(fox42@ix.netcom.com)

PROLOGUE

9:30 PM, Somewhere in the Northwest U.S.

The little boy ran on and on through the dark woods. His small bare feet had

become numb with cold hours ago and he hardly felt the cutting fir cones and

occasional sharp rock. His unclothed body shivered but he continued to run

on legs that felt like sticks about to snap in two. He pulled air into his

laboring lungs with great effort. His small chest hurt and he felt tears

welling up in his eyes. He tried not to think of his mother or he really

would cry and then he would give up.

He could see a pair of lights off to his left and realized that he had come

upon a road. He stood quaking and painfully sucking in the cold night air as

he stared at the approaching headlights. The car finally drew close enough

for the driver to see the pathetic little figure at the edge of the pavement

and the brakes made a faint squealing sound as they were engaged.

The man who got out of the twenty-year-old Chevy looked like a lumberjack.

He was huge and burly, wearing a flannel checked shirt, jeans and heavy work

boots. As he neared the boy, he unbuttoned his shirt, pulled it off, and

wrapped it around the unmoving child. Despite his rough appearance, he was

gentle with the boy, crooning reassuring words to him as he carried him to

the warmth of the car.

For just a heartbeat in time he felt a vague unease that the authorities

might think that he could have been the one to hurt the boy. The thought was

instantly banished from his mind; to not help this child would be

unthinkable.

As he drove toward town and the small hospital, he tried to find out the

kid's name, with no luck. The poor little guy seemed to be in shock.

"Don't worry, son. You'll be all right now. My name is Dan Laudermann and I

promise you that you'll be safe with me."

When he looked down at the boy again, he saw that he had fallen asleep,

probably from exhaustion. His dark lashes lay on pale cheeks where the

tracks of tears still glistened. His full lower lip trembled with the

visions brought by his dreams. The man's heart broke at the sight. He

didn't even want to wonder at what might have happened to this child. This

big bear of a man had a kind heart, and to see this innocent little boy

suffering from God knew what torment....his foot pressed harder on the gas

pedal, anxious to get this small helpless creature to someone who would know

what to do for him.

Basement Office

FBI Building, Washington, D. C.

A Tuesday in November, 9:12 AM

It had been silent in Special Agent Fox Mulder's office ever since his

partner Dana Scully had arrived and settled down to read the file on the

newly-assigned case. He had called her ten minutes ago to ask her to take a

look at it, and his voice had been more monotone than usual, as if to keep it

emotionless. When she had walked into his office, she had seen the file

lying on the table next to the extra computer where she often typed up

reports.

Usually he would have had the file in his hands, going over the interesting

points verbally with her before handing the case to her for closer reading.

Her personal favorite was when he cranked up the old slide projector, and

not for the first time she made a mental note to see about requisitioning a

newer model. But today he was strangely quiet, sitting back in his chair in

the shadows. He didn't even reply to her automatic "Hi."

The case was not an X-File; things on the paranormal front had been subdued

lately. No, this was from Violent Crimes, involving a serial killer who

targeted children. Scully had tried to bury her horror at seeing the crime

scene photos, but couldn't stop a gasp at the last one.

This boy was the only one to survive out of six other children. What had

shocked her was the resemblance to her partner. Those soulful hazel eyes

were overflowing with an eternity of pain and sorrow. The full lower lip and

the facial structure all combined to strongly resemble what Mulder might have

looked like as a child.

Curious now, she checked the information on this victim. David William

Chandler; age seven, mother Mary Louise Chandler; no father listed. David

Chandler had apparently been kept a prisoner by the serial killer for several

days. From the condition of his body, he had been bound by rope at wrists

and ankles during some of the time he had been missing. He had suffered

various blows and cuts to his body. Given the sexual nature of the attacks

on the other victims, the killer was likely to have similarly abused this

boy. However, no evidence of rape or tearing and injury from such trauma had

been found. David had not spoken once since he had been discovered wandering

naked on a rural road somewhere in the state of Washington. His mother said

that he had been a talkative, friendly child prior to his abduction.

Scully closed the file and saw that Mulder had not moved from the shadows

behind his desk the entire time she had been in the office. His desk lamp

was turned off, which made it difficult to read his expression. She simply

waited for him to speak.

After a few minutes his quiet and broken voice rasped, "She didn't tell me

there was a child." His eyes closed tightly as if to shut out his thoughts.

Scully jumped when his fist smashed against the surface of his desk. "God!

