones
responsible for the farm's success."

"Most people often underestimate animal intelligence," Scully
counters, "numerous species have been trained to perform hundreds of
tasks, bred for specific traits like hunting, performing, racing.
Mulder, the first astronauts were monkeys, and they have
communication skills, too." She remembers their case at the zoo a bit
sadly.

"Yeah, but those were dogs, horses, four-legged types, and monkeys
are even closer to us on the evolutionary scale, Scully," Mulder
crows, "but these are chickens! Chickens! Do you know what this
means?"

"No," Scully says flatly.

"Another reason for scientists to mess around with poultry?" Reyes
asks. "They're already altering genes to make them healthier for
human consumption, I wouldn't be surprised if that kind of tinkering
with nature didn't also carry over some added benefits to the
chickens themselves."

Mulder is taken aback, as if his own argument has been stolen. Dang,
I keep forgetting she graduated with honors from a prestigious
college, he thinks, I wonder how many people she's arrested who
thought she was a complete flake. Then he nods. "Although usually
genetic engineering brings very little positive benefits for those
being manipulated."

"Genetic manipulation is one thing," Scully says, "running a farm is
another. And," she pauses, as the barn seems to have gone silent, "so
is murder. We still haven't figured out who murdered those people in
that abandoned house."

Reyes opens her mouth, but her cell phone rings, and she smiles a
brief apology as she answers it. She walks off, muttering into the
phone and, in the semi-darkness, appears to be talking to herself.

Mulder takes the time to murmur into his wife's ear, "So, do dangling
loose ends get you all hot and bothered?"

Scully glances down at the bulge in his pants. "That's a new
nickname."

As they share knowing smiles, Agent Reyes joins them. "That was Ben
Lee, one of the neighbors of the quote-unquote abandoned house.
Apparently, he was getting tired of waiting for the cops to shut down
the illegal activities going on next door and took matters into his
own hands. He turned himself in not too long ago." She sighs. "I was
so close."

"Cheer up," Mulder says, "some of our cases don't have such tidy
answers."

Scully looks at him. "I never would've guessed genetically modified
chickens, Mulder."

"I was hoping for more alien experimentation on animals, but this is
cool, too," he agrees as she rolls her eyes. "And the bad guy turned
himself in. If that isn't a happy ending, I don't know what is."

Scully looks at her husband, then at the patient, still-smiling
agent. "You know, if you ever get bored, you can always apply for an
opening in our division," she says, wondering why she's offering,
proffering a hand.

Mulder looks similarly surprised, but smiles as Reyes takes his
wife's hand and shakes it firmly. "Is that a hint for me to clean up
the office, dear?" He, too, shakes Reyes' hand.

Scully snorts. "I wish. No, it would be nice having more help, we
might actually have a real vacation for once."

"Well, thanks for taking the time out on your vacation to help out."
Reyes smiles, "And if you ever think of coming over during Mardi
Gras, look me up."

"Will do." Scully smiles back, and the two women wave at each other
before Reyes walks off. "I like her, Mulder. She's a little weird,
but I like her."

"You're a little weird, but I like you, too," Mulder murmurs,
chuckling as she makes a face.

~*~*~

"I'm bushed," Scully sighs as they stumble into their room,
practically zombies. It's been a long day and a long night, and now,
as usual, everything from their unofficial case is hitting her at
once. She yawns and stretches, then flops down on the bed.

Mulder flops down on the bed beside her, shaking her and the bed
considerably. "You wanna shower first, or should I?" he mumbles.

"You first," she says, "I think I'll drown myself in a bath."

"Okay," he says, stripping off and wandering into the bathroom.

Not ten minutes later, he steps out, feeling somewhat more awake in
his sweatpants and t-shirt, only to see his wife is sprawled on the
bed, her eyes fluttering on the edges of sleep. "That's not fair," he
grumbles, as she manages to take most of the space on the bed,
despite her small size. Feeling more than a little selfish, he nudges
his wife. "Scoot over, Scully," he says, "come on."

Jostled back into wakefulness, she blinks. "Is it my turn?" She
yawns, tugging off her blouse.

"Uh, yeah," he says, following her to the bathroom. Once inside, he
turns the water taps on, then pours in some of that bubbly stuff she
seems to like. When the tub is reasonably filled with water and
bubbles, he turns to his wife, who is now very, very naked. "Are you
awake, Scully?" he asks, half-hoping she says no.

"I'm fine." She smiles, stepping into the tub, "thanks."

He drinks in the sight of his partner and wife, smiling as a blush
creeps up her face. "I know you are," he says, stripping off his
clothes.

"Mulder?" she asks, her quickening heartbeat telling her the answer,
even as she sinks into the concealing bubbles.

"I'm wide awake, too," he says, joining her in the tub as the water
sloshes over the sides.

"Mulder, you're splashing," she tries to scold him, " Mulder, come
on, oh!" She gasps as her hands come in contact with something that
definitely isn't the soap, and she giggles. "Mind if I play with this
for a while?"

His eyes roll upwards and he moans as she strokes him expertly,
kissing his Adam's apple. "Don't stop," he manages to groan, even as
his hands blindly explore her wet body. As she guides him to the
verge of release, lightly biting at his nipples, he pulls her to him,
"Scully, please."

She accommodates him, lifting her hips onto his and hisses a little
as he fills her so completely, thrust by unbearably delicious thrust.
"Oh, Mulder," she gasps, her eyes and mouth wide, even as she
clenches his eager manhood like a fist. "Oh!"

His hands firmly on her ass, he kisses that wide open mouth, probing
it with his tongue. Finally, just as he's about to explode from
holding back, he feels her shudder against him, and he comes in a
rush, causing another minor orgasm. As he pulls away, he hears her
breathing just as ragged as he is, and he chuckles.

"What?" she asks, smiling.

"Sometimes I keep forgetting you're as horny as me," he says,
laughing when she splashes frothy bubbles at him. "Thanks for
reminding me."

"As horny as I am," she corrects him primly, even as her body
language is less than prim, the bubbles sliding off her glistening
skin and revealing creamy perfection. In fact, if he doesn't know any
better, she's looking downright predatory, leaning over him as if she
might get kinky and bite his neck or something. Whatever she's got
planned, he's got a hunch they'll enjoy it, judging by that gleam in
her eyes.

And for the next several hours, in and out of the tub, Scully proves
his hunch correct.

~*~*~

July 4, 1996
11:43 a.m.

"Okay, about where in Central Park did your brother say?" Mulder
squints haplessly against the bright sunlight. It's a gorgeous summer
day in New York, which means that all the vendors are swarming the
place like flies, and the humidity combined with heat produces
nothing less than brain damage in most people. He can see evidence of
this brain damage by the drooping baggy pants the young men are
wearing, and the frightening amount of tattoos some young women are
sporting on their now-bare skin.

He blinks when someone's snapping their fingers at him. "Mulder,"
Scully says, carrying Sammy in front, "you're not babe-watching, are
you?"

"Heck, no," he says in a very unconvincing fashion, and she sighs.
Page, riding piggyback on him, sighs also. "Hey, hey," he says,
leaning towards Scully, "I'm a heterosexual male, I'm not blind, but
I loooooove my wife and kids." He beams winningly at his redheaded
wife, who merely shakes her head, but he does catch a small smile
beginning to tug at the corners of her mouth.

"As I was saying," she says, walking ahead of him, "while you were,
um, distracted, Charlie said he'd meet us by the tree facing a
statue."

"And that narrows it down to maybe fifty spots," Mulder drones,
shifting Page a little as he readjusts the diaper bag in one hand and
the picnic basket in the other. He still can't believe they have a
picnic basket. He also can't believe Scully didn't bean him for
teaching Page to say "pic-a-nic basket" like Yogi Bear. "You know,
for a guy who works on satellites, you'd think he'd be a bit more
specific."

"He probably didn't think it would get this crowded," Scully says
defensively, ignoring her husband's snort. "Anyway, I would think
that you'd - HEYYY!" It's a good thing Sammy's strapped to her,
otherwise she'd accidentally drop her baby in her mad dash to try
waving and running at the same time.

Sighing, Mulder tightens his grip on the bag and basket and hauls
ass, making sure to keep his daughter from falling off. He's
surprised that she can run so fast, given that her legs are shorter,
but then again, she's not carrying two bags as well as a child.
Huffing, he resolves to go back to doing laps again. He sees Scully
enthusiastically throwing her arms around a tall man with hair even
more red than her own, and can't help but smile.

As he nears the Scullys, he trips over something and goes down. Hard.
And the first thing he thinks is, Page! Is she okay?

Ow, ow, ow, Mulder thinks, his training having spared him nothing
more painful than a bruised ego as he quickly sits up and looks
around. His daughter is about a foot away, crying, and he rushes over
to her. "I'm sorry, baby," he says, "Daddy tripped over something."

"Sorry about that," a man's voice says from behind.

Mulder turns around and is surprised to see Agent Doggett, that is,
Detective Doggett, standing in front of him with a sheepish
expression. "Mr. Doggett," he says, holding out his hand.

"Agent Moldah," Doggett mangles the name in his inimitable Southern
version of a New York accent. "Hey, sorry about that. Me an' Luke
were just playin' Frisbee." He holds up the offending object.

"And I guess I slipped on that. Um, you've met my wife," he says,
when the curious Scullys have joined them. "And this is her brother
Charlie, and," he pauses, unsure what the etiquette is.

Scully smiles, taking up where he left off, as well as looking over
her daughter. "And his wife Elaine, and their son Brandon." The
Chinese-American woman is about as petite as she is, and their little
boy is a handsome mix of Irish and Chinese. "Mr. Doggett, what a
surprise."

Doggett shrugs as his son joins them, "Soonah or latah, you meet
everyone in the City," and grins. "Hey, this is Luke," and he takes a
little girl from the boy's arms, "And Hannah."

"Is your wife all right?" Scully asks, concerned.

"Huh? Oh yeah," Doggett says, " She had a business meetin' to go to."
He shakes his head. "Don't see why private sector can't have a
holiday like the rest of us." It sounds like an oft-told argument,
and then he smiles guiltily. "I'm sorry I messed up your picnic."

"Hey, we never got started." Charlie grins. "Now this is starting to
look like the kind of family picnics I remember. Lots of kids, lots
of food, lots of sun, somebody getting hurt..."

"That wasn't fun," Scully makes a face at him.

"How was I supposed to know about jellyfish?" Charlie argues as they
go to their picnic spot, the Doggetts and Mulders in tow. "Or when
Bill dared you-"

"Don't," Scully interrupts him, then turns back sweetly to her
husband. "If Charlie tells you anything about 'when Dana was little,'
hit him."

"That's my older sister." The tall redhead grins, affectionately
squeezing her and making her mock grimace.

Doggett chuckles as his son arbitrarily declares himself the leader
of the other mobile kids, even as the grownups try and sort out the
food and beach blankets. "Reminds me of my family picnics, too," he
admits.

Mulder asks Doggett a question he's always wondered since the other
man joined the X-Files. "So what brings a Southern gentleman like you
up north to NYC?" he says.

Something crosses the man's eyes briefly, but is barely visible to
Mulder, perhaps only because he's looking for it. "My wife," he says,
"I met her when I first joined the force, and hell, despite what you
see on TV, it's a great place to raise a kid."

Mulder nods, still slightly in awe that Luke's alive and now the
older brother of a baby sister. "Well, kid plural now," he says,
gesturing at Hannah, "I can tell Luke's probably gonna beat up
whoever's unlucky enough to ask Hannah out when the time comes."

"Her boyfriends would have ta get through me first," Doggett says,
shaking his head. "I don' even wanna think that far ahead."

"Then don't," Scully says, giving her husband a look. "Why don't you
try Elaine's spring rolls before the flies eat them up?"

"Sure thing," he says, helping himself as the dark-haired woman
beams.

~*~*~

"How long are you going to be in New York?" Scully asks her
sister-in-law, even as she bottle-feeds Sammy. It's nice to be able
to just hang out with another woman, under the shade of a leafy tree,
and relax, she thinks idly.

The Chinese-American woman looks up at her husband, who is jawing
with Mulder and Doggett about various sports teams and laughing at
one or the other's favorite underdog as they pursue the manly art of
barbeque. "The way things look, maybe a year," she says.

There's a slightly wistful tone that Scully recognizes from her
mother. "He might as well have joined the military, the way you have
to constantly relocate," she sympathizes.

"I've heard you and Fox do quite a bit of traveling yourself," Elaine
says, smiling as her son and the tow-headed boy slow down enough to
include Page in their games. "I'm surprised you already have two
kids."

Scully smiles back. Long ago, she would've freaked out had anyone
told her she would be a mother of two on top of being a doctor and
FBI agent at this point. But being with Mulder has made her loosen up
on some things, both in her personal and professional life, not that
she'd ever tell him that. "I'm surprised, too," she admits. "But then
again, I never thought I'd be out in the field. I started out
teaching at Quantico, and I was sure I'd simply climb the ladder
there."

Elaine nods. "Life never seems to go the way you planned, does it?"
she says. "I went to med school and ended up an editor's assistant
for a big publishing firm, you went through med school and ended up
an FBI agent."

The redhead nods, "Well, at least you get to read fiction. It seems
like I'm living it," and she grins, knowing her job's reputation even
among her family. "By the way, what did you think of the latest Kay
Scarpetta?" And they end up peaceably discussing forensic techniques
for a good while.

A sudden movement catches their attention, and Elaine turns her head
to see her son tumbling around the grass with the other kids. "Pinch
me," she says, and Scully looks at her strangely. She chuckles. "That
boy's been glued to the TV so long, I thought Charlie would install a
satellite dish on his head," and her redheaded sister-in-law laughs.
"It's so nice to be with family," she says.

Scully nods. "Yeah, it is," she says, then nudges her sister-in-law
with her free elbow towards the menfolk. "Look at them, I wonder if
they've spent all this time talking baseball?"

Elaine laughs. "Oh God, Charlie's probably trying to convert them
into Red Sox fans."

~*~*~

"Now what are they laughin' about?" Doggett wonders, shifting his
baby girl on his hip as he flips another burger.

"Women." Mulder rolls his eyes, "God only knows." And continues
munching his hot dog.

The tall redhead swallows the last of his burger before answering.
"They've probably been talking about the latest forensic techniques,"
Charlie muses, then stops when the other two men look at him.
"Elaine's a big mystery buff, and Dana's a pathologist," he says.

Mulder grins. "You officially win the award of Farthest-Jumped
Conclusion," he says, ignoring the irony that it could easily have
gone to him. "I can see how you and Scully are related."

"Why don't you call her by her first name?" Charlie wonders.
"Besides, being a Scully myself, it just sounds weird."

Mulder shrugs. "Weird is what I do," he says, and now Doggett
chuckles.

"Ya don't say," the Southern transplant says, and Mulder has a
feeling of d�j� vu. "Barbara would probably ignore me if I called her
by her maiden name."

"Is it that bad?" Charlie grins.

Doggett grins back, but shakes his head. "Nah, but it's a guy's name.
If I called her 'Patrick,' she wouldn't know I was talkin' to her."

"I see what you mean," Mulder says, picking up his Coke. "Yeah, she'd
probably look at you funny."

"I hope you at least have some sickening nicknames for my sister,"
Charlie says, returning to his question from another angle. "If
Elaine called me 'Scully' all the time, I'd at least hope for some
variety."

"She calls me 'Mulder'," Mulder shrugs. "It beats 'Fox'."

"But Fox is a cool name," Charlie argues, "well, it kinda sounds
Native American." He looks to Doggett for confirmation. The other man
shrugs.

"Tell you what," Mulder says, "you tell me what kind of nicknames you
gave Scully, I mean, Dana, when she was younger, and I'll call her
Dana more often."

An evil grin spreads across the younger man's face. "You sure about
that?"

Doggett gives the other man a worried look. "Moldah, maybe some
things are bettah left unsaid," he says, "I come from a big family,
too, and most of what we called each other ain't fit for mixed
company."

Mulder brushes the other's man's worries aside. "Hey, I had a sister,
too, and it's just us guys," he says, "how bad can it be?"

~*~*~

"Mulder," Scully frowns at him as they go through the semi-arduous
task of buckling everyone in the car, "now can you tell me what you
were all laughing about?"

A number of nicknames run through Mulder's excellent memory, and he
clamps down on the snigger that's threatening to escape. If there's
ever a time to exercise his cool exterior, now would be it.
"Nothing," he mumbles quickly, starting the car.

"Mulder?" She tries again, but seeing she'll get nothing out of him
for now, she sighs and leans back against the seat. "It was nice
seeing Mr. Doggett and his son again," she says casually.

"Yeah, it was," Mulder answers, and the sobering reality of the
consequences of his wish frees his mind of any hysterical sobriquets.
"John and Charlie made plans to hang out again."

"That's nice," Scully says, hoping that Elaine would get along with
the as-yet-unmet Mrs. Barbara Doggett. "We should do this more
often."

"Do what?" Mulder asks, thinking she could be referring to anything
from being in New York to having a barbeque.

"Leave home without being on a case," The redhead says, glancing at
him. His eyes are still on the road, so she goes on. "It's actually
relaxing once there's no worries about chasing monsters,
interrogating delusional witnesses, or having to write a report about
the whole mess."

"So," he says casually, guessing she's forgotten about his earlier
evasive maneuver, "what were you and Elaine talking about?"

She's about to give him some inconsequential answer, but seeing as
how he was somewhat pigheaded about her small question earlier, she
changes her mind. "We were discussing forensic techniques," she says
mildly.

Suddenly, Mulder erupts into a fit of laughter so hard, he has to
pull to the side of the road.

~*~*~

end three of ten

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