FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND By T Bishop
Rated: R
Category: MSR/X-File
Warning: This one has a bit more angst than usual.
Disclaimer: Some of the characters in this story are the property
of Chris Carter, 1013 productions and FOX.
Author's note: FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND is a sequel to PROGENESIS,
which I posted at the end of the seventh season. I have reposted
a revised edition of that story concurrent with the posting of
this sequel.
*** Sincerest thanks to David, Char, Tracy, Keleka, Brigitte,
Shoshana, Shell, and especially Marybeth for getting me through
this one. My apologies to all of you out there who have been
waiting for me to finish this story. I know it took a lot longer
than I originally anticipated. Thank you for your patience, and
all your letters of encouragement.
As always, thanks to Grasshopper for archiving my stories at The
Literary G-Spot.
http://tbishop.freeservers.com/
or
http://arcticfox42.phpwebhosting.com/Tbishop.htm
**GO TO MY ARCHIVE TO SEE THE BEAUTIFUL BOOK JACKET CHAR CHAFFIN
CREATED FOR FOOTPRINTS!**
And now, without further ado...
FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND
~Prologue~
"DADDY!"
He awoke with a start from the blackness of deep sleep to the
panicked cries of his son and the hurried patter of small
footsteps running down the hall. Fox Mulder's first thought was
the SIG-Sauer hidden on the top shelf of the bedroom closet -
realizing with dread that his groggy mind couldn't remember where
his wife had told him she'd hidden the clips.
"DADDY! DADDY!" The frightened boy came charging into his
parent's room, throwing himself onto the bed and quickly
scurrying to the place his childish mind deemed safest, under the
covers between his father and mother.
Mulder's own fears eased now that the boy was beside him. Adam
was safe... probably just a nightmare. He glanced over at Scully
who was out like a light. For a former G-Woman who once had the
sharp senses of a cat, she'd certainly let herself become lulled
in the five years since they'd left the Bureau. Oh well, he
could handle this one on his own, he supposed. He lifted the
edge of the blankets and peered under at his wide-eyed little
boy. "What's the matter, Adam? Did you have a bad dream?"
"A monster," the child whimpered, terrified.
As much as Mulder would have liked to say that there are no such
things, he knew better, of course... and Adam would too if he
tried to lie to the boy. Reaching out, he stroked a loving hand
over his son's hair, attempting to soothe away some of the
child's fright. "There's no monster. You just had a nightmare."
"He's here," the boy insisted in a foreboding whisper. "He's
coming to get me!"
Mulder pulled his son's trembling body into a protective hug.
"Daddy won't ever let anything get you."
"Promise?" The child looked up at him hopefully; ready to trust
at only a word.
Mulder leaned forward and kissed his son's sweaty forehead. "I
swear it," he said confidently. And he meant it.
Adam breathed a shaky but relieved sigh at his father's assurance
- large, trusting eyes wide as saucers.
Just as Mulder was about to carry the boy back to his own bed, a
sickening sense began creeping into his awareness. By the time
he realized what was happening, he couldn't move, couldn't
breathe, couldn't force himself to speak. Utter helplessness.
His mind leapt to the frightening association...
THEM!
The aliens - the ones that hurt him, held him hostage for months
in a prison of unremitting light and pain; while they conducted
their sadistic experiments, treating him no different than a lab
animal.
THEY were here!
Oh God, no, please... not again! He couldn't go through that
again! Terror swiftly turned to horror when, seconds later,
Adam's 'monster' appeared in the bedroom doorway, and Mulder saw
for the first time the face of the creature that had upset his
son.
A bounty hunter.
Every fiber of Mulder's being screamed out in protest, though
outwardly his body remained stoic and calm - a prisoner 'in
statius' just as he'd been all those long months of his
captivity. He half expected to feel himself rising weightlessly
into the air, drifting out of the bed, floating up into the
bright light of doom. What he didn't expect, what distressed him
more than the prospect of being held captive again by those
soulless bastards, was the real reason the bounty hunter had
come.
He wasn't here for Mulder.
He'd come for the boy.
'NOOOOOO!' Mulder's cry echoed in vain inside his head. He
could only watch, as the hulking figure of the bounty hunter came
closer, stealing the petrified child out of his useless arms, and
carrying him away.
"DADDY! DADDY! HELP ME!" Adam screamed. "DADDY! PLEASE!
DON'T LET HIM TAKE ME! DADDY! YOU PROMISED!" Small arms
reaching out desperately; wild eyes accusing his father of
unthinkable betrayal.
Adrenalin pumped through Mulder's veins with a vengeance, until
he felt certain his pounding heart was about to explode. 'ADAM!
NOOOO!!! ADAM!' But the screams remained trapped inside his
head, leaving the room deathly silent - save for the now distant
fearful whimpers of a small child in the arms of a monster.
As the bounty hunter disappeared from his line of sight, Mulder's
wide, tear-filled eyes frantically searched the room for Scully.
Why wasn't she waking up? Surely she'd heard their son's
screams. Unless... Oh God, no! Had they taken her too? Not
again. He couldn't lose her again. Please, God, not Scully too!
Then, out of nowhere, she was right in front of him, crying,
sobbing... begging him to help her. "They're taking him, Mulder!
Stop them! Help me! What the hell is the matter with you?!!
God damn it, Mulder! Get up!" She beat on his chest in
frustration. "Stop them! Please! Don't let them hurt our little
boy! Don't let them hurt him... Mulder! God damn it! Do
something! They're taking him!" She shook Mulder hard -
furious.
And then, all of a sudden, he was free...
With a gasp, Mulder sat up, choking on the saliva caught in his
throat, sucking deep breaths of air, as if he'd been on the verge
of asphyxiation. His heart throbbed furiously; his chest aching
painfully with each frantic beat. He looked over only to find
Scully asleep at his side, peacefully unaware of the trauma that
had awakened him.
Just another goddamn nightmare.
Bathed in cold perspiration, Mulder fought to steady his
breathing as he climbed out of bed and stumbled on wobbly legs
toward the bathroom. He turned on the faucet and cupped his
hands under the chilled stream, bending down low to splash water
over his face and shock himself out of the remnants of his dream
state. As he studied his reflection in the mirror, Mulder combed
trembling fingers through his hair. The eerie glow of moonlight
filtering in through the small bathroom window cast an even
whiter pallor over his ghostly complexion, giving further
emphasis to the sinister shadows beneath his eyes. To say he
'looked a fright' was not an exaggeration. Night after night of
disturbed sleep was taking its toll.
For several minutes, Mulder leaned against the sink, waiting for
his heartbeat to slow to something near normal, and the
plummeting feeling to leave the pit of his stomach. As soon as
he felt a measure of control again, he walked back through the
bedroom, glancing briefly at his sleeping wife, before heading
across the hall to his son's room.
He had to be sure it was only a dream.
These reality checks were growing more and more necessary, as
well as more frequent; and that worried him. He'd been having
difficulty lately separating the wild imaginings of his sleep
from actual memories. He was inclined to blame it on the damn
hypnotherapy sessions; they were stirring up his subconscious,
making it difficult to separate fantasy from repressed truths.
He'd already been in Adam's room twice that night - but he had to
have just one more peek to be sure.
He never noticed the pair of anxious blue eyes studying him with
concern as he left the room...
At five years old, Adam still looked so much like a baby when he
slept; that sweet little face of his, bathed in the soft glow of
his teddy bear nightlight, sustained the angelic qualities of
infancy. So young... So vulnerable... Mulder stood over his son
for the longest time - watching - needing to be sure Adam was
really safe; that he'd only imagined the boy's abduction.
Again.
Recurring dreams of Adam being taken were haunting Mulder every
night now. He was certain it was because of the book. Mulder
was heavily into research for a book he was writing about the
experiences of abductees and their families. And the subject was
proving too close for comfort. If things continued this way, he
might have to put the project aside, concentrate his efforts on
something less troubling to his psyche. Although, part of him
knew this was something he couldn't walk away from. If he tried
to bury it, or ignore it, it would eat him up inside. That's why
he'd decided to write the book in the first place - as a way of
forcing himself to deal with the truth.
Mulder had been pushing himself hard the past year, seeing Dr.
Werber, trying to recover memories from those lost months of his
abduction. For years, he'd been unwilling to look back. Until
he asked Scully to try hypnosis again, to retrieve the details of
her abduction experience - selfishly making his wife the first
subject of his book, without really considering the depth of what
he was asking of her. She'd bravely agreed to undergo the
therapy - probably figuring he'd never get started on the
manuscript if she didn't. The process had been terribly painful
for her; and in retrospect, Mulder deeply regretted putting her
through such a stressful ordeal. Scully suffered through a dozen
sessions before coming to him in tears one night, telling him she
couldn't take any more... didn't want to remember any more.
The testimonials she gave were horrific; they made him even more
fearful of discovering what his own experience had been like.
But how could he put her through something he wasn't willing,
himself, to endure? He couldn't. And so he'd been making the
trip from Martha's Vineyard twice a month for sessions with Heitz
Werber, the DC hypnotherapist whose practice specialized in cases
of memory repression.
At first they had little success - Mulder had buried the painful
memories deep, and he seemed hell bent on keeping them well
covered. But over time, they were able to expose small bits and
pieces; enough that Mulder had to know more, regardless of his
fears. From a purely scientific view - as research - it was
fascinating; from a personal perspective, it was downright
chilling.
But not so chilling as the thought that those evil entities might
one day come for his son. As he watched over the innocent child
asleep in his bed, Mulder swore to himself that he would do
ANYTHING to stop that from happening. THEY would never get their
hands on his little boy. He loved his son too much to bear the
thought of him suffering the kind of hell those alien bastards
dished out.
With a trembling voice Mulder whispered again the promise he'd
made Adam in his dream. "Daddy won't ever let anything get you."
Then he closed his eyes and prayed for the strength to assure
his words would not be a lie...
* * * *
~Chapter 1~
327 Tisbury Lane Martha's Vineyard, Massachusetts Monday, June 5,
2006 6:47 AM
"I want ketchup!" Adam declared loudly.
"On your French toast?" Scully grimaced, the very thought of such
a culinary concoction turning her stomach.
Mulder shrugged and retrieved the mostly empty bottle from the
refrigerator, offering it to the delighted boy who immediately
went to work dousing his breakfast in tomatoey goo. "I used to
like jelly on my scrambled eggs," he confessed to his wife's look
of disgust.
"I can't watch him eat that." Scully stood up from the table
carrying her cup of coffee with her as she walked over to the
counter and began looking through the papers in her briefcase,
making sure she wasn't forgetting anything of vital importance
before she headed off to work.
She and Mulder had decided to leave the Bureau shortly after Adam
was born. They'd moved to one of the beachfront properties
Mulder had inherited from his mother, not far from his childhood
address of Chilmark. Scully had taken a job teaching forensic
pathology part- time at Harvard Medical School. The commute was
long, but it was only three days a week that she had to make the
drive to Boston; which meant that she and Mulder and Adam got to
spend a good portion of each week together at their island home.
In the colder months they stayed in the city, at the home of
friends, who religiously headed to Florida every November. It
was an ideal arrangement. They had a normal life, or at least
the outward appearance of one.
Things could never really be 'normal' though - not for them. For
Adam was much more than a bright and happy five-year-old boy; he
was a genetic treasure chest. They'd managed to keep it secret,
their son's ability to read minds - fearing he'd become an
assassin's target like Gibson Praise - or that the remains of the
Consortium or some other evil force would take an interest in the
child. Scully had confirmed Adam's natural born immunity to the
alien virus, but she feared any sort of research she might do to
understand the antibodies his blood produced would be discovered
- attracting just the sort of unwanted attention they'd been
trying to avoid. 'The Progenesis Project' had been shut down
thanks to Alex Krycek - its team members all killed before they
could see the product of their unethical science. Adam was the
living result of their efforts; gifted with the unusual ability
for cellular regeneration. Although it hadn't been properly
tested, he did display signs of an abnormal healing capacity, and
characteristics which Scully felt certain could only be
attributed to the 'Progenesis' factor he'd inherited from her
altered DNA.
In short, Adam would be highly sought after if knowledge of his
'uniqueness' were to get out. Always in the back of Scully's
mind was the fear that someone out there DID know - and they were
lying in wait for a chance to get their hands on the child. That
was the reason Mulder had chosen to be a stay-at-home dad; he'd
felt the need to keep a constant vigil over their son, just in
case old enemies should resurface with designs on little Adam.
As Scully snapped closed her briefcase, she pushed away the grim
thoughts that had crept up on her. She tried not to think about
their 'family secret' if she could at all help it. There really
wasn't any point - it was simply something they had to live with.
Dwelling on things she could do nothing about was senseless.
They had a good life; she did not need to ruin it by agonizing
over her worst fears.
"I've got to get moving or I'm going to miss the 7:15 ferry and
be late for my lecture." She grabbed up her attache and keys,
took one last sip of coffee, then kissed Adam on his ketchup
stained cheek. "Bye, sweetie, be a good boy for Daddy today."
Then she turned to her husband and smiled a tiny smirk. "You be
a good boy today too. I expect to see some progress on the book
when I get home tonight. Don't just play around with Adam on the
beach all day."
"You really like to crack the whip, don't you, Scully?" He
grinned at his wife, grabbed her around the waist and stole a
coffee-flavored kiss.
Adam perked up, watching his mother and father with interest.
"Daddy is thinking naughty things again."
"Never mind," Scully scolded the boy, wishing Mulder would be
more careful with his wandering thoughts. She tried to bring his
attention back to more serious matters. "You miss another
deadline and you'll be looking for a new publisher. You've
already cashed the advance check, Mulder, it's not unreasonable
for them to want to see some progress."
"Yeah, yeah... go to work already." He waved her away with mock
annoyance. She'd scolded him halfheartedly, but there were many
layers to their conversation.
Adam studied his mother's face thoughtfully for a moment, then he
turned to his father and said, "Mommy's worried because you keep
having nightmares. You try to hide them from her, but she knows.
She thinks that's why you aren't writing anymore. She thinks it
hurts too much for you to remember and you're afraid of the
pain." After his revealing pronouncement, Adam went right back to
eating his breakfast; chugging down half his glass of milk and
ignoring the white mustache it left behind as he gobbled up
another bite of ketchup covered French toast.
Mulder shot his wife an angry look. "I'm not afraid."
"Daddy's lying." Sometimes Adam Mulder did not understand his
parents at all. As much as they loved each other, they still
felt the need to hide their true feelings about certain things.
He especially didn't like it when they lied to each other,
because they'd always told him that lying was wrong.
Mulder's face darkened and he threw a look of irritation in his
son's direction. "Adam - that's enough now, okay? Eat your
breakfast."
The boy shrugged indignantly, privy to the 'mental' scolding his
father was sending his way as well. Why should HE be in trouble
when his dad was the one who lied? Grown-ups were so unfair!
"Look, Scully, you can stop worrying. I'm fine." He grimaced
the second the words left his mouth, ignoring his wife's
skeptical look. "I'll make the stupid deadline this time, I
promise. I'll put my nose to the grindstone today."
Adam looked at his mother and giggled, but wisely refrained from
comment this time.
Mulder's eyes narrowed on his wife. "Would you like to share
that thought with those of us who can't read minds, Scully?"
"Not particularly." She smiled ruefully, at the same time trying
not to laugh; then leaned over and kissed her husband on the tip
of his nose. "I'll be home early. I don't have an afternoon
class today - Dr. Finley is guest lecturing." Her blue-eyed gaze
moved from father to son. "Maybe we can go miniature golfing
tonight... and possibly out for ice cream sundaes afterwards."
"Yea!" Adam cheered.
"Yea!" Mulder echoed, just as childishly - getting in a parting
swat to his wife's derriere for her earlier unspoken wisecrack,
before she could escape his reach.
"Ouch! That hurt, Mulder!" she objected, but there was a playful
and promising look in her eyes when she glanced back over her
shoulder at him. His gaze locked with hers and silent plans were
made for a little late night fun of a more adult nature. They
quickly put those thoughts away, however, before Adam found it
necessary to remark again. "Okay then, I'm outta here," Scully
told her family. "Love you guys. See you later."
She hurried out the door into the brightness of the late spring
morning.
The school year would be wrapping up this week, and she and
Mulder had promised to take Adam on a camping trip before it got
too unbearably hot. Maybe she would go shopping while she was in
the city today, start loading up on the supplies they'd need.
She wasn't about to leave the purchases up to Mulder, after the
small fortune he'd spent gearing them up for a simple ski weekend
last fall. While they certainly weren't hurting for money, with
all the inheritance Mulder had received from his mother's and
father's estates, Scully preferred to live off their income. Her
job paid well, and Mulder managed to bring in a surprising amount
as a guest speaker at conventions and university seminars. They
earned more than enough to live comfortably, so Scully insisted
their savings remain untouched - as an insurance policy for the
future... just incase. Mulder tolerated - but laughed at - her
financial prudence, labeling it obsessive paranoia - like he had
room to talk!
* * * *
The backyard of their historic Cape Cod style home was only a few
hundred feet from the Atlantic shoreline. Mulder sat out on the
deck, virtually ignoring his laptop while he watched his little
boy playing on the beach a short distance away. Gone were the
days of Armani suits and tight fitting dress shoes; Mulder's new
work attire consisted mainly of shorts or comfortable, old blue
jeans and well- worn sandals. Aside from the occasional speaking
engagement, Mulder worked almost exclusively from home,
researching and writing.
His new career was a far cry from FBI work, although he was still
investigating the paranormal. With his writing project in full
swing, Mulder spent the bulk of his time conducting telephone
interviews with people all over the world who claimed alien
abduction experiences. Some were obvious fakes, but Mulder found
it easy enough to discern the oddballs from the authentic cases.
There were two categories of abductees; victims like Scully
whose kidnappings were staged by the government but related to
alien phenomenon; and those, like Mulder, who had actually been
held captive by extraterrestrial beings. Symptomatic of both
scenarios were the encoding of false memories, making it often
very difficult to draw distinctions.
Mulder insisted on interviewing family members of the victims,
when at all possible. He wanted his book to serve two purposes:
to tell the stories of the victims of alien and alien related
abductions, and also to depict the trauma their loved ones went
through because of their ordeals. It was Mulder's hope that his
book would offer comfort to the victims and their families (who
were often outcasts of society after going public with their
stories) as they realized their thoughts and fears were shared by
so many others who had been through the same hell. The cutesy
title his literary agent had dreamed up not withstanding, 'We Are
Not Alone,' promised to be one of the most serious and
comprehensive studies of alien abduction cases ever published.
IF it ever got published, Mulder lamented... he had to write the
goddamn thing first!
He attempted for the umpteenth time that day to concentrate on
his notes; but, at the moment, watching his little boy trying to
sneak up on seagulls was infinitely more entertaining. Mulder
laughed out loud when Adam tried to dive onto one poor
unsuspecting bird and ended up with nothing more than a face full
of sand for his efforts. Adam might be lean and agile, much like
Mulder had been as a child, but he was learning quickly that he
was no match for a creature with wings.
... Mulder's mind flashed to images of his captivity. The
torture... The screaming... Pain - so much pain! Overwhelming
fear. He wanted to die, but they wouldn't let him, and the
nightmare went on and on...
The only thing that kept him sane all those endless months was
the belief that Scully would be waiting for him somewhere on the
other side of hell. He had to survive for her. She was waiting
for him - and that single focus was his salvation. Thoughts of
her were his only escape from the pain - blue eyes lit with the
fire of passion... the sweet seduction of her lips... her soft,
happy laughter tickling his ears... the exquisite feel of her
body yielding to his as they made love late in the night... The
promise of their reunion had sustained him through unspeakable
horrors.
Sitting in on his wife's sessions with Dr. Werber, Mulder learned
for the first time some of what she had been subjected to during
her abduction. Excruciating tests, no less bizarre or
frightening than he had endured. He hated those motherfuckers
for what they did to her! It was a miracle she lived through it.
So much of what she remembered was nothing more than bright
light and terror... Dr. Werber believed some of Scully's
experiences were too deeply repressed to recover - her
consciousness simply refusing to accept them.
The light was something all of the abductees had in common.
Whether it actually existed or was a symptom of some sort of
psychological conditioning, Mulder wasn't clear. Real or
imagined though, the light was a terrifying place. Taken back
under hypnosis to revisit that light, Scully had been so
petrified that she cried for her father like a little girl.
'DADDY! DADDY! Make it stop!'
There were children trapped in that light. Mulder never saw
them, but he heard them crying out for their mommies and
daddies... heard their shrill screams as they underwent the
tests. He wanted so desperately to help them, to stop their pain
somehow - any way that he could. But he couldn't even help
himself. As Mulder lay helplessly restrained, the children went
on sobbing and screaming and pleading for someone who loved them
to come to their rescue...
'Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!'
Their cries became Adam's now, as Mulder's nightmares came back
to him in bold flashes. Adam being abducted, again and again...
Mulder always powerless to stop it from happening. He constantly
worried that the dreams would prove prophetic. And he knew he
couldn't let Adam go through that - no matter what. NEVER!
Jesus...
He'd broken out in a cold sweat. He couldn't keep doing this to
himself. He promised Scully he'd get something accomplished
today. But Mulder couldn't seem to shake the ominous feeling that
hounded him... had been hounding him for weeks. It went well
beyond the normal scope of his day-to-day paranoia. It bordered
on fixation - and it was really starting to scare him.
Eventually Adam tired of his futile game with the seagulls and
made his way back to his father. Mulder had scarcely begun to
find his concentration and organize his thoughts when Adam
approached. The precocious child didn't say a word; just stood
there waiting patiently for his father's attention. After a
short time, Mulder felt the boy's stare as a palpable sensation
and looked up from his work. He was about to speak when Adam
jumped in, and Mulder realized he'd already voiced his question
mentally.
"No, I'm not hungry yet. I'm bored, Daddy."
Mulder sighed. How many times a day did he hear that? "Adam,
why don't you -"
"That's no fun."
"Well, go -"
"I don't want to do that either."
"How about -"
"No, I did that yesterday."
"Okay, then -"
"Dad! That's for babies!"
Mulder grabbed his aching head. "Adam, stop! Just STOP! You
know it gives me a headache when you do that!"
"I'm sorry, Dad."
The little boy dropped his gaze downward at his father's
reproach. And Mulder instantly felt terrible for yelling at the
poor kid. After all, it wasn't Adam's fault he was telepathic.
He was just using the gifts he was born with. But, for his own
safety, the child would have to learn to restrain himself, be
taught how to carry on a normal conversation without making
others suspicious of his unusual talent.
"It's all right, buddy. Come here. Give Dad a hug. I'm sorry I
yelled at you, son." Adam came forward immediately and wrapped
his arms around his father's neck, and Mulder gave him a loving
squeeze. But the child held on long after his father had let go,
and Mulder's brow furrowed with bewilderment at the strange
behavior. "Hey, what's this about? Are you trying to strangle
your old dad?" Adam shook his head but continued to cling,
tighter, escalating Mulder's concern. "What's wrong then? Adam,
talk to me."
The boy finally let go, the expression on his face deeply
troubled. "Are the aliens really going to take me, Daddy?"
It felt like all the blood was suddenly and quite rapidly
draining from Mulder's body. The boy's question, coming out of
the blue, hit him hard; would have buckled his knees had he been
standing. Fighting his mounting anxiety, Mulder tried not to let
his dismay show. "Why on Earth would you think something like
that?"
There was a bit of sheepishness in Adam's reply. "Cause you keep
thinking it."
Wide, innocent, blue eyes staring back at him, uncertain,
afraid... They triggered something deep inside Mulder; and while
Adam stood there waiting for a response from his father,
everything inside Mulder started unraveling... Racing pulse,
pounding heart, dry mouth, tunneling vision. He found himself
hyperventilating. Panic attack; the symptoms were all too
familiar to him. They were indicative of the Post Traumatic
Stress Disorder he suffered as a complication of his regression
therapy.
"Daddy, what's wrong?" Adam asked, alarmed upon witnessing his
father's abrupt loss of composure.
He had to calm down and pull himself together. Slow - deep
breaths, Mulder. Come on - you can't freak out in front of the
kid - God damn it - DON'T DO THIS!
"I'm okay, son... Just give Dad a sec... All right? ...I'm
fine." With an unsteady hand, Mulder reached for the half empty
glass of iced tea beside his laptop. He brought the drink to his
lips, concentrating on the cool liquid, forcing himself to
swallow a mouthful.
Unable to sit still any longer, he started to pace back and forth
across the deck, acutely aware of each and every step he took.
"This is ridiculous. Stop. Stop now," he muttered to himself,
blowing out a tense breath and trying to shake off the
nervousness that weighted his body like a wet blanket.
He paced some more.
"Don't do this. Not now. Don't fall apart now."
Another pass back and forth.
"Everything is all right, damn it. Stay in control," he went on
trying to talk himself down.
Placing a call to Scully would have probably been a good idea -
her voice always soothed him; but there was no way in hell Mulder
was going to tell her about this. And if he phoned the college
and had her pulled out of class to take his call, she would
expect more explanation than, 'I just wanted to hear you voice,
honey.' No. He couldn't tell her. He couldn't let her know how
much these nightmares were affecting him.
He couldn't let anyone know.
He certainly didn't want Adam privy to the disturbing thoughts
that had been plaguing him lately. Some things children couldn't
understand; shouldn't have to be burdened with. Every parent
knows that; realizes the necessity to protect their little ones
from the harsher truths. He'd tried to be so careful, but
obviously not careful enough. Adam was a very bright kid.
Mulder had no doubt the child's IQ would test well into the range
of genius. The combination of his intelligence, his ability to
read minds, and his innate childish curiosity, meant keeping
anything a secret from him was next to impossible. But Mulder
had tried so hard to shelter the child, especially from this.
It took several long minutes before he could collect himself -
rein in the anxiety that had run away with him.
Adam had never witnessed one of his father's panic attacks. They
usually came late in the night, waking Mulder from a sound sleep,
causing him to bolt out of bed; and sending him pacing the room
or rushing to the window for deep breaths of fresh air.
Witnessing his father in such a state, the little boy was on the
verge of tears by the time Mulder could focus on anything outside
of himself and sit back down again. He felt awful for adding to
Adam's worries when what he should have been doing was reassuring
the poor kid.
"I'm sorry, Adam. Dad's been working really hard on his book and
I guess I've been overdoing it." Not seeing any change at all in
the concerned little face staring back at him, Mulder sighed. He
knew better then to attempt to placate Adam with half-truths.
Distracting him was the best ploy in such situations. With a
forced smile, Mulder tried again. "Hey, what do you say I take a
break for a while and we go for a bike ride?"
The suggestion didn't even register with the boy, whose
tenaciousness was perhaps his strongest trait.
"Dad, the aliens hurt people when they take them, don't they?
Just like they did to you."
Already pale, Mulder's cheeks blanched whiter. Two large blue
eyes stared at him, until he felt positively transparent. Oh,
Jesus... "They're not coming for you. I promise." It felt like
a lie.
Adam's wide gaze never faltered from his father's, as he digested
the assurance and found it lacking in real conviction. "You say
that... but you don't believe it."
Pressing cold fingers to his temples, Mulder attempted to massage
away the ever-increasing throb inside his head. He tried his
hardest to concentrate on other, less ominous, thoughts; not to
let his mind wander into the dark, and his fears overtake him
again. After taking a moment to compose himself, Mulder very
deliberately placed his hands on Adam's slender shoulders. And
facing the young boy directly, he did his best to explain.
"Son, you have a very special ability. You can hear peoples'
thoughts. But what you don't understand yet - and what's
important to know - is that not all thoughts are rational ones.
Some are just silly fears that run away with our common sense.
They have no basis in reality whatsoever. They're not to be
believed."
"You sound like Mommy."
Mulder had to smile at that; the kid was damn perceptive too.
"Yeah, well, your mother is an incredibly smart lady, so I'm
going to take that as a compliment." He pulled Adam close
wrapping him in another hug; and this time it was Mulder who had
difficulty letting go. His son. His only child. Clutching the
boy possessively, words poured from his heart as a surge of
unexpected emotion overwhelmed him. "I love you, Adam. No
matter what... I want you to always remember that." The child
stiffened uncomfortably and Mulder forced himself to let go,
quickly wiping away the dampness from his eyes and the grim
thoughts that had once again pushed in to invade his mind. He
watched his son struggle with something profoundly upsetting -
and wrestled his own pervading sense of disquiet when Adam asked
him one more anxious question, his little face alight with fear.
"Dad, how do you know which thoughts are the ones you're NOT
supposed to believe?"
* * * *
~ Chapter 2 ~
When Scully returned home from work later that afternoon, the
second she rounded the corner onto Tisbury Lane she knew there
was trouble. Even from three blocks away she could see the black
and whites parked on the street in front of their home. "Oh my
God," she whispered, afraid to know what had happened, but at the
same time compelled to drive faster and find out.
She'd had an uneasy feeling all day, and almost called home
several times; but she didn't want Mulder to think she was
checking up on him, so she'd tried to ignore her anxiety,
resisting the urge to make sure everything was all right at home.
Now she wished she hadn't disregarded her intuition.
She pulled into the driveway, and in her haste to find Mulder and
Adam, left the car door wide open, breaking into a full run
toward the house. There were two police officers conducting a
search of the grounds. They looked at her with sympathy when she
flew past them, chanting a worried mantra of "No, no, no..." as
she raced up the steps and through the opened front door.
Another pair of officers worked inside the house. And Scully
threw a contemptuous look their way; resenting them simply for
what their presence in her home suggested. She heard voices
coming from the next room, and willed rubbery legs to carry her
to investigate.
Mulder sat at the kitchen table, in the same chair where she'd
left him earlier that morning; head in his hands, elbows resting
on the table in a posture of outright despair. Scully's bottom
lip began trembling, a tight whimpering sound issued from her
throat. The man sitting next to Mulder looked up from his notes.
"Is this your wife, sir?"
Mulder lifted an ashen face and mournful eyes to greet Scully's
fearful gaze.
"Where's Adam?" she asked, silently pleading with him not to
confirm her worst fears.
He opened his mouth once to speak... tried again... but no words
would come. And so he just stared at her with a pained
expression that told her more than she wanted to know.
"No." She refused to accept his silent admission. Backing
slowly away, Scully shook her head, tears spilling from her
lashes to christen ghostly pale cheeks. This wasn't real. Adam
was all right. He had to be. He was just hiding, just playing a
childish game. He'd come to her. If she called him now he'd
come.
"ADAM!"
Scully ignored the pitying faces of the others in the room.
She'd show them all he was fine.
"ADAM!"
Mulder was up and out of his chair, moving toward her in the span
of a heartbeat. His own anguish intensifying as he watched
Scully struggle against the painful truth. She continued to back
away, in denial, until he caught her and forcefully enfolded her
in his arms, as much for his own comfort as for hers.
"They took him, Scully," he finally managed to choke out, his
voice raw and broken.
"NO!" she yelled, surprising both of them with her sudden fury as
she broke out of his embrace.
"I'm sorry, Scully... I'm so sorry. He was right there playing
on the beach and I... I got a phone call and went into the
house... Oh God, Scully..."
"You left him alone?" she asked, as if he had committed the most
unthinkable sin. "God damn you, Mulder! How could you leave him
alone? You were supposed to be watching him!"
Mulder nodded, accepting her blame for such an unforgivable lapse
in judgment. "I'm sorry," he offered once more, reaching out to
her again. Wanting - NEEDING - to hold her. How could he ever
apologize for something like this? But he had to try.
Scully pushed him away, wishing she could push everything else
away too. She wanted it all to go - the police, the
investigators, the cars surrounding her home, the neighbors and
onlookers she could see through the window gathering in the
street to gawk and wonder at the tragedy unfolding inside. The
only thing Scully wanted near her right now was her little boy,
safe and sound, in her arms. She swore to God if he gave Adam
back to her she would never let him out of her sight again.
EVER!!!
"Mrs. Mulder?"
Scully frowned at the heavyset man in rolled up shirtsleeves and
glaring, out of date tie. He'd been sitting with Mulder when she
first walked into the kitchen; and now he was coming toward her,
holding up a badge.
"I'm Detective Randolph. Edgartown PD. Ma'am we're going to
have to ask you some questions."
"Please," she begged him to stop, but he showed no mercy.
"According to your husband, your son Adam disappeared while
playing on the beach this afternoon. We'd like to do everything
we possibly can to find him and return him safely to you. I
realize this is the first you're hearing the news, but the faster
we can get the information we need, the quicker we can get out
there looking for your boy."
It was real.
These bastards were making it real... forcing her to accept that
which she'd been afraid of since the first time she heard a tiny
heart beating within her womb. Her baby had been taken from her.
She didn't want to believe it, but they were making it true with
their police cars and badges and notebooks full of questions.
Adam was really gone.
Just this morning, he'd sat in this very room, smearing ketchup
on his French toast, all smiles and giggles; excited by her
promise that they'd go miniature golfing and have ice cream
sundaes when she came home from work...
"Mrs. Mulder?" the persistent detective interrupted her reverie.
Scully nodded absently - not sure what she was agreeing to.
Shock had set in, numbing her mind and body. She let Mulder
guide her to a chair, without really feeling his unsteady hand at
the small of her back... Oblivious to the detective, when he
asked his partner to get her a glass of water... Unaware of the
fact that Mulder had to wrap his fingers around hers to help her
grip the glass and bring it to her lips to drink. And it was as
if from far away that she heard the retelling of the details in
Mulder's shaky voice...
"I was working out on the deck, had my laptop set up outside most
of the day while Adam played on the beach... our usual routine.
Around three o'clock I got a phone call. I needed to check the
wall calendar in the kitchen to confirm several dates for
possible speaking engagements. I honestly thought I'd only be
inside for a minute. Jesus... I didn't want to disturb Adam's
play, so I left him on the beach... God, what was I thinking?"
Mulder broke down for the moment, but Scully was too lost in her
own pain to console him. The room was awkwardly silent until he
pulled himself together and continued.
"... The caller wanted to discuss a book signing appearance
too... Shit! How could I be so stupid?! I went into the study...
to find a letter my agent sent... It must have been five minutes
or so before I could get back outside to check on Adam again. Oh
God... He was gone. Just like that. I was away for only a
handful of minutes..." There was another long pause while Mulder
struggled for composure.
"When I didn't see him right away, I yelled his name out, and
when he didn't answer, I ran down to the beach to look for him.
And when I couldn't find him on the beach... I still can't
believe any of this... I was panicky; I thought maybe he'd
decided to go swimming in the ocean - even though he knows he's
not supposed to do that without an adult - I was afraid he'd
picked the worst possible moment to test authority. I scanned
the waves, hoping I'd catch sight of him, but..." Mulder shook
his head sadly, his face pure agony.
"Then I thought - I HOPED - that Adam had gone back to the house,
and I'd find him out front riding on his bike or playing with his
skateboard or something. I was just about to run back up to the
house and check to see if he'd somehow managed to get by me, when
I spotted a trail of his footprints in the wet sand along the
water's edge, leading up the beach. I followed the tracks,
running along side them for a couple of hundred yards or so until
suddenly they just stopped. I looked all around for signs that
someone might have approached him - lifted him up and carried him
away - but there were no other tracks anywhere nearby. It was
the strangest thing. As if he'd simply vanished where he
stood... That's when I went back up to the house and called the
police."
Mulder put his head down on the table and sobbed. "Oh God...
Oh God, Scully... What have I done?"
The detective exchanged knowing looks with his partner, both men
in silent agreement over what they'd just heard.
Scully absently reached out a deadened hand, letting it rest on
Mulder's arm. It was all she could offer him, an instinctual
reflex more than a true sympathetic response. She just wasn't
capable of feeling at that point. A long time passed before she
was conscious of anything going on around her, or could stop
herself from staring blankly at the empty chair where Adam had
been sitting earlier that morning.
It was Mulder's voice again that finally broke through her dazed
state. He was upset - arguing with the detective.
"Just what in the hell are you implying? Are you saying that you
think I had something to do with my son's disappearance?"
Randolph's tone was patronizing. He smoothed his chubby fingers
through thinning, oily black hair as he spoke. "Mr. Mulder,
these are only routine questions. There's no cause to become
angry. I'm not accusing you of any wrong doing."
"This is all pointless anyway!" Mulder's temper flared in a
flash of frustration. "I told you about the footprints... they
just stopped! Adam wasn't kidnapped by some stranger on the
beach! And he wasn't carried away by the surf! THEY took him!
He was abducted by aliens! It's the only explanation for the
evidence I saw!"
Scully felt immediately sick to her stomach at Mulder's
suggestion. He was wrong, of course. Jumping to fantastic
conclusions as always. Those monsters didn't have Adam. She
refused to accept that!
The detective's suspicious eyes met with his partner's again,
then focused hard on the missing boy's father. "What evidence,
Mr. Mulder? Footprints in the sand? Evidence you CLAIM was
washed away by the incoming tide before we arrived? I know about
you and your belief in men from outer space, but I don't happen
to subscribe to any of that science fiction nonsense. So I'm
going to keep this investigation down to earth, if that's all
right with you. And even if it isn't; because there's a little
boy's life at stake here, and I take my job very seriously."
The conversation went downhill quickly from there. Mulder and
Detective Randolph continued their heated exchange until Scully
had all she could take. Slapping her hands angrily on the
tabletop, she stood up so abruptly, her chair toppled over onto
the floor. The unexpected noise startled everyone, focusing all
attention on her.
"While you two sit here bickering, my child is out there
somewhere in danger! Mulder you've given this man your
statement, you're clearly not going to make a believer out of
him, so let it go!"
Mulder shrank back, nodding to appease her. He'd known this
woman long enough not to argue with her when her Irish temper
took over. Besides, she was right. Bickering with Randolph
wouldn't accomplish anything.
Scully turned her venom on the man seated to her left. "And
Detective Randolph, your discourtesy to my husband demonstrates
an inexcusable lack of compassion! My husband is understandably
in a highly emotional state at the moment; provoking him serves
absolutely no constructive purpose!"
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Mulder," Randolph apologized contritely.
"It's DOCTOR Scully! And I'd appreciate it if you and your men
would wrap up whatever it is you have left here to do, and get
the hell out of my home so my husband and I can have some peace
and quiet and try to pull ourselves together!" There was just so
much she could take. She was worried for her child's life and
had little faith in the abilities of this small-town detective
and his backwater police force to be of any help whatsoever in
solving the case. They had no idea what Adam was, or what kind
of people might have taken him.
"Dr. Scully, I still need to take a statement from you, but maybe
it would be better to wait until morning. We have the recent
photograph of Adam that your husband provided, and a description
of what the boy was last seen wearing; I suppose that's all we
really need to get started. We'll leave you for now, as long as
you promise to make yourselves available in the morning."
"We'll be here," Mulder muttered the assurance, refusing to make
eye contact with either of the detectives who were studying his
every move.
Scully didn't wait for the formalities; she needed to get some
air.
* * * *
Long after the police had gone, Mulder stood alone in a house
that screamed with silence. He watched Scully through the big
picture windows that overlooked the backyard. For hours she'd
been sitting in an Adirondack chair on the deck, staring
pensively out at the strip of beach where Adam had been playing
just before he disappeared. She hadn't spoken a word since her
angry outburst in front of the detectives. She didn't have to
say anything. Mulder knew what was in her heart. She was
furious with him for letting her down. She'd trusted him with
that which was most precious to her, and he'd failed her in a way
he could never expect Scully to forgive.
He'd never forgive himself.
All afternoon he'd been replaying those last images of his son
innocently chasing seagulls along the shoreline. One minute he
was there, happy and full of all the wonder and mischief that
little boys his age possess in such abundance, and the next...
gone.
Adam was gone.
Those big blue eyes that reminded him so much of Scully's... The
small hands that reached up to grasp his when they went walking
together... The bright smiles and joyful laughter that had
transformed his and Scully's discontented existence... The hugs
and kisses bestowed by one whose love was given
unconditionally... all gone.
Adam had been the realization of an impossible dream for both of
them, the hope that they could have something resembling a normal
life together. They'd been fooling themselves, of course. With
the entire universe conspiring against them, it was a wonder
they'd had as long as they did to be a family and enjoy life's
simple pleasures. They'd cheated destiny for a brief moment of
happiness... but they'd paid dearly for their transient victory.
For a few more heartbreaking minutes, Mulder watched his wife,
the bleakness from within her casting a deathly pallor and a
solemn shadow over her lovely features. He couldn't stand seeing
her this way. Empty. Defeated. Knowing he was to blame. He
had to do something - whatever he could - to give her hope.
The local cops weren't going to be of any help finding Adam;
Scully knew that as well as he did. If there was any chance at
all of getting their son back, they needed to be looking in
places that weren't supposed to exist. The Consortium was not
dead. There had been setbacks; but like an ugly cancer, as long
as a few cells remained, the disease would continue - returning
even more deadly than before. The remnants of the syndicate
would have connections to the aliens... turn the right screws and
- maybe - they'd get their boy back.
A case like this required investigators with open minds... and
access.
He'd call Skinner.
* * * *
He was watching her.
Scully didn't have to turn around to know that her husband was
studying her with concern through the window glass. She could
feel his presence. Years ago she would have denied such an
ability, but it was something she'd simply come to accept now.
She first realized their unique connection the day Mulder had
been abducted; knowing he was gone even before she'd been
delivered the fateful news. While he was gone, she could sense
his suffering; at times she could have sworn she heard him
calling out her name. She supposed if she were going to have a
psychic connection with anyone, Mulder would be the obvious
candidate. Their lives had become so intricately woven and
explicitly co-dependent in their seven years of partnership, that
even back then she'd thought of him mostly as an extension of
herself.
And now she could feel him there watching her... wondering...
worrying... blaming himself. She tried to feel bad for lashing
out at him. But she was empty inside. Dead. She couldn't feel
any emotion at all. Rationally, Scully understood she was in a
state of shock, the human body's natural response to trauma. Yet
a part of her couldn't help questioning if she'd finally reached
the end of her rope. There was only so much a person could take,
after all.
A child gone missing. When she worked for the Bureau, Scully had
seen this heartbreak many times; but always from the outside,
from her clinical role as an investigator. Then, she could only
imagine what a nightmare it must have been for the parents - to
not know what had become of their child. To have to carry on
with their lives, wondering...
Now the nightmare was hers and Mulder's.
The blue sky had dimmed to a bleak gray. It would be getting
dark soon. Adam was afraid of the dark. Wherever he was,
whoever had taken him, Scully hoped he wouldn't be left in the
dark. She remembered the times she'd been taken hostage...
stuffed in the lightless confines of a car's trunk... tied up and
imprisoned in a pitch black closet... blind and helpless... Adam
would be so scared. She prayed he wasn't being mistreated. Of
course she knew, from her FBI training and years of field
experience, those who would abduct a child were by their very
nature cruel. She'd autopsied the defiled and mutilated remains
of enough young victims to testify to that cold fact. At least
Adam wasn't in the hands of a pedophile or a serial killer -
Sweet Jesus, she hoped not anyway. She felt sick at the
thought...
No. Scully shook her head, clearing the unwelcome images that
had flooded her imagination to torment her. Whoever took Adam
more than likely had an interest in keeping him alive. That was
at least something for which she could be grateful. As long as
he was alive, there was a chance they might get him back. And as
long as there was a chance, she and Mulder would NEVER give up
the search.
* * * *
Assistant Director Walter Skinner had been sympathetic and
immediately accommodating, offering the Bureau's assistance even
before Mulder could ask for the favor. Mulder hung up the phone
with a slight sense of relief, knowing that 'real' help was on
the way. He hoped the news that the FBI would be arriving first
thing in the morning would ease Scully's mind and boost her
spirits a bit too.
He found her in Adam's room, wearing a desolate expression, tears
streaming down her cheeks as she stared sadly at their son's
empty bed. Mulder's heart ached to near breaking. He took a few
tentative steps toward her, unsure if she would accept comfort
from him.
As soon as she felt his presence, Scully tried to compose
herself. She wiped her face, sniffed, and straightened her
posture.
Mulder stopped, holding back, fearful of her rejection.
"I came in here to say good night to him," she explained in a
small, flat voice, resolved to control her emotions. "He won't
ever go to sleep without at least three hugs and a half dozen
kisses..." Her voice broke on the last word and she started to
cry all over again, harder this time, despite her determination.
Mulder couldn't stand it anymore; he pulled her into his arms and
held her tight, offering what consolation he could.
"How's he going to get to sleep tonight, Mulder?" she asked him
through her sobs. "Where is he? Who the hell took him? What if
they're hurting him? God, all I can think about is what those
butchers did to poor Gibson! What they put him through... And
Emily - Mulder, these bastards haven't an ounce of compassion!"
"Dana -" he rarely called her that, even now that they were
married, but sometimes he needed to. "It's okay. He's not
suffering right now."
She looked up at him, confused, but wanting to believe. "How do
you know that?"
Mulder shook his head; he couldn't explain it. "I don't know how
I know; I just do."
It was an odd feeling, somewhere in the back of his
consciousness; he couldn't quite bring it to the forefront and
see it clearly, but Mulder felt certain Adam was not in any pain.
The aliens weren't hurting his son - not yet... and if his
prayers were answered, not ever. "Look," he cupped Scully's face
in his hands and held her eyes with his as he spoke. "I called
Skinner. He'll be here with a team first thing in the morning."
"You're bringing the Bureau in?"
Mulder was sure he heard a measure of relief in her voice. He
nodded. "You know this is more than just a simple kidnapping.
The evidence alone suggests it's beyond the capabilities of local
law enforcement."
"The footprints." She pictured her little boy walking barefoot
along the shoreline... unaware of the horrible fate awaiting him
just ahead. Mulder's hands tightening anxiously on her cheeks
brought her attention back to him; she met his worried eyes.
"You believe me, don't you, Scully?" She HAD to believe this
time.
Scully took his hands away from her face. "Of course I do. But
it doesn't matter, Mulder. The tide destroyed the crime scene,
all the evidence washed away."
Mulder held resolutely to what he believed happened out on that
beach. "But I saw it, Scully! I know! THEY took him!"
"No." She shook her head firmly, unwilling to accept it.
"Mulder you're making a huge assumption."
"How else do you explain what I saw then? The tracks just ended,
with no other signs to indicate he'd been approached."
"Were the footprints right at the water's edge?"
He already knew what she was thinking. "Yes, but-"
"Well, then maybe he did go into the water. Maybe he wasn't
taken at all."
Mulder could understand why it was easier for her to accept Adam
as drowned - the lesser of two evils. But he also knew what he
saw. Adam did not go into the water. He went up.
"Scully -"
She cut him off with her typical logic. "It was broad daylight.
If there'd been UFO activity in the area, someone would have
reported it. We don't live in the woods of Oregon, or out in the
middle of the desert somewhere! This is The Vineyard, for god
sake, Mulder! There are people everywhere! YOU were only a
hundred yards away when it happened!"
He struggled with that. "Maybe I was affected somehow."
"No!" She flatly refused to allow the possibility.
Mulder sighed, and tried once more to get through to her.
"Sweetheart, I know you don't want to believe this. But you've
read my interview notes. This kind of thing is not unheard of.
Others have been taken in the middle of the day - with family
members nearby who never saw a thing." For the briefest of
moments, Mulder thought Scully was going to continue to resist;
but then she slumped in his arms, defeat echoing within her small
frame. A look of despair accompanied her surrender.
"They'll hurt him, Mulder." His body muffled her horrified
whisper.
He clutched her as tight as he dared, pressing one kiss after
another into her silky hair. "I know," he muttered sorrowfully.
"I know."
* * * *
~ Chapter 3 ~
327 Tisbury Lane Martha's Vineyard, Massachusetts Tuesday, June
6, 2006 8:00 AM
Walter Skinner felt more than a little regret that this was the
first time he was visiting the home of his two former agents.
Despite the fact that he thought of them as his friends, he'd
only seen them a handful of times since they'd officially gone
civilian. He'd attended their baby's christening, served as best
man at their wedding, had dinner with them the night before they
moved to Massachusetts... but other than that, his only contact
with Mulder and Scully had been via their annual exchange of
Christmas cards.
Maybe his reluctance to accept their numerous invitations to
visit was, on some level, an expression of his disagreement with
their decision to leave the Bureau. He was none too happy about
losing his best pair of field agents - especially considering how
vital their work seemed to be. If there was a way he could have
refused their resignations, he would have. But they were
determined to take their baby and move away - settling themselves
into small town life - hoping to be forgotten by their enemies.
Skinner had argued with them that they were still needed, that
the fight was far from over. But they wouldn't hear it. They
wanted out; and both of them were too damn stubborn to listen to
reason.
Unfortunately, while Mulder and Scully were off playing house
together, their crusade had been abandoned. The dark forces and
shadow types within the government now went about their business
unchecked; a fact that had caused the assistant director many
sleepless nights. He often wondered how Mulder and Scully slept,
knowing everything they know - did they feel like deserters for
walking away? Maybe someday he would ask them, but not today...
Squaring his shoulders and setting his jaw, Skinner prepared
himself to enter what was sure to be an intensely emotional
situation. He pressed the buzzer and waited. When the door
finally opened, an exhausted-looking Fox Mulder stood before him,
unshaven, dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans and a well-worn
gray T-shirt. He looked like he'd been to hell and back. But
after the way he sounded last night on the phone, Skinner hadn't
expected anything else.
"Come on in," Mulder said flatly, pushing the screen door open so
his former boss could enter.
Skinner accepted the invitation with a nod, letting Mulder lead
him wordlessly through a very comfortable looking home, and back
outside again onto a large deck with a spectacular oceanfront
view. The impressive scenery faded into the background, however,
when Skinner's eyes caught sight of the woman seated on the steps
that led from the deck to the beach. Hands wrapped around a mug
of coffee, Dana Scully stared out at the sea, lost in thought.
Wearing a long black sundress, flaming hair pinned up loosely in
the back; her beauty instantly struck him. He'd never seen her
look this delicate and overtly feminine. It was a far cry from
the tough as nails and strictly business persona of Special Agent
Dana Scully. She was stunning. It was almost impossible not to
stare.
She responded immediately when her husband called to her,
snapping out of whatever daydream she was lost in, making her way
over to them solemnly.
"Good Morning, Walter. Thanks for coming here so quickly."
Up close her beauty was flawed by the effects of a sleepless
night, despite her carefully applied makeup. And though she was
holding herself together quite well at the moment, it was obvious
she'd been recently crying.
"I've got my best team on the way," Skinner tried to reassure
her. He'd pulled two of his top agents off another assignment out
in Arizona; they'd be arriving within the hour. Even at that,
Skinner felt he should be doing more. "I'm very sorry this
happened," he told her.
Concentrating on the cup in her hands, Scully drew a shaky
breath. Her whispered, "Thank you," barely audible.
In the awkward silence that followed, the noise of the nearby
surf took over the conversation for an uncomfortable stretch of
time. Skinner watched helplessly as his friends struggled to keep
their frayed emotions from completely unraveling in front of him.
"Would you like some coffee, Walter?" Scully asked, abruptly
pulling herself out of her somber introspection.
"I'd love some - thanks." It was damn hard seeing them hurting
and not knowing exactly how to respond. He wanted to hug them
both, promise them that everything would be all right, that
they'd get their boy back and they could resume the life they'd
made for themselves. But Skinner had never been comfortable with
that kind of physical demonstration; it just wasn't him. He told
himself they needed his help more than his weak attempts at
consolation. If he could give them a happy ending, none of the
rest would matter.
Scully made a move toward the house, but Mulder stopped her with
a gentle touch on her arm. "I'll get it, sweetheart," he told
her quietly.
She thanked him with weary eyes.
When she and Skinner were alone, Scully gestured to one of the
wooden lounge chairs. "Have a seat."
He accepted the hospitality, watching her prop herself tiredly
against the deck rail. "Mulder filled me in last night on what
happened." He repositioned himself so the bright morning sun
wasn't hitting him in the face. "I've already contacted the
local authorities and informed them that the Bureau will be
getting involved in this one."
"I'm afraid we haven't exactly endeared ourselves to the police
detective investigating the case," Scully confessed sheepishly.
She fixed him with a troubled, blue-eyed stare, and sighed.
"Mulder believes that Adam may have been abducted by aliens."
Skinner removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose,
trying to stave off a headache. He was afraid of something like
this. The local official in charge of the case had been less
than flattering in his comments about Mulder. The detective
would not have been so quick to judge Mulder a crackpot if he'd
seen some of the things Skinner had. Six years had passed since
Oregon, yet the image of that ship lifting off - taking his
friend away - was still horrifically vivid in the assistant
director's mind. It changed his life. But just because he
believed now, didn't mean Skinner was willing to accept Mulder's
assertion of alien involvement in Adam's disappearance without
corroborating evidence. "What do you think happened, Scully?"
Shaking her head, Scully gave a noncommittal shrug. She didn't
want to offer a theory, didn't want to think about it. But when
Skinner's steady gaze refused to let her hide behind her pain,
she relented. "Mulder says Adam's tracks just stopped. But his
footprints were close to the water's edge. It's possible he
could have gone into the ocean to swim... got caught in the
tow... It's fairly strong about twenty yards out, where the shelf
drops off."
Sighing, Skinner replaced his glasses, looking out for a moment
at the turbulent waves. He had to agree with Scully. A simple
drowning, while tragic, was a likely possibility, considering the
facts as they were. Of course, Mulder would never accept that -
no way in hell. Not unless by some miracle the boy's body were
to wash ashore. Scully surprised him with her next words.
"I don't believe he drowned," she said softly. "I believe Adam
was taken... because of what he is. Our son was born a pawn in a
cruel game. We've tried our best to protect him and still give
him something of a normal life; always living with the fear that
he might one day be taken from us... Now we have to live with
the guilt that we brought a child into this world knowing his
destiny would forever be fraught with danger - knowing that HE
suffers for our selfishness."
Exiting the house, Mulder caught the tail end of his wife's
comments. His blank expression remained unchanged, but the mug
of hot coffee wavered perilously as it was held out to Skinner.
Mulder quickly brought his other hand up to help steady the
offering, but not fast enough for his anxiety to escape notice.
* * * *
"Nice house," Joe Donaldson commented as he and his partner
parked in front of the address given to them by AD Skinner.
There'd been no complaints from either agent about the sudden
reassignment. The climate of the Northeast being a welcome
change over the hundred plus temperatures they'd been forced to
endure in Arizona the last two weeks. Donaldson's Nordic
ancestry had cursed him with fair skin. He felt like he was being
slowly cooked alive in Flagstaff.
"Yeah," Mitch Greenfield agreed. "I'm a little disappointed
though. I sort of figured Mr. and Mrs. Spooky would be living in
one of those old gothic Victorian's - you know, like the Adams'
Family house." He grinned. "Or like that mansion in Psycho."
"If Skinner hears you talking like that, he's gonna kick your
ass. Mulder and Scully are personal friends of his. Don't forget
that, partner."
Greenfield cut the engine. "Yeah, I know. Word is, that's why
he's never made it beyond assistant director."
"Oh, hell, I don't know about that." Donaldson shrugged. "There
are so many damn rumors..."
Nodding his agreement, the younger agent pondered the enigma of
the FBI's two most infamous and mysterious agents. "According to
Mulder's personnel file, the guy was always a maverick... always
breaking the rules. I don't know what to think of her though.
Seems like she was a good agent once upon a time."
"Before HE got a hold of her," Donaldson added, almost bitterly.
"Agent Scully's career took a nosedive after she was assigned to
the X-Files division."
Greenfield smoothed a hand over his perfectly combed, regulation
haircut, making sure every last strand of chestnut brown was in
its proper place. He flipped the visor mirror down and gave a
quick visual check, commenting as he adjusted his tie. "She was
assigned to rein him in. I don't get it. How does an
intelligent, levelheaded scientist-type like Dr. Dana Scully
become a faithful disciple of 'Spooky' Mulder? What the hell
happened to her?"
"L.O.V.E. That's what happened. She went head-over-heels for
old 'Spooky'. You know how women are. They fall all over
themselves for lucky bastards like Mulder - tall, dark and
trouble. She was willing to throw her career and reputation away
to protect him and to prove her loyalty." Donaldson shook his
head, disgusted. "It isn't much of a testament to Mulder's
integrity that he took advantage of a junior agent... not to
mention his disgraceful lack of professional conduct, bedding his
partner."
Greenfield nodded, flipping the sun visor back up, reassured that
his appearance was nothing less than impeccable - as always. "He
really went whacko when she got pregnant. Disappearing like
that... claiming he'd been abducted by aliens."
"I remember they had half the God damn Bureau out looking for him
for a while." Donaldson snorted. "Knocking up his partner...
Holy shit. It may not be part of his official record, but there
is no doubt in my mind the OPR was influential in Agent Mulder's
sudden resignation when he finally returned from 'outer space'."
"Those two had a hell of an impressive solve rate though, despite
their methodology. You ever work with them?" Greenfield asked,
perusing the neighborhood with well-trained eyes, prepared to
note anything suspicious.
Donaldson was doing the same, studying the homes and nearby
yards, assessing what might require a closer investigation. "No.
I thankfully never had the misfortune of getting tangled up in
one of their monster hunts." He paused, debating whether he
should even mention it. 'What the hell,' he thought, with an
inward shrug. 'Might as well come clean, just in case.' "I
talked to her once, but I doubt she'll remember me." His partner
shot him an inquiring look, urging the older agent to continue
the story. Donaldson allowed himself a chuckle as he recalled
the incident. "I was a dumbass rookie at the time. Full of
myself. Thinking I was the 'Real Deal' - a big, hotshot federal
agent. I was green. Didn't know the office scuttlebutt yet. To
me she was just this hot little redhead working in the DNA lab.
I had no idea she was even an agent."
Greenfield's eyes widened in astonishment. "Christ, Joe, you
didn't?"
"Hey, I said I was a newbie," Donaldson defended himself. He was
starting to have second thoughts about his decision to share this
particular bit of personal history.
"You put the moves on Mrs. Spooky?" Greenfield hooted with
laughter.
The senior agent frowned, his sunburned face darkening to an even
deeper shade of red. "It wasn't like that. I turned on the
charm a little, that's all." Donaldson glared at his partner who
continued to snicker. "ANYWAY... I was about to ask her out when
HE showed up. He gave me a death stare and moved into her
personal space so fast - scared the shit out of me. The way he
reacted, I thought she WAS his wife, for Christ sake. He never
said a single word to me, but I sure as hell got his message loud
and clear."
Greenfield sobered. "Well, she IS his wife now, so you better
hope he doesn't remember you, partner."
After he considered it for a minute, Donaldson waved off the
possibility. "Naw... It was a long time ago." He reached for
the door handle, noticing that one of the cars in the driveway
was a rental. "Come on. It looks like the boss man is already
here."
They showed their badges to her when she opened the door, along
with the customary introduction. "I'm Special Agent Joe
Donaldson and this is my partner Special Agent Mitch Greenfield."
Scully nodded at the two men. And although she didn't smile, her
expression was still as welcoming as could be expected under the
circumstances. "I'm Dana Scully, please come in Agents."
Most of Donaldson was relieved that Scully didn't seem to
recognize him - even if his ego might have liked her to remember
their brief encounter. As she led the way though the house,
Donaldson took the opportunity to admire her shapely curves,
intrigued by the way her dress clung provocatively in all the
right places. His eyes wandered up and down her figure, noting
everything from the wisps of auburn hair that played against the
creamy slope of her neck to the sculpting of her well-toned
calves, even the sexy red polish she wore painted on her toes. A
twinge of resentment poked at Donaldson as he considered what
might have happened if Mulder hadn't interrupted that day in the
DNA lab. If he'd had five more minutes alone with her...
Donaldson's daydream came to a screeching halt when he found
himself standing out on a deck in the backyard, being scrutinized
by the devil himself - 'Spooky' Mulder. Skinner was there too,
and both men stood up as Scully made the introductions.
"Agents, this is my husband Fox Mulder. Mulder this is Joe
Donaldson and his partner Mitch Greenfield."
Mulder immediately extended his hand to both agents, but his hard
and focused stare never left Donaldson. "Have we met before?" he
asked, perplexed.
Greenfield snickered under his breath and Donaldson shot him a
dirty look. "I don't believe so, Mr. Mulder."
"Your face is really familiar. I'm sure that I know you from
somewhere." Mulder frowned. Rarely did his eidetic memory fail
him. "It'll come to me," he muttered, mostly to himself.
"You probably passed me a few times over the years. I've been
with the DC Bureau for a while now." Donaldson smiled politely
and tried to put the issue behind them.
Mulder's eyes narrowed. "No... I don't think that's it." He
turned to his wife for help. "Scully, do you remember Agent
Donaldson?"
After a quick study of the face of the man in question, she shook
her head. "No. Can't say that I do."
Donaldson certainly wasn't going to stand around and wait for
them to figure it out. "Why don't we get started?" he suggested.
"I'd like to interview you both separately, if you don't have
any objections."
"There's really no reason to do this by the book. Scully and I
are well aware of the information you need," Mulder protested.
"It'll go faster if we cut out the formalities."
Joe Donaldson was not the kind of man who put up with people
stepping on his toes. This was HIS case. He wasn't about to let
Fox Mulder, of all people, tell him how to proceed. "If you
don't mind - MISTER - Mulder, we'd like to do this our way. My
partner and I haven't found FBI regulations to be a hindrance to
our work yet."
The muscles in Mulder's jaw tightened, and for a tense moment
both men just stared at each other. Eventually, it was Mulder
who backed down. "Suit yourself," he huffed, clearly put off by
Donaldson's superior attitude.
"This is going to be interesting," Scully muttered to herself.
* * * *
While Donaldson was interviewing Mulder, Skinner and Greenfield
set to the task of canvassing the neighborhood and searching the
beach for any clues the police might have overlooked. Left
alone, Scully used the time to phone her mother and break the
news of Adam's disappearance.
It was an extremely difficult conversation.
"Hello," Maggie's cheerful voice answered after only one ring.
"Mom, It's Dana."
"Honey, how are you? I was just thinking of you and realizing
it's been weeks since we talked."
Scully closed her eyes, imagining her mother's smiling face.
God, she didn't want to do this. "Um... I'm not so good,
actually." She took a deep breath, held it for a heartbeat, then
let it out in one big sigh before continuing. "Something's
happened, Mom... something awful."
"My God, Dana, what is it?"
"It's Adam. He's missing." She braced herself for her mother's
reaction, biting her trembling lip when she heard the gasp on the
other end of the line.
"Oh no... My God! Honey, when... when did this happen?"
"He disappeared off the beach yesterday afternoon..." Scully
went on to explain, trying her best not to fall apart, but only
half succeeding.
Once she'd heard the whole story and recovered from the initial
shock, Margaret Scully was ready to pack a bag and take the next
available flight to be with her daughter and son-in-law in their
time of crisis. "As soon as I hang up I'll make arrangements to
fly up there, honey."
As much as Scully would have loved to slip into the role of
child, retreating to her mother's care, she couldn't allow
herself the luxury. There were parts of her life that must
necessarily be kept secret. From the very beginning they'd told
her mother only what she needed to know; Adam's safety was an
issue because of factors related to their work on the X-Files.
Whatever evil had befallen Adam, Scully wanted her mother as far
from it as possible. "No, Mom... I appreciate the offer, but
Mulder and I can handle this. There's no reason for you to come
up here. There's really nothing you can do. The police and the
FBI are doing everything possible. Mulder and I just have to
wait."
"I'll wait with you," Maggie insisted.
"There's no need," Scully tried.
"You don't need me?" The hurt in Maggie's voice was more than
evident.
Scully found herself backpedaling, losing ground. The last thing
she wanted to do was fight with her mother right now. "No,
Mom... I didn't mean it like that-"
"I only want to help, Dana." Tears were seeping into her words.
"Yes. I know." Scully sighed. How the hell was she supposed to
cope with this on top of everything else? Dropping her head into
her hand, the receiver pressed tight against her ear, Scully
absorbed her mother's hurting, letting it mix with her own until
the weight threatened to crush her.
After years of being kept in the dark, Maggie had resigned
herself to a begrudging acceptance of her daughter's
sometimes-mysterious behavior. But she still let it be known
that she resented being shut out, especially at a time like this
when she knew how much her support was needed. "You and Fox are
always so private... so secretive. I'm your mother, Dana. I
don't appreciate being excluded from your life. I know you're
not telling me everything. For what reason this time, I'm afraid
to even hazard a guess. I thought you put all of that behind you
when you left the FBI." Her Irish temper took a firm hold.
"Damn it! Adam is my grandson! I love him too! I WANT to be
there!" Maggie's tears were fueled by her outrage.
"I know." Scully choked back a sob of her own. She hated being
in this position, having to distance herself from her family in
order to protect them. It wasn't fair to anyone. The X-Files
continued to exact a toll on her life long after she'd left the
work behind. "Mom, I appreciate that this is difficult for you.
But until we know more... I'd really rather you stay in DC.
Please try to understand... I'll call you if anything changes. I
promise."
There was a long pause before Maggie said anything. When she did
finally speak, it was with restraint, all warmth gone from her
voice. "Very well, Dana. I won't come up there if you don't want
me to. Please give Fox my love. I expect that you'll call, as
you say, when you know more."
"I will, Mom. I'll call the minute we hear anything." Her
mother didn't bother to say goodbye before she hung up. And
though Scully had ultimately won the battle - she couldn't help
but feel as if she was very close to losing the war.
Mulder entered the bedroom just as his wife put down the
telephone. "Who was that?" he asked, concerned about the stress
plainly written on her face. He sat down on the edge of the bed
beside her.
"I called Mom," Scully told him tiredly. "If Donaldson and
Greenfield are doing this by the book, they might interview
family members. I didn't want her to find out from a couple of
strangers with badges that her grandson is missing."
Scully moved her head slowly from side to side, attempting to
alleviate some of the tension in her neck and shoulders. Her
husband didn't miss his cue. His strong fingers began to knead
at the stiffness, massaging her taut muscles. She closed her
eyes and allowed him to work away a little of her stress.
"Mmm... Thank you," she hummed. "That's good... yeah, right
there. Ohhh..."
Mulder moved closer, his warm breath tickling her ear. He spoke
in that low, seductive tone of his that always melted right
through her.
"As soon as we get rid of our company, you're going to take a
long, hot bath; and then I'm putting you back to bed." He
punctuated his words with a tender kiss - just the tip of his
tongue snaking out to trace the curve of her ear.
She pulled away immediately, opening her eyes and turning to face
him. "I can't sleep." Maybe it was a trick of the light, but
Mulder looked ten years older than he had the morning before.
He studied her face too, troubled by what he saw. "Scully, if
you're not up to talking to Agent Donaldson -"
"I'm fine," she interrupted, refusing to acknowledge her
exhaustion for fear it would defeat her.
He frowned, but let her get away with the lie. "Look, if
Donaldson gets out of line with his questions, don't be afraid to
tell him to fuck off."
"That bad, huh?"
He nodded grimly, unable to mask the residual resentment left
over from the interview. "Let's just say I've been interrogated
by terrorists who were more sympathetic."
Scully's sigh came from deep within this time. "Great," she
quipped. "I can hardly wait."
* * * *
"Ms. Scully, I apologize in advance for the questions I'm about
to ask you," Donaldson began, "but I assure you they are very
necessary to the course of this investigation."
Scully sat up attentively, hands folded neatly in her lap. She
was prepared for the worst after Mulder's comments, but trying to
be open to the process. "I understand," she said quietly.
Scully had chosen to sit in Mulder's favorite chair - a big
overstuffed leather recliner. It was silly, but it made her feel
stronger somehow, and protected; the same feeling that drew her
to sleep in his bed during those terrible months when he'd been
missing. Donaldson sat across the living room on the couch.
"Ms. Scully, did your husband have a good relationship with your
son?"
Okay, that was a fair question, she supposed. Ruling her and
Mulder out as potential suspects was necessary, and certainly
well within bounds. As a former investigator herself, she knew
this was just procedure; she shouldn't take these questions
personally. "Yes. They ARE very close." She refused to speak of
Adam in the past tense.
"How close?"
Scully frowned. "Appropriately close."
"Has your husband ever hurt Adam, or threatened him in any way?"
She kept her voice low and even. "Never."
"Have you ever been concerned that he MIGHT hurt your son?"
Patience, tolerance, easy, easy, Dana... don't feed him anything
negative. "No."
Even though she knew these questions were routine, Scully found
herself reacting involuntarily. She could feel the fine edges of
her tolerance sifting away, and had to concentrate hard to hold
herself in check; fearing the interrogation would take a
disastrous turn if she let this idiot get to her.
"What's his mood been like lately? Has he been depressed or
seemed particularly agitated to you? Is he having any
difficulties sleeping? Anything that's given you cause to worry
that something might be troubling him?"
If she told the truth, this nonsense would only perpetuate.
Besides, her concerns about Mulder had nothing to do with Adam's
disappearance.
"He's been fine," she lied, hoping Donaldson hadn't noticed her
slight hesitation before giving her answer. The agent's cold
blue eyes studied her for a moment, taking in her body language.
She tried not to look guilty, meeting his steady gaze with her
own. When he glanced down at her hands, now nervously smoothing
her dress, she forced herself to stop. She cursed herself
silently for revealing her anxiety and giving him reason to doubt
her honesty.
"Has your husband ever been physically violent toward you? Or
threatened you?"
Wonderful. Now he was looking for a motive for her lie.
"Absolutely not," she told him with unwavering conviction.
"Any recent difficulties in your personal relationship?
Arguments?"
Scully's eyes narrowed, just a little. Donaldson didn't notice
that change in them; but if he'd known her at all, he would have
found himself proceeding with a bit more caution and
objectiveness.
"No. Agent Donaldson, I assure you, there is no trouble in our
home."
He nodded, and then glanced down at his notes, taking a moment to
compose his thoughts. Scully was certain the line of questioning
was going to change now, but she mistakenly thought that she
would welcome that change. She was stunned and outraged when
Donaldson went even further into her and Mulder's personal
relationship with his next inquiry.
"Again, I apologize for having to ask questions of such a private
nature... but it's documented that he disappeared while you were
pregnant -"
She didn't let him go any further, having a fairly good idea
where this line of questions was leading. "He wasn't aware of my
condition at the time, and his disappearance was not voluntary.
I don't like what you're implying, Agent Donaldson. My husband
is a good and decent man, and we are very happily married."
"I'm certain that you are, Ms. Scully. I didn't mean to offend
you."
If the look of humility on the agent's face was meant to pacify
her, it failed miserably. Scully wasn't buying it, not a bit.
"I suppose there's no easy way to ask some of these questions,"
Donaldson made a production of a sigh. "I'll just get to the
point. Was he pleased about becoming a father? Did he want the
baby?"
Scully could feel her face darkening. Now she understood why
Mulder had instructed her to tell Donaldson to 'fuck off' if he
pushed too far. And she was sorely tempted to do just that; but
she didn't want to give this asshole the impression there was any
shade of truth to his suspicions. So instead of lashing out
defensively, Scully chose to remain calm and throw Donaldson off
with a question of her own. "And how exactly is that relevant?"
The agent cleared his throat. "I'm trying to establish motive."
Motive? Scully couldn't believe this idiot. "My husband did not
harm our son!" She hadn't meant to raise her voice, but her
patience was just about gone. So much for calm.
"That's what I'm trying to determine." Donaldson shifted
uncomfortably under her threatening glare. "Are you aware that
he believes Adam was taken by ALIENS?"
"Yes," she answered, matter-of-factly.
"And this doesn't trouble you?"
With an inaudible sigh, Scully held what was left of her patience
steady. Somehow she managed to reply calmly and evenly. "Not
everyone believes in the same things, Agent Donaldson. Just
because you doubt the existence of extraterrestrial life, it
doesn't give you the right to judge those with a differing point
of view."
Tossing his notes onto the coffee table, Donaldson leaned back
against the cushions of the couch rather smugly. "Ms. Scully, a
little over a year ago I investigated a case where three small
children had vanished, the mother claiming men from space came
down and took her children away while they were sleeping."
Scully nodded, aware of his tactic and determined to waylay him
before he got there. "Theodora Johnson, Dyersburg, Tennessee."
There wasn't an abduction case, real or bogus, that she and
Mulder weren't privy to these days. When you had as many
connections within 'the network' as they did, you heard mention
of everything eventually. This case had been especially
disturbing in its tragedy; it wasn't something Scully was likely
to forget anytime soon.
He was surprised. "You know of the case?"
Scully nodded. "I wish I didn't." She tried to banish the image
of those poor children from her mind. Her years as a federal
agent had hardened her somewhat, but there were still scenes that
refused to be viewed with a clinical eye. The violent and
barbaric slaying of three innocent children by their own mother
was certainly one of them. "Agent Donaldson, my husband is not
mentally ill, as was the unfortunate situation with Mrs.
Johnson."
"But he does have a medical profile which includes stays in more
than one hospital ward for the purpose of psychological
evaluation and treatment. And his emotional stability
has been questionable on numerous occasions during his tenure
with the Bureau; it says so right in his file. He's attacked
other agents - including a Bureau accounting auditor; he attacked
Assistant Director Skinner. He attacked a suspect - a Mr. Duane
Barry - and may have been responsible for his death. There was
also some question about a body found, shot in the face at point
blank range, in Agent Mulder's apartment. These all seem to be
incidents where stress triggered aggressive violent behavior in
your husband. Therefore, I believe I'm justified in pursuing
this avenue of investigation based on what I already know about
the suspect's past history."
The last of Scully's dwindling tolerance finally disappeared.
This wasn't an investigation. Donaldson was building a case
against Mulder! He was setting up a profile of a mentally
unstable, and at times violent man, whose crime might have been
motivated by the resentment of a child he never really wanted.
"This is ridiculous! He was never charged in any of the
incidents you mentioned! My husband is perfectly sane! He's
certainly not violent! And he loves our son!" She was seething
with anger.
"You believe he loves you too, do you not?" Donaldson asked
calmly.
This idiot just did not know when to quit. "I KNOW he does."
Despite the thunder in her tone, Donaldson pressed on, undaunted.
"Tell me, Ms. Scully, has he ever pulled a gun on you?"
Shit! Shitshitshit! This son of a bitch had obviously missed
his calling. He should have been a goddamn prosecuting attorney.
She hadn't even seen that coming. Scully looked down at her
hands, which were trembling now as she tried to figure a way out
of this trap.
"Well, Ms. Scully?"
Half a dozen responses ran through her mind but only one seemed
appropriate. She stood, very purposefully, looking Donaldson
straight in the eye. And very calmly gave her reply.
"Fuck off."
Interview over.
* * * *
"Sir, with all due respect, if Donaldson and Greenfield are the
best agents under your command, then I think we'd do just as well
with the local PD." Scully was trying very hard to contain her
fury after her dialogue with Donaldson. It had taken a concerted
effort for her to simply walk away from the interview without
giving that bastard the verbal lashing she felt he was due. As
it was, she felt certain her antagonistic parting comment to the
insolent agent would only further his ambitions to prove himself
right.
"I realize their methods are a little rigid, but they have
exemplary records and a solve rate well above the Bureau average.
The question of Mulder's innocence is just a routine matter; you
know that. He'll be quickly cleared," Skinner tried to assure
her.
"But they're wasting time! Damn it, it's been almost twenty-four
hours since Adam was taken! This may be a routine matter for
them, but it isn't for us!" She couldn't stop herself from
pacing around the living room as she spoke. Scully wanted to be
doing something - ANYTHING! They'd already wasted too much
precious time. Adam was out there somewhere, frightened,
possibly hurting, in a potentially life-threatening situation,
and no one was actually LOOKING for him yet!
"Why didn't you send us your X-Files team?" Mulder put in
bluntly. He was sitting on the fireplace hearth, elbows resting
on his knees, fingers steepled thoughtfully.
Scully couldn't fathom how he was staying so calm considering the
police and FBI were all but accusing him of murdering their son.
"This case requires agents open to extreme possibilities," he
insisted. "Where's John Doggett? Why isn't he here?"
"I'm sorry. I thought you knew." There was no mistaking the
regret in Skinner's eyes. "The X-Files division was shut down
four years ago. Deputy Director Kersh reassigned Agent Doggett
right after you two left the Bureau. He coordinates the Special
Squads unit now. Anyway... the new agents who were allocated to
the X-Files were wholly ineffective - they couldn't handle the
job. Hell, they were rookies who barely made it through the
Academy - a couple of screw- ups hand picked by Kersh to fail.
After their first year, a review panel reassigned them to other
divisions and closed the X-Files for good."
"And you just let it happen?" Mulder was incredulous.
The AD didn't mince words. "Without Fox Mulder and Dana Scully
the X-Files are nothing but a collection of unsolvable cases that
nobody wants to be burdened with."
"Figures." Scully didn't bother to hide her disgust. She and
Mulder had put their lives and reputations on the line time and
again for the X-Files. It hurt to know that something they'd
fought so hard for would die without their continued sacrifice.
"I know you don't care for the way this case is being handled,
but the FBI currently does not have an investigative unit
qualified to pursue your son's disappearance more effectively. I
gave you the best agents I have."
Skinner looked right at Scully when he said it. The son of a
bitch was using her own words against her.
"I want back in."
Scully's mouth dropped open at Mulder's unexpected declaration.
"Mulder!" She stared at him, flabbergasted.
He shot her a pleading look, desperate eyes begging her to
understand. "Both of us! Give us the X-Files again! Let US
investigate Adam's disappearance with the resources and the
authority of the FBI to back us up." Mulder was standing now,
coming alive as he made an impassioned plea to his former boss.
Skinner shook his head in frustration. "As much as I'd like to
see you both return to the Bureau, you know damn good and well I
wouldn't be able to get approval for you to investigate your own
son's disappearance."
"How do you know unless you try?" Scully put in, catching the
grateful look her husband threw her way. She couldn't believe
how badly she suddenly wanted this. When they left the Bureau
five years ago she'd felt nothing but relief, grateful to put
their dangerous lifestyle behind them. So why was the prospect
of returning now so appealing to her? God, what was the matter
with her? She needed her head examined!
"Mulder. Scully. What you're asking - it'll never be approved."
Skinner fought against his natural proclivity for sympathy toward
his friends, knowing he was acting in their best interest and
refusing to get their hopes up. But Mulder's frantic petition
grabbed at Skinner's heart.
"Call in favors, make threats, grease palms, kiss the Director's
ass if you need to. Do whatever or whoever you have to... just
get us back inside where we have access again!"
"Please, Sir," Scully added to her husband's appeal, for good
measure.
Skinner sighed, looking back and forth at their determined and
beseeching expressions. He couldn't believe he was even
entertaining the possibility. But how the hell was he supposed
to say no? "I'll see what I can do."
* * * *
~ Chapter 4 ~
"Scully, come on. Come to bed." He couldn't stand another
minute of her compulsive tidying; the closet and dressers, every
last drawer, had been sorted through and organized - and now she
was starting all over again. He knew it was her way of dealing
with the tension, but this just wasn't healthy. She had gone
beyond exhausted into that 'zombie zone' where the insomnia kicks
in and the mind forgets that the body requires sleep. He'd been
there so many times; Mulder knew what she needed was to let
herself relax, to get out of her head for awhile, surrender to
her fatigued body and let it take the rest it desperately needed.
It had been a long and difficult day for them both. Skinner's
fair- haired boys had only added to their stress and frustration.
And now, on top of everything else, they were on pins and
needles waiting to see if they'd get the X-Files back.
"I'm not tired yet. You get some sleep, Mulder. I'll come to
bed in a little while."
She pulled his old Knicks shirt out of the top drawer, frowned,
and refolded it again for the third time. This was getting
ridiculous! He had to stop her. "Hey, Scully, how about a
midnight snack? You always get sleepy after you eat a big meal.
I'm even offering to play chef. Anything you want - just name
it."
She shook her head, put the shirt away and grabbed another one
that didn't pass inspection. "Not hungry," she told him.
Scully hadn't touched a bite of dinner. In fact, the only thing
Mulder had seen her take in all day was coffee - and a lot of it.
Small wonder she couldn't settle down. If she continued this
way, without sleeping, without eating, pushing her body to its
limits, she was going to wind up in the hospital. Neither of
them needed that right now. "Scully, you haven't eaten or slept
in two days. You're going to make yourself sick." She kept
right on task, seemingly ignoring his concern. She was
concentrating so hard on her precision folding, Mulder wasn't
even sure if she heard him. He sighed. "I don't know... maybe
we should have let your mother come up after all."
She slammed the top drawer closed and opened the next one. "I
don't need my mother to take care of me, Mulder. I can handle
this! I AM handling this!"
"I'm sorry. I'm just worried about you." He was trying to
appease her, which he knew was a big mistake - yet Mulder didn't
know what else to do at the moment.
Another drawer slammed shut and she turned on him. "You
shouldn't be worrying about me! You should be worrying about our
son!"
Her words stung, and his temper flared in reaction. "Don't you
think I am? Christ, Scully, he's all I can think about!" Mulder
got up from the bed and confronted her, inserting himself between
his wife and the perfectly ordered bookshelf she had begun eyeing
with irritation. "Am I not suffering enough? Is that it?"
"Mulder -" Faced with his hurt and anger, she immediately
reached out to him, her voice soft and placating.
"No!" He rejected her attempt to soothe him. "Let's get this
out in the open, Scully. I know I fucked up! I was supposed to
be watching him! I fully accept the blame - one hundred percent
- my fault! But I'm not going to have you think for one minute
that what happened was because I'm somehow less concerned for
Adam's safety and well being than you! I love that child with
all my heart! Don't you think it's killing me, the fact that I
failed to protect him? I'm his father, Scully! My biggest
responsibility is to protect my family..." He started to
crumble, his voice hitching, the words sticking in throat. "I
was in charge... I was supposed to stop it from happening..." He
turned his back to her, hiding his shame and his tears. The room
got quiet; and then Mulder felt the gentle touch of his wife's
hand on his forearm, apologetically.
"Oh, God, Mulder. This is Samantha all over again for you, isn't
it? I'm sorry, honey. I didn't even think... God."
The sudden flood of emotions had Mulder's every nerve raw and
exposed, making his skin extra-sensitive to even the slightest
touch. When Scully stroked his arm lovingly, he felt it
everywhere, like a live current surging though his body. With
each light brush of her fingers, the electricity between them
grew. And when Scully pressed her body up against his and held
him close, Mulder couldn't help his noticeable reaction to the
stimulus. He needed her. He couldn't believe he was thinking of
sex at a time like this, but he needed her so badly. He knew
that sometimes, at the height of intense pain or grief, the need
for intimacy overrode everything else; such a vital connection at
that moment more powerful than at times of joy.
He had to have her; had to receive Scully's absolution as a
physical act because just knowing she still loved him was not
nearly enough to assuage his overwhelming sense of guilt. She
looked up into his tear- streaked face and his eyes pleaded with
her to pardon his sin. And Scully answered his unspoken petition
with an outpouring of merciful kisses, bestowing forgiveness with
each heated touch of her lips to his damp cheeks.
As his heart felt the first promise of healing, Mulder returned
her affection with tender kisses of his own, which quickly turned
passionate, driven by mutual neediness. And as the need
escalated past the gentleness, both of them cast aside their
usual soft slide into sensuality, and came together with raw
urgency.
Mulder's taking of her was desperate, frantic; he couldn't
undress Scully fast enough; couldn't waste time with buttons or
bra hooks or anything else that took precious seconds and stood
between his body and hers, skin on skin. He needed that
connection - needed it more than any attempt at sexual finesse.
He tore at her clothes and she wrestled him out of his, stumbling
backwards together toward the bed.
For a petite woman, Scully had always shown her strength as a
lover. >From their very first intimacy she'd revealed to him her
intrepid spirit. Mulder never felt he should hold back when they
made love, despite his much larger stature. He took what he
wanted and needed, and gave everything he had; Scully did the
same, and would have been furious with him if he'd loved her any
other way.
And since right now - right this minute - their hunger was
equally fierce, Mulder didn't bother with the preliminaries,
sinking himself deep into her as soon as they fell naked upon the
mattress. Her moan of pleasure echoed his at the sheer rightness
of it. He shoved trembling fingers into her hair and pulled her
head to the side, exposing the soft skin to the heat of his mouth
and the ache of his words...
"Jesus, baby, I need this - need you..." He groaned them as he
nibbled his way along the satiny slope of her shoulder; repeating
his need at the narrow ridge of collarbone and breathed the same
plea yet again as he moved up the sensitive side of her neck,
until he reached the curl of her outer ear. He nipped at the
tender skin of her lobe and then traced a soothing tongue over
the mark he left there; stamping himself on her in small
increments, as surely as he'd wended his way through seven years
of searching for, and then finding, her heart. And as he moved
within her, so much a part of her that he couldn't tell where her
flesh ended and his began...
Mulder fought to keep the tears from overpowering him; knowing
Scully would feel his pain as her own. He wanted her to forget,
if only for a little while - not caring that he couldn't lose
himself in the same way, enough to stop thinking about it - but
determined to make sure SHE did.
He pressed one last kiss against her ear, and raised his face to
gaze into her eyes, desperate to see the emotion swimming there
as their bodies worked together toward much-needed release. She
met him thrust for thrust, never losing eye contact as he
punctuated their taking and giving of each other with a fevered,
"Love you so, Scully... so much, more than you'll ever know..."
And she echoed the words back to him as she kept her eyes wide
open and focused on his face; as her arms tightened around his
shoulders and her legs coiled about his driving hips; determined
to make him forget for just a little while as well... knowing she
had succeeded when he shuddered hard against her and the shout he
sent into her throat blended with her soft cry of, "Mulder,
God...!"
And for a little while, they'd found a way to assuage some of the
pain, and the fear, and the knowledge that their lives might
never be the same.
* * * *
~Chapter 5~
Washington, DC Wednesday, June 7, 2006 FBI Headquarters 8:55 AM
About to be newly reinstated, Agent Fox Mulder and Agent Dana
Scully stepped off the elevator and made their way down the hall
toward the third floor bullpen, en route to the office of
Assistant Director Walter Skinner. They'd held hands on their
walk over from the Marriott; but now that they were inside the
Hoover Building, professionalism dictated a certain code of
behavior, regardless of the fact that these days they were
legally wed.
Mulder escorted Scully with a guiding hand at the small of her
back, an affectionate gesture that won him a sideways glance and
the hint of a smile from his partner/wife. They tried to ignore
the turning heads, whispers and stares that followed them through
every step of their journey from the moment they walked through
the employees entrance. But when they reached the bullpen and
found themselves the undeniable center of attention, it was
impossible to disregard the spectacle they'd become.
Mulder didn't know what was more unnerving - every eye being on
them, or the deafening silence that fell over the once bustling
room the second they were spotted. He couldn't stand it. He
just had to do something.
"We're baa-aack," Mulder chimed, purposely poking fun at their
'spooky' reputations before anyone else could. His attempt at
humor elicited a few nervous chuckles, and effectively shamed
most of the crowd into returning to their previous tasks.
Some of the older agents nodded and smiled as Mulder and Scully
passed, but generally speaking, it wasn't a warm reception. Not
that either of them expected one.
Some things never change...
Skinner's secretary greeted them with a friendly smile, letting
Mulder and Scully pass into the Assistant Director's office,
where she instructed them to wait for her boss who was still in a
meeting upstairs. As soon as the door was shut, Scully turned on
her husband, with fire in her eyes.
"Why do you DO things like that?" she demanded, her face flushed
with a combination of anger and embarrassment.
"What?" He was completely at a loss as to why she was suddenly
so furious. What the hell had he done?
"We're baa-aack," she repeated his words and intonation, her
irritation building at his complete lack of comprehension or
sensitivity.
Mulder laughed in spite of himself. He just couldn't help it.
Scully looked so cute trying to imitate him. Unfortunately, his
inability to contain his mirth only served to make her angrier.
Her blue eyes flamed hotter.
"Oh, come on, sweetheart. It was an icebreaker. Everyone was
staring at us. I had to do something." Mulder reached for her
but she moved out of his range, folding her arms over her chest
and turning a cold shoulder to his conciliatory attempt.
"We're the butt of enough jokes around here, Mulder. Oh...
that's right, you missed out on some of the very best ones,
didn't you?"
"I'm sorry, Scully."
It was the first time she'd given any indication as to what her
life had been like while he was gone. Mulder often wondered, but
never dared to ask. He knew there must have been plenty of
gossip flying around the Bureau when an unmarried Agent Scully
turned up pregnant - especially since there had always been the
rumors.
"This isn't easy for me, coming back here. You have no idea.
Please don't make facing our colleagues again any more
humiliating than it already is."
"Is that how you feel? Humiliated?"
"Mulder, you know what they think of us around here."
"Who the hell cares what they think, Scully? There will always
be assholes who spread lies, just as there will always be fools
who believe them." Mulder took two cautious steps toward his
wife, and reached a hand out to cradle the baby-soft skin of her
cheek. "All that matters, my love, is that you and I know the
truth."
"It doesn't bother you, being thought of as 'Spooky' Mulder?"
"It used to," he confessed. "But there's nothing I can do about
it. There are some things in life you just have to accept."
She nodded sadly, knowing he was right.
Mulder's fingertips traveled lightly over her porcelain
complexion, stopping to admire with absolute fascination the
beauty mark just above her upper lip. "Besides," he murmured
softly, "have you seen 'MRS. Spooky'?" That, and his wink,
provoked the start of a smirk on Scully's face. He ran with it,
wanting desperately to see her smile. "Now, 'Monster Boy', that's
a whole different story. It's just plain cruel, and so untrue."
"I don't know, Mulder, you can be pretty scary before that first
cup of coffee in the morning."
She was playing along now; this was good. "So you're the one who
started that nickname, huh?" He pretended a threatening look,
and won a full-fledged grin from his wife.
"I'm not saying a word," she teased.
Mulder was just starting to move toward her for a kiss, when
Skinner came through the door.
"Agents, have a seat," he said, regarding them with his stern
lets- get-down-to-business mask firmly in place from the get-go.
As soon as everyone was settled, the AD relayed the official
word. "Your temporary reassignment to the X-Files has been
approved on an emergency basis only... and with conditions."
"Which are?" Scully asked cautiously.
"For the time being you are only allowed to investigate the case
of your son's disappearance. And you must cooperate fully with,
and not impede in any way, the parallel investigation being
conducted by Agents Donaldson and Greenfield."
Mulder rolled his eyes. "I don't see the point in running two
separate investigations."
"Agent Mulder, as far as the FBI is concerned, you are still a
suspect. The only way I could get them to agree to this - and I
still can't believe that they did - was with the assurance that
the original team of agents would continue their investigation
until you are cleared of any suspicion."
"This is just bullshit!" Mulder fumed.
"Be that as it may, you're going to have to comply if you want
back in. I'd advise you to take what they're offering; it's the
best you're going to get under the circumstances."
"Fine." They really had no choice. "But you better warn
Donaldson to stay the hell out of my way."
Skinner had seen that look in Mulder's eyes before. And he knew,
all too well, the attitude that went along with it. "I strongly
suggest you give Agent Donaldson your full cooperation in this
matter... Don't fuck with him, Mulder; he's not going to take
it." He gave that some time to sink in before he continued.
"Your reinstatement is probationary. Your handling of this case
will be subject to a full panel review; and the outcome of that
evaluation will determine whether or not you will be allowed to
continue your work and ultimately reopen the X-Files."
Mulder was about to lash out again when, like old times, Scully
stepped in before he could hang himself.
"We're just here to find our son, Sir." The pain conveyed in her
softly spoken words instantly muted Mulder's temper... and sapped
the growing tensions from the room.
"I know that, Agent Scully. But you're going to have to mind the
rules if you want to stay in the game."
"Yes, Sir." Scully nodded her understanding.
Skinner looked to Mulder for his agreement as well. A begrudging
nod - but sincere. Good enough. "The basement is pretty much
how you left it. I ordered new PC's and phones; hopefully
they've already been installed. I told Systems to rush it. Let
Kimberly know if there's anything else you need to help you get
settled in."
"Thank you, Sir." Scully got up and followed after her partner
who was already halfway to the door, impatient to get started.
"Agents," Skinner called after them; and they turned in unison.
He took a moment to adjust to this sight - Agents Mulder and
Scully standing there in his office after so many years absent.
He wished the circumstances of their return could have been
different, but he couldn't say he wasn't thrilled to have them
under his command again. They were damn good agents. The best.
And, truth be told, his life hadn't been the same without them,
both professionally and on a personal level.
The Assistant Director smiled at the puzzled and expectant
expressions of his agents, as they waited for what it was he
wanted to say. There was so much he could say; so much he wanted
to tell them, but now was not the time for maudlin speeches and
sentimentality. Instead he chose just two words, but they were
words he knew his friends needed to hear.
"Welcome back."
* * * *
~Chapter 6~
There was a shiny new cipher-lock on the basement door of the
office of 'The FBI's Most Unwanted'... otherwise it was as if
five years had never been, and they were just coming downstairs
from a meeting - so familiar the sight of that closed door in the
somewhat dim corridor. Reaching into his pocket, Mulder retrieved
the slip of paper that Kimberly had given him, and punched in the
code written there. With a loud 'click' the lock disengaged and
they stepped through the doorway, back into a life they'd sworn
up and down they would never enter again.
Inside, the office was stuffy and cold. Scully immediately went
to the thermostat and turned it up. Mulder switched on every
light he could find - which amounted to about two, since somebody
had swiped the lamp from his desk. More or less adequately lit,
the office was at once comforting and upsetting.
A few empty boxes were stacked beside the wastebasket, and two
new HP Pavilions sat facing each other on their respective
working surfaces; hooked up and at the ready.
But were Mulder and Scully ready?
The agents stood in the middle of their old, legendary office,
absorbing the good vibes along with the objectionable ones...
And then Scully turned a bit and faced her husband, stuck out her
hand and murmured to him with a slight smile, "Agent Mulder? I'm
Dana Scully. I've been assigned to work with you."
Those familiar, dear words brought a grin to Mulder's face and he
stared down in delight at his wife, shaking her hand firmly.
Then he tightened his grip and jerked her into his arms,
imprisoning her there, bending over her soft little body and
retorting suggestively into her ear, "Oh, isn't it nice to be
suddenly so highly regarded."
His hips butted into her gently and he locked mischievous eyes
with her equally impish sparkle, adding, "So, who did you tick
off to get stuck with this detail, Scully?"
She grinned at him, feeling a lot better about being in 'The
Dungeon' again, and more than willing to continue this silliness
she started. She snuggled into his warmth and let her eyelashes
feather along his jaw line as she whispered to him. "Actually,
I'm looking forward to working with you. I've heard a lot about
you."
She opened her mouth around the tip of his strong chin and
nibbled at the slight stubble present there.
Mulder stifled a groan at the incredibly erotic feeling and
retaliated by cupping his hands around her suit-covered breasts
as his disbelieving reply brought back a flood of memories for
both of them. "Oh, really? I was under the impression... that
you were sent to spy on me -"
He slipped a finger into the deep V of the silk shell she wore
under her jacket and pulled at it until he could see her lacy
white bra, 'spying' quite shamelessly on her, as Scully pushed
her face into his shoulder and dissolved into giggles.
She wrapped her arms around him and curved her hands under his
jacket, against his soft cotton shirt. They held each other for
a long, sweet moment. Letting it soak into them, the feel and
the smell and the echoes of this place - where once upon a time
they had fought their personal and professional battles; where
two naive young agents had grown up to become hard-edged warriors
in the fight against a conspiracy of shadow men and gray men.
It had all happened here, not that long ago - and yet it felt
like a whole other lifetime. Mulder rocked them a little, side
to side; his whisper against her ear sent shivers over Scully;
the action as well as the words never as poignant and meaningful
as right now, this minute. "Do you believe in the existence of
extra-terrestrials, Agent Scully-Wife?"
She raised her head and pretended to ponder the question - then
her mouth curled at one side in a mysterious smile, and she shook
her head. "Logically, I would have to say... I want to believe."
Mulder chuckled and swept her closer, not a bit surprised at her
ambiguous answer. "Ever the skeptic, Agent S."
She nodded ruefully. "Ever the dreamer, Agent M."
He laughed again and bent to kiss her; it seemed the right thing
to do, behind the partially open door of their basement office.
The kiss grew in intensity and need; another stolen moment for
them - and they stood amongst boxes and dim lighting and
prolonged it...
And neither heard their boss walk in; neither heard anything,
until his pointed, "Ahem!"
They broke apart, turning to face Skinner with twin sets of pink
cheeks and abashed expressions. Their stoic boss tried his
damnedest not to crack a grin, but the look on their faces was
just too comical. He fought to remain stony as he addressed them
both. "I was just stopping by to tell you I need to see Mulder
in my office at two o'clock."
And then he hastened to add, "You know, whenever I used to come
down here, I half expected to find something like this... but I
never did. You were very discreet back then. I hope your time
away from this place has not lessened your judgment. And I'm not
only talking about displays of affection on duty. Remember the
rules around here - all of the rules. Especially the ones you
learned the hard way. If you get my meaning."
Skinner stared them down, these beloved and treasured agents of
his. They nodded as one, and had the grace to look sheepish and
apologetic. That combined look nearly killed him. He had to get
out of there before he started laughing. With an about-face,
Skinner headed for the door, snapping a sharp nod and a somber,
"Agents," as he made his hurried retreat.
It wasn't until they heard his footsteps echoing down the
corridor, that either one of them released the breaths they were
holding.
"You do know he's pleased as hell that he finally caught us,
don't you?" Mulder asked his partner/wife.
Her serious expression transformed with a roguish grin. "It's
about time."
* * * *
"So, have you seen them yet?"
"I saw HER talking to Kim this morning."
"Too bad about their little boy, isn't it?"
"Yeah, it really is sad. Did you know HE'S being investigated?"
"No."
"Yep. Agent Greenfield told me Agent Mulder is the prime
suspect. They think he may have killed the boy and is trying to
cover it all up with some crazy story about aliens again."
"Oh my God! Really? That's horrible!"
"Can you imagine? Poor Agent Scully, what she must be going
through."
"Do you think he did it?"
"Who knows? There are so many wild stories floating around this
place about him. I haven't the foggiest idea how much of it's
actually true, but there's no denying that he's always been a bit
of a strange one."
"They both are, if you ask me."
"Oh, she's all right. She's just - I don't know - a little cool
sometimes maybe."
"A little cool? Linda, only you would call 'The Ice Queen' a
little cool! Good grief!"
"Hey, I just feel sorry for her, that's all. I'm sure she must
have loved her child. And if her own husband did him in... God,
even 'The Ice Queen' would have to feel that. She IS human,
after all."
"It's debatable."
"Oh, stop! You're so mean, Donna..."
When the voices and laughter faded off along with the clicking of
women's heels, Scully stepped out from behind the high wall of
shelves that partitioned the copier room. Same old crap. She
hadn't heard the term 'Ice Queen' in a very long time; it still
hurt though. She'd gone out of her way to avoid earning such a
reputation at her job in Boston. Her colleagues and students at
Harvard Med all thought very highly of her, respected her and
seemed to like her. Of course Mulder wasn't a part of her
professorial life; he'd stayed out of that picture and she'd
avoided the controversy of paranormal topics and all talk of
aliens. And though it did make her feel a bit guilty for not
correcting them, most of her acquaintances at the med school
referred to her husband as Mr. Scully when they inquired of him.
It wasn't that she was ashamed of him - in fact, quite the
opposite was true - but Fox Mulder was starting to become well
known in academia, and Dr. Scully 'The Professor' preferred to
separate herself from the name he was making, however highly
regarded an authority he was. It was her own little version of
the FBI's witness protection program. An entirely new Dana
Scully, happily married wife and mother, part-time college
professor - a whole different life from the one she used to have.
She knew coming back to her old life, to the Bureau, wasn't
going to be easy, but she hadn't expected to find herself in
tears the very first day!
With determination, Scully wiped at the corners of her eyes,
attempting to stop the waterworks before her makeup was ruined.
Mulder was right; it shouldn't matter what the others thought.
She and Mulder were here to do their jobs - to find their son.
The hell with everyone else.
It was time she resigned herself to it. They would always be
'Mr. and Mrs. Spooky' around this place.
* * * *
"Hard to picture 'The Ice Queen' as a mommy, isn't it? It's
almost as hard as imagining 'Alien-Boy' as the daddy. Wonder if
the kid has green or red blood?"
Mulder stopped dead in his tracks and stood listening outside one
of the high partitioned cubicles in the recent bullpen expansion.
He'd been on his way to his two o'clock meeting with Skinner
when he overheard the unmistakable nasal voice of Agent Carl
Anderson spouting off some of his usual rude and tactless
remarks. Since a secretary and one of the newer junior agents
immediately turned tail and ran when they saw him rooted to the
spot outside Anderson's cubicle, Mulder assumed his face must be
a sight to see. The voice of someone he didn't recognize piped
up then.
"Shut up, Anderson; what the hell's wrong with you? Jesus, they
lose their kid and all you can say is what color blood does he
have?"
There was a snort of disdain - Anderson again.
Mulder had never liked the asshole; not only was he a lousy agent
but he'd made an aggressive pass at Scully once at a Christmas
party.
"Aah, 'Spooky' probably traded him for a free ride around the
Milky Way."
The cruel remark caused every muscle in Mulder's body to tighten
and his jaw to actually lock in place, a storm gathering in his
narrowed hazel gaze.
Five years of being stuck in the bullpen obviously had not
improved Anderson's expertise, either as a Federal agent or as a
human being. The agent had always been at odds, not only with
other agents but with the Agency directors as well. But he had a
solid twenty years invested in Federal service... and old-timers
like that were hard to uproot. They usually remained in the
background, doing grunt work. The more vocally repulsive ones,
such as Anderson, found ways to offset their professional
jealousy by digging with grim glee at those for whom their envy
knew no limits.
Mulder's fists clenched hard as he fought for enough tolerance to
round that final corner and proceed to Skinner's office.
Anderson was in rare form, probably figuring that after five
years he'd never have to hear the name Fox Mulder again. As the
shit continued to flow out of Anderson's mouth, Mulder fought
against the overpowering need to reach one of his fisted hands
around the side of the cubicle, and plow it into the stupid
prick's fucking windpipe!
Mulder took a deep breath... two more strides... and found
himself facing the interior of Anderson's cubicle, with the idiot
himself leaning up against his desk, his back to the corridor,
having no idea who stood behind him - busy addressing the young
agent who dared to defend 'Spooky' Mulder.
"Come on, Dell! The guy's a first-class, nut-bird loser! And
maybe his partner's gorgeous and stacked, but she's a bitch. I
bet the only reason she married him was because of the kid. Why
else? Probably conceived the little 'spook' right down in the
basement of this very building. Both of them are a disgrace to
the Agency, if you ask me. I don't care how legendary they make
themselves out to be..." Anderson's words petered out
momentarily when he turned from his desk and saw the object of
his derision not a foot away from him, staring him down... hard.
Mulder stood a generous five inches or more over the rather
squirrelly Anderson. And whether it was fearlessness or a
complete lack of good sense, Anderson chose to continue his
diatribe, despite the fact he was facing a man furious enough to
shoot him on the spot
"I can't help but wonder how many hard-working agents will be
pulled off their current vital cases, just to look for Kid
Mulder, who may not even be missing anymore - probably just turn
up dea-AACCKHH!" Anderson's words were reduced to a choking
gargle, as Mulder's hand made contact with the other agent's
protruding Adam's apple, and pressed in hard. Not too hard, not
enough to leave bruises, not enough to get him in trouble with AD
Skinner...
Who was rounding the corner on the way to his office and
overheard everything. He stood in grim censure of an agent who
should have been transferred out years ago. After Mulder
finished with him, the appropriate paperwork would be filled out
by Kimberly, copied in triplicate and sent on to the board for
review and processing. Anderson would be on his way out - just as
soon as Mulder finished 'talking' to him...
"Agent Anderson. You haven't changed a bit - still an
insensitive, egotistical, insecure prick with shit for brains and
a mean streak as wide as the Potomac. Some things never change,
you know? But for the sake of your health I would strongly
recommend that you keep your mouth shut in regards to my child,
and Agent Scully. I don't give a rat's ass what you say about
me; it all rolls downhill right into the gutter. But say one
more unpleasant, cruel or slanderous word against my family, and
you'll wish you'd taken that transfer out of HQ that you were
offered years ago; I promise you."
Anderson's eyes were wide. For all his bravado, he was a small,
insignificant, and truly inferior member of the human species.
With one more good squeeze on the smaller agent's pencil-neck,
Mulder let him go, hard enough to knock his skinny ass into a
partition. Then he turned on his heels, ignoring Skinner who
stood right behind him, stone faced, and strode away. He was
still shaking with rage, as he heard his boss address Anderson in
a growling voice.
"Agent Anderson, my secretary will have your transfer paperwork
completed this afternoon and sent to you. You are to consider
yourself suspended from active duty, effective immediately. Get
the hell outta here."
The squawking sounds coming from Anderson's raw throat went a
long way toward improving Mulder's overall mood. As he sat down
in one of the reception room chairs and waited for his boss, he
sent a nod and a smile to Kimberly... trying very hard to let
Anderson's rotten remarks roll downhill, and not hang themselves
up on a jagged edge of his guilty, hurting heart.
* * * *
~Chapter 7~
The Lone Gunmen's Lair Wednesday, June 7, 2006 8:30 PM
Ringo Langly's eyes darted to the surveillance monitor when the
buzzer sounded, widening with surprise. "Whoa - man! Hey,
Frohike! Byers! Get your asses in here - Pronto!" he yelled
excitedly.
The rest of The Lone Gunmen trio dropped what they were doing and
came running in alarm.
"What is it?" an aproned John Byers asked, dish and kitchen towel
still in hand.
"Yeah, what the hell is so important that it couldn't wait until
I finished calibrating the new controllers?" Melvin Frohike
grumbled.
"You guys aren't going to believe this - Look who's here!"
Langly pointed to the image of two familiar figures captured by
the front door security cam.
"Well, let 'em in, you doofus! Jeez, it's Mulder and Scully! I
wonder what they're doing here!" Frohike didn't wait for Langly
to respond; he was already halfway to the door, eager to see his
old friends again after such a long time.
Since the couple had moved away from DC, there had been a few
phone calls and an occasional e-mail sent, but The Gunmen hadn't
actually seen Mulder or Scully in five long years. Frohike's
stubby fingers flew over the chains and deadbolts that secured
the door, and seconds later there were hugs and smiles all around
as the weary couple was pulled inside and given a joyous welcome.
It was some time later, the group seated around the kitchen table
nursing a half case of pale ale, as Mulder brought The Gunmen up
to speed on recent events, that the mood became subdued.
"Oh Christ, Mulder - Scully... I'm so sorry." Frohike took off
his glasses and rubbed at his eyes in frustration. They were
stinging a bit as his heart went out to his friends.
"This is terrible," Byers put in, his sympathetic gaze falling on
Scully's now pitiable expressi