My *child*, Scully, and he's been in the hands of that monster!" Leaning

now into the light, she saw that his eyes were haunted and his jaw muscles

were clenched.

Scully's brain was uncharacteristically slow to grasp the situation. Then it

hit her that Mulder had fathered a child; a child he had not known existed

until this case was handed to him. A child who had been brutalized by a

serial killer....

Her sympathy for the child was suddenly superceded by the very human pang of

jealousy that swept over her as she realized that some woman had meant that

much to her partner once. Being Scully, however, she impatiently shoved the

feeling aside as inappropriate. He needed her, but not that way.

"We leave on the 1:00 flight. I'll pick you up at 11:15 or so. Better go

home and pack."

Her mental paralysis broke and she firmly said, "Mulder, as I understand the

situation you're way too close personally to be investigating this case."

His eyes...oh, God, his eyes. Scully closed hers for a moment, then said,

"All right. But if any official discovers the connection, you know what kind

of trouble we'll be in."

He got to his feet, walked like an old man to get his suit coat, and left

without a word.

On his way home he recognized how he was once again manipulating Scully, but

told himself he would make it up to her later. He couldn't spare the guilt

right now. Instead, his entire being was occupied with thoughts of the

little boy he should have known existed.

When he picked Scully up at her apartment she had wanted to talk about the

situation, but he had rebuffed her conversational attempts in the car on the

way to the airport. The flights were full both from Dulles to Chicago and

from there to Portland, Oregon, so they were not seated together on the

plane. By the time they had picked up a rental car from the Portland airport

and had fought their way through all the construction at the place, she had

accepted the fact that he would speak about it in his own good time; forcing

the issue wouldn't gain her anything but animosity.

When he took the highway into Washington instead of Oregon, however, she

asked, "What are you doing, Mulder? We have to see the Bureau's Special

Agent in Charge in Portland first."

"It can wait. This last abduction broke the pattern; all the other victims

were found in the Portland area. This one turned up ninety miles away, and

the victim is still alive. I want to interview the child and talk with the

local sheriff." He looked at her out of the corner of his eyes and added,

"And the biggest reason is that I'm pretty damned sure it's my kid and I'm

not wasting a second in going to him."

Scully thought about how many rules they were breaking on this case, and how

many more they were likely to break in the next few days, and sighed. She

reached over and placed her hand on Mulder's, which was tightly gripping the

steering wheel. "OK," was all she said, but he flashed her a look of

gratitude. He knew that she often suffered for his blatant disregard of

proper procedure, but she still backed him up when it was important.

They were headed for a little town by the name of Willows. After traveling

through miles of thick Douglas fir forests, the sudden enormous space that

opened around them was a pleasant relief from the darkness of the trees.

Then the road had suddenly dropped down into a small valley filled with the

lights of scattered homes and farms. In the growing darkness they could

make out gently rolling hills leading into town. They stopped at the Willows

Court Motel to check in and leave their baggage, then drove through the

downtown area looking for the Sheriff's office.

Not seeing it on the first pass-through, Mulder reversed their route and

finally spotted it. A small brick-and-glass-front building next door to

"Jill's Five and Dime" evidently served as a post office on one end and a

Sheriff's office on the other. They were able to park directly in front of

the entrance since most of the downtown businesses were closed for the night.

Mulder paused for a second at the glass door, needing the time to take a deep

breath and prepare himself mentally for what might come. This didn't get

past Scully, and she wondered for the thirtieth time whether this had been a

huge mistake. There was a reason that doctors didn't treat their own

families and that FBI agents didn't chase their kid's abductors.

The small office was empty, so Mulder slapped the button on the bell he found

at the end of the counter. Nothing happened at first, and then they heard

the slam of a door somewhere from the back room. A muttered, "Dammit"

reached their ears, and footsteps approached.

A very tall, slender man in a sheriff's khaki uniform came through the door

and walked to the counter. He had black hair in a cut similar to Mulder's

but was taller by at least four inches. Scully felt that his brown eyes

missed nothing as he looked them both over.

Then his boyish face lit up with a big grin as he said, "You've got to be

feds. Suits, serious expressions, and you show up here after normal

hours..."

They produced ID for him, feeling for some reason as though they had been

caught doing something sneaky.

He extended his right hand toward them, saying, "I'm Matt Vernon and I'm glad

for any help you can give us on this case."

Mulder and Scully introduced themselves, wondering at this atypical response

to the FBI horning in on someone else's territory. Normally they were barely

tolerated, and often were met with suspicion and hostility.

Sheriff Vernon led them back to a pleasant office with comfortable chairs, a

couple of desks and even a couple of paintings on the walls. He offered

coffee, then got down to business.

"Paul Gregory of the Portland Office is running the FBI end of this. I

haven't heard that you were coming by, and he's usually a stickler for

procedure." His expression was noncommittal.

Scully spoke up. "We're from headquarters in Washington, D. C. We haven't

stopped by the Portland Office yet; they'll be expecting us in the morning.

We wanted to check out this part of the case first."

The sheriff's eyes twinkled. He could see that there were layers to this

story, and he was only getting the thin one on top. That's OK; he was a

patient man.

"Where do you want to begin?"

Mulder quickly said, "We have the file on the case, so most of the facts are

known to us. What I...we... would like to do first is to see and talk with

the surviving victim and his mother. Do you know where we can reach them

tonight?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. They're scheduled to meet with the therapist who

is trying to help David get over the trauma. You probably know that he

hasn't spoken a word since he was found two days ago. Let me see if I can

catch them before they get started. The mother would need to give her

approval in any event."

He picked up the phone and spoke with someone for about five minutes. Scully

noted the lack of an introduction and his casual manner of speaking with,

presumably, the mother. After stating what he wanted, his conversion mostly

consisted of "Yes," "No," and finally, "All right."

The Sheriff hung up and said, "It's only a couple of blocks away." He got up

and led the way out of the office and down the shadowy sidewalk. The street

lights cast their brightness into the night, but they were spaced far enough

apart that you had to watch your step when not in the circle of their glow.

Mulder had to force himself to keep from breaking into a run, anxious to see

this miracle who had been dropped into his life. He let Scully carry on the

fascinating conversation with the sheriff about how their flight went and the

difference in weather between D. C. and Willows.

When the sheriff turned up a walkway toward a modern two-story office

building, Mulder was at the door first, holding it open for them. They soon

reached a room near the end of a hall where just a low-wattage bulb burned in

a lamp. The far side of the room consisted of a one-way mirror, and Mulder

found himself lost in what was occurring beyond this barrier, in the next

room.

Mulder located the therapist with no trouble, seeing a middle-aged woman of

unremarkable appearance leaning against a desk. His attention then turned to

the younger woman who was sitting cross-legged on the thick carpet. For a

long moment he stared at her, noting that she hadn't changed much at all in

eight years. Then his focus switched to his primary objective: His son.

The agent's heart seemed to skip a beat as he absorbed the sight of the

little boy standing in the middle of the room. Mulder knew then beyond any

doubt that the child was his. It was in the child's posture, his face, his

body. In a convulsive movement, his hands tightened on the wooden rail that

ran under the window as he tried to pay attention to what was being said.

"We promise you'll be safe, David," the therapist was telling her passive

patient. "Your mom will be with you all the time, and Sheriff Vernon said

that he would keep a close eye out on your house to make sure that no one

bothers you."

There was no response from the child. He kept gazing at a point somewhere

far beyond the room's walls. Mulder noticed that several times his thumb

would creep toward his mouth, but David would jerk it back down by his side

before it got very far. He wondered if someone had admonished him about "big

boys don't suck their thumbs." Poor little kid was aching for comfort and

the feeling of security, which had been ripped away from him, maybe

permanently.

On an impulse Mulder abruptly walked out into the corridor to the next door

and entered the room he had just been viewing. Scully and Sheriff Vernon

didn't even have time to react. "Dammit, Mulder. What are you doing!?"

Scully whispered to the image of her partner standing a few feet away from

David.

The therapist looked startled, but the mother was speechless, almost in shock

at seeing Mulder suddenly appear. Obviously the sheriff hadn't told her the

names of the FBI agents when he had called her. Their eyes held each other's

for what seemed a lifetime, then Mulder had turned his full attention to

David.

Squatting down to bring himself closer to the child's level, Mulder said,

"David, I'm Fox Mulder. I want to help you. I know that you're scared. I'm

a friend of your mother's so you don't have to be afraid of me." He made no

move toward David but his compassionate gaze remained on the boy. He noticed

the stiffened posture and hoped he wasn't making things worse.

Mary Chandler, somewhat recovered from her initial shock, was telling the

therapist in a low voice that Mulder was an FBI agent but also a psychologist

and it was all right for him to talk with David. She wondered how the

therapist could miss the resemblance between the two. David had obviously

taken after his father far more than his mother.

Mulder ventured, "I've been scared like you. A very bad person was going to

hurt me but my friend got me away in time to save my life. It took a long

time for me to get over the nightmares."

There was a flicker in the boy's eyes at that and Mulder felt pity to think

that this little kid was apparently suffering from nightmares. No rest for

him asleep or awake.

"It helps if you have someone to love and protect you. Your mom does that,

and you'll begin to feel better about things after awhile. You'll see." He

gave him as encouraging a smile as he could muster, biting back the rage he

felt at the mental and physical damage inflicted on this child. But most of

all, Fox Mulder wanted nothing more than to gather this precious, hurting

child into his arms and give him the comfort he sought. His training told

him that such an action could damage the child even more. Mulder knew he

couldn't hold the boy now, and perhaps that could never happen. He fought to

control his emotions and was outwardly successful, he believed.

But Scully saw through the facade and knew where Mulder must be emotionally.

Knowing this, she was touched by his gentle manner with David and how he

kept a professional demeanor through what must be the most gut-wrenching

moments of his life.

Suddenly the boy looked full into Mulder's eyes and the hardened law officer

felt his heart melt. He could see the curiosity there, as well as the pain

and confusion. Then David turned and ran to his mother, throwing his arms

around the familiar refuge and burying his face into her shoulder.

Mulder stood up and took a deep breath. "Ms Chandler, my partner Dana Scully

and I would like to come by your house in the morning to ask some questions

relating to this case. We're staying at the Willows Court Motel during the

investigation. Here's my card, which contains my cel phone number. Please

call me if you have any new information or need to ask us a question."

He handed her his card and their fingers brushed together as he pulled his

hand away. He lowered his eyes, turned, and walked out the door.

Scully and the sheriff were already in the hallway when he emerged, and he

interpreted his partner's penetrating glance as, "We need to talk, but not

while there are people around - it won't be pretty." But for once he misread

her look, since she felt nothing but compassion for him.

Sheriff Vernon led the way out of the building and accompanied them toward

their car, trying to figure out what had just happened. He was a smart man

and could see the strong resemblance between Mulder and the kid. Matt Vernon

intended to ask Mary Chandler to marry him, and no matter what the

relationship and history were between this federal agent and the woman he

loved, he intended to have his way. Things could become quite interesting.

He asked, "Why don't I pick you two up at your motel at 8:00 tomorrow

morning, we can have some breakfast, have that talk with the Chandlers, then

I'll drive you out to the site where David was found wandering around?"

Mulder shook his head and replied, "No, that's OK. I want to talk with the

Chandlers on my own first. We could meet you at your office around 10:00 to

go see that rural site." The agent eyes slid in the sheriff's direction to

see how he took the dismissal, and was surprised to see an ironic smile on

his face.

"What about you, Agent Scully?" Sheriff Vernon asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Agent Mulder said he was going to the Chandlers first thing; can I buy

*you* breakfast?"

They had reached the car and an embarrassed pause ensued. Scully was unsure

whether Mulder had meant to exclude her or not, and didn't want to call

attention to the situation by asking in front of this very interested third

party.

Mulder spoke up. "Scully, that's a good idea. We both don't have to see the

Chandlers. Why don't you take the Sheriff up on his offer and then stop by

for me when you're done?"

Sheriff Vernon said, "Fine. I'll see you in the morning, then." He walked

down to his own car, gave them a wave, and drove off.

The two partners eyed each other over the roof of the car. Mulder tried for

distraction. "He seemed eager about having you to himself, Scully."

She wasn't about to be side-tracked, however, giving him a look as she got

into the car. He followed suit and turned on the ignition. As he reached

for the seat belt she began, "Mulder..."

"Scully," he interrupted. "I don't want to hear it."

Startled, she looked at him and said, "I beg your pardon?"

"All the bullcrap about proper procedures and regulations; you know - your

standard 'bad boy' speech."

Scully's mouth dropped open in hurt and astonishment as much at what he had

said as how he had said it. In a tight voice she replied, "I didn't deserve

that, you son-of-a-bitch. I was going to say that David seems to be a

remarkable child and I hope that he comes through this without too much

emotional scarring."

Mulder had the decency to look contrite and try to apologize. "I'm dealing

with a lot here, Scully, and I'm sorry if I'm unloading some of it onto you."

She felt that she was always the one to back down, but saw no other option

under the

circumstances. Saying, "I understand, Mulder," but not feeling it, she

viciously snapped her seat belt into place.

Once again, he recognized that he was deliberately avoiding the situation,

refusing to deal with it now, although he could still see the hurt in her

eyes. Coward.

Changing the subject, she asked, "Do you want to grab a burger at that place

near our motel and eat in our rooms? It's getting late."

He said, "Sure," relieved that she had let the moment pass.

They bought the food and returned to her room to eat it. They discussed the

serial killer case for awhile, then Mulder wearily leaned his head back

against the wall, tipping the chair slightly onto its rear legs. Scully was

stretched out on the bed, getting drowsy.

"Scully, I haven't told you about Mary Chandler yet."

"That's OK, Mulder. You don't have to tell me about something that

personal."

"Yeah, I do. She was a Special Agent out of the Seattle office when I was

sent there on a case."

Scully opened her eyes and said, "She worked for the Bureau?!"

"Yeah, in the VCS. She was getting pretty good as an investigator, but

profiling was never her strength. We worked together a lot on the case I had

been assigned - well into the night most of the time. Not to make excuses

for myself, but she was very aggressive sexually and it wasn't long before we

were together *all* of the time. I felt that I was able to separate that

from the job, at least for awhile, but it began to be quite a distraction.

Finally we both decided to call it off. The case was finally resolved, too,

but I was in the Seattle office for over two months, all told. This was in

1989. I guess Mary got pregnant and decided not to tell me."

He sat forward and opened his eyes. "She said she was taking birth control

pills. I need to ask her if she lied about that and used me to...fulfill a

need." He turned his dark eyes to hers and despairingly asked in a whisper,

"Scully, what am I going to do?"

"You'll see how you can help them and then do whatever is appropriate for

everyone concerned. Wait and see what happens in the morning. You're tired

and things may be clearer to you then."

Mulder nodded and got to his feet. "Goodnight, and thanks." She knew he was

thanking her for a lot more than her poor advice, and gave him a smile in

return. The door closed behind him and she lay on her back with a sigh and

wondered if this case was that one that would deal a death-blow to their

partnership.

(Continued in Part 2)

DAVID (2/7)

By Gerry Hill

(fox42@ix.netcom.com)

8:01 am, Wednesday

Willows Court Motel

Dressed in her burgundy suit with the short skirt, Scully was considering

changing to a pants suit instead. She couldn't think what had possessed her

to bring this outfit, knowing the weather would be bitingly cold. At least

she had her heavy long wool coat to wear. She wouldn't have had time to

change anyway, since someone was knocking on the door.

Sheriff Vernon stood towering over her when she pulled the door open. "Good

morning," he happily greeted her.

"Good morning. Let me get my coat and briefcase."

She grabbed her coat from the chair where it had been tossed a few moments

earlier, and as she sought the armhole with her hand, she felt the garment

being held in position for her. Used to doing everything herself, it was a

pleasant surprise.

She smiled up at him, shrugged into the coat and scooped up her briefcase on

the way out.

As they exited the motel Scully noticed that the rental was gone. Mulder had

already left to see the Chandlers, then. She thought it likely that he

hadn't slept much the previous night and had shown up at their door at an

ungodly hour.

She was right on both counts. He had managed to get nearly four hours of

sleep off and on, which was about average for him, anyway. He had left for

his appointment at six o'clock - unable to wait any longer - and then sat in

the car outside their house until he was sure they had been up for at least

half an hour. He had seen Mary come out of the house in her huge fluffy

white robe at six forty-five to get the newspaper from the walkway. When the

cat was let out at seven twenty, he decided to get on with it.

He was a little stiff as he walked up to their door. It had gotten very cold

in the car but he hadn't bothered to turn the engine on so he could run the

heater. As he rapped his knuckles against the wood, he felt something touch

his leg. Startled, he looked down to see that their cat was apparently ready

to get back in out of the cold and was sitting trustingly next to his foot,

seemingly comfortable in his presence. He wryly thought, you and Scully;

that makes two, when the door was opened.

Mary's eyes widened, but she gave no other sign of surprise. She had gotten

dressed and now wore old jeans and a dark blue sweatshirt. She stepped back

to give him permission to enter, which he quickly did so that she could get

the door shut on the chill gust of air he suddenly felt on the back of his

neck.

"Hi," she said softly. "Come on back to the kitchen and I'll get you some

coffee."

"Okay," he said, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. On the

way, he took his coat off and dropped it into an overstuffed chair in the

living room.

He had detected a slight nervousness in her voice and in the way she clasped

one hand with the other; remembering that gesture from when she had said they

were through, eight years ago.

Mulder shoved his memories down as he followed her into the pleasant kitchen.

The sun was finally coming up and her window over the sink was admitting the

first rays. They sat down with coffee cups at the kitchen table with the

soft morning light the only illumination.

"David is still asleep but he never stays in bed much later than 7:30. He'll

be down in a few minutes for his cereal." She gestured toward the waiting

bowl, a small glass of orange juice by its side.

Mulder surprised both of them by reaching out and brushing his palm along her

cheek. Her warm brown eyes were caught by his intense hazel gaze.

"You're more beautiful now than ever," he said wonderingly.

She broke the spell by saying, "Well, you haven't exactly grown warts

yourself, *Agent* Mulder. She pushed her chair back a few inches and gave

him a lopsided smile.

"Why?" was all he could ask in a broken voice, but she knew what he was

asking.

"I wanted a child. You specifically said you wouldn't consider such a thing

at that point in your life. So I stopped taking the pill, waited until I was

pregnant, and left to have my baby."

The anguish was clear in his face. "Didn't you ever love me at all?"

She took a deep breath and said, "I loved you, but I was never 'in love' with

you. Still, when I left I felt like part of myself was being ripped away.

None of it was easy for me."

There was a sound behind Mulder's back and he turned to see David standing in

the doorway, rubbing sleep from his eyes. His pajamas drooped on his thin

child's body. When he focused on the kitchen and realized that a man was

sitting at the table, he looked as though he wasn't sure whether to flee or

go to his mother.

Mulder gave him his best smile and said, "You remember me, don't you, David?

I talked with you last night. My name is Fox Mulder."

Since the boy hadn't run screaming in terror yet, Mulder slowly turned his

chair to face the child. He decided on honesty, at least up to a point.

"I'm an FBI agent and was sent here to investigate your case. I need to talk

with you and your mom. If I find out more about what happened, maybe we can

catch the bad guy."

All the time he was talking, Mulder was aching to pick David up and hold him

but knew it would only scare the boy to death. He wondered if this constant

urge to hold the child was for David's benefit, or for his own comfort.

Probably both.

David was still deciding whether flight would be in his best interest,

looking up at Mulder from between his lashes, worrying his lower lip with his

small white baby teeth. His mom broke the spell when she got up and said,

"Eat your cereal, David," and poured milk into his bowl.

This safe and familiar routine seemed to do the trick, as David calmly walked

into the kitchen, around the table, and sat down. While walking past Mulder,

however, he kept a close eye on him, ready to run at the slightest twitch

from the man.

Mulder had to make an effort to keep from staring at the...*his*...child. He

was beautiful, and he found it difficult to comprehend that this woman and he

had created such a wonderful being. The reality of it all punched him in the

stomach suddenly and he had to get up and retreat to the living room to

regain his composure.

He had recovered some control when he heard Mary walking toward him. He

turned and asked, "Will you sit down with me and just talk?"

"Sure." She hesitated, then took his trembling hand and led him to the sofa

on the far side of the living room, where even David's sharp ears couldn't

pick up on what would be said.

Looking into her face, all they had been to each other came back to him in a

flood. The feelings washed over him and he felt an abyss open up in his

heart at what could have been.

Finally, in a quiet tone, she said, "I'm so sorry. You were never meant to

know."

Her monumentally self-centered statement was like a slap in the face.

"You don't even know what you've done to me," he said in wonderment. He was

biting his lip, not realizing how much it looked like David's earlier

actions.

She tried again, maintaining the calm tone with an effort. "All right, I'll

tell you everything. Just let me talk and get it all out." At his nod, she

continued, "This will just be the brief version. I had been in law school at

the University of Washington in Seattle when the FBI recruited me, and I took

to the training with a vengeance, determined to prove to myself that my

father could have been proud of me. He was a Seattle cop who was killed

trying to stop a drug sale. Anyway, I got through Quantico, but along about

the time you showed up on that case, I had come to see that I had probably

made the wrong career choice. I had worked out a plan; I didn't want to

marry, but I did want a baby. So I would pick the right guy, make a baby, go

back to law school for the six months or so I needed to finish the degree,

and then get an intern position with a Seattle law firm for a few years.

Then my plan was to move to this little town and set up my own practice. I

had already picked the guy - a big blonde hunk in the Bureau's Seattle lab.

He was definitely interested in me, and then the day we were going to go on

our first date, you showed up. It didn't take long to dump the hunk; you

were who I wanted."

Mulder blinked at that.

"Not wasting any time, that night I arranged to trade with Craig Bennett and

take that stakeout with you, intending to seduce you afterwards."

He couldn't resist blurting, "Afterwards!? You were all over me long before

our shift replacement was due."

She smiled, remembering, and said, "Yeah."

"Anyway," she continued, "We were pretty good together and I almost

considered abandoning the plan, but I knew you weren't ready to make any

commitments, especially one concerning having a baby. You told me that

yourself. You would soon be returning to D. C. and there was no way I wanted

to wind up in that madhouse." She shrugged. "So I stuck to the plan."

"You're a lawyer here in Willows?"

"Yes. I've got a small office at the other end of town and love the job.

But most of all I love my son. Overall, I believe that I've made the right

choices. Except for hurting you. And for hurting David, if you tell him who

you are."

Her face reflected the worry she was feeling as they sat staring at each

other.

"Mom?" The child's voice held an unsure, questioning note.

Her head whipped around to see David walking into the room. She couldn't

believe that she had heard him speak.

"David," she said, and held her arms out to him. "Come here, son."

He cautiously moved toward his mother, aiming for the side opposite Mulder.

He sat next to her, snuggling into her side. He mumbled something and Mary

asked him to say it again, only louder.

"Is his name really 'Fox'?"

Mulder heard the question and had to smile.

Mary chuckled, and said, "Yes, that's really his name. But he doesn't like

to be called that and prefers 'Mulder.'"

David's incredulous face appeared from where he had hidden it in her side and

asked, "But it's his *name*. Don't you have to use your name, 'cause why

have it, then?"

"Good question. It's what his parents named him and when he got a little

older, he decided that he didn't care for it. That happens sometimes."

It was clear that David was thinking that possibility over in his head.

Mulder saw that Mary's eyes had tears in them, he supposed from the

suddenness of David's restored ability to speak. It had certainly been

possible that he might have withdrawn so far into himself that he never would

have spoken a word again. Reluctantly succumbing to the knowledge that he

needed to work on the case, he decided to take the opportunity to see if

David would tell him anything, now that he felt relatively safe in his own

home, in the arms of his mother.

Reaching deep within himself for the professionalism he would require to make

his child re-live the worst experience of his young life, he asked, "David,

do you think you could answer a few questions for me?"

Mary's reaction was more intense than the boy's, he noticed. Her body

stiffened and she gave him a severe look, shaking her head. But David gazed

thoughtfully at the floor, finally giving a slight nod.

"OK. Could you tell me what the man looked like?"

"Um...big."

"Was he as tall as I am?" Mulder asked, standing up.

David looked up at him then also got to his feet. He looked at Mulder's

knees, then his eyes traveled upward to stop at his head. "I think more

taller. And bigger this way," he said, holding his arms out to his side.

"But not fat big. Big, big."

"Either I or my partner will bring some pictures from the Sheriff for you to

see, and maybe you could show us how his face looked. Now, can you tell me

what happened when he took you from the car in Portland?"

David sat back down next to his mother, snuggling as close as he could get

without climbing into her lap. He said something, but it was too muffled to

make out.

"What did you say? I couldn't hear you," Mulder said in a gentle tone.

"I said he hit my face and said not to make a sound boy or I'll kill you and

your mom and then he drove for a long time and then locked me in a room."

Mary gasped and hugged him, then brushed a lock of dark hair from his

forehead. "You don't have to talk about it if you're not ready yet."

David squirmed until she quit fussing over him and said, "But he might get

away if I don't help to catch him."

Mulder began, "You're right..." but had to clear his throat and begin again.

"You're right, David. But you can give it a little time if this makes you

too uncomfortable."

Mulder felt so proud of his son when he shook his head and began again to

tell them about his horrendous experience.

"We were in the country. He left me all night, no dinner, and I got so

thirsty. But the room was empty not even a chair in it. Finally after it

was daytime again he came to let me out, and he made me take all my clothes

off. Then he tied a rope around my, um, hands."

"You mean wrists?" Mulder closed his eyes for a moment, seemingly in pain.

"Yeah. He told me to go to the bathroom before he would let me have any food

or water. But I couldn't go. He got mad and said I was a stupid fuck. He

hit me and I don't remember anything until I woke up again."

Mary was clearly having a hard time with this, but managed to keep quiet and

let David talk.

"Do you remember what happened then?"

"My head hurt." David frowned, remembering, and added, "The rope was tied

around my feet now, too, and to some pipes in the wall. The man was gone."

There was thick silence for a full minute, then David continued, "I was still

thirsty. I tried to get the rope undone but it was too tight. Then I heard

the man coming back. I cried and he got mad at me and called me a baby."

David looked up at his mother and said, "I'm sorry I cried. I'm not a baby

anymore, am I, mom?"

Swallowing, she could only shake her head no and give him a hug of

encouragement.

The part of Mulder that was a psychologist murmured, "David, anyone would

have been scared, even grown-ups. Crying doesn't mean you're a baby. I

think you are a very brave kid, actually."

David sat up straighter and went on with his story, although Mulder noticed a

pinched look to his expression, and a more rapid pattern of speech. He

didn't know how much longer he should let the child relate these tormented

memories.

"He grabbed me - he grabbed my arm hard and it hurt and he kissed it to make

it better, and it was so gross! He...he felt me...touched me...all over."

David paused, his eyes filled with the remembered horrors. Before Mulder or

Mary could say anything, however, he continued. "I tried to get away from

him and asked for a drink. And then he held the can while I drank some soda

pop. It was so good and I was so thirsty. I had to go to the bathroom then

but he said there was no bathroom - Just go right there. But I couldn't.

Not like our puppy used to do!"

The boy looked indignantly at Mulder, silently seeking his agreement that

this was a behavior unbecoming to a human being. The agent nodded, not

trusting himself to speak.

"A little later he untied me and took me outside and said so go on a tree if

you have to pee so bad, then we can play some games. He started to go at

another tree, and I took off running as fast as I could. It got dark but I

kept running and running..." The shaky, rasping intake of breath was enough

to tell Mulder that the child had done enough reminiscing.

"That's great, David. This will help us a lot. One more thing, though. Do

you know what kind of car the man drove?"

David looked up at Mary saying, "Like Mrs. Haley, mom. Only blue."

Mary looked at Mulder and said, "She drives an old white Volvo wagon. Her

house is two doors south of us, so you could see it when you leave."

Mulder walked over to the sofa, holding his hand out. Mary placed hers on

his palm and said, "I'm not sorry for meeting you all those years ago and for

what happened. I'm only sorry for the hurt you had to feel."

He tightened his grip and said, "Is there any chance...?"

"No," she abruptly said, cutting off what she knew he was going to ask. She

stood up and leaned toward his ear, whispering, "I'm seeing someone and I

love him very much. I'm hoping that he pops the question soon."

His thoughts were interrupted by an insistent little touch on his arm. David

was poking him, trying to get his attention.

Mulder went down on one knee and asked, "What is it, David?" He was so close

that he could see the gold flecks in the hazel depths of the boy's eyes, not

realizing that his looked identical at that moment.

"I remembered...in the car...the man talked with someone on the phone. He

was mad."

"They were arguing?"

"Yeah. He used a lot of bad words."

"Can you remember what he said to the other person? You don't have to say

the bad words."

David sighed and said, "But there were a lot of them." He paused, evidently

to edit his reply.

"He called the other one some bad names and said it was the last one and now

he planned on keeping this one for himself. He told the one on the phone

that they had gotten what they wanted, now leave him alone, goddammit." He

looked guiltily up at his mother.

Mulder slowly stood, thinking about what David had told him. Serial killers

normally are solo murderers. Granted there had been a few cases where there

had been two or more working in tandem, but that was extremely rare. He

needed to get to the data base and talk this over with Scully, then see what

kind of profile he could work up...

Mary's words intruded on his thoughts as she asked, "Will you need to ask any

more questions for now? Because if not, I need to go over to the

courthouse."

Mulder looked at his watch and was surprised to see that it was after 9:00

already.

"We'll get in touch with you later today about those pictures. Be sure and

call me, though, if David remembers anything else." He picked his coat up

from where it had been tossed and tugged the heavy woolen garment on before

walking to the door. Mary and David followed him and he turned as his hand

rested on the doorknob.

In that instant Mulder took in every detail of their bodies, their

expressions, and the trust he saw in their eyes. It overwhelmed him and he

turned so they couldn't see his face as he opened the door. As he walked

toward his car he heard the door close. It sounded so final. His heart

ached with the deepest sense of loneliness he had ever felt, knowing that he

didn't belong in their lives.

He sat in the car for a few minutes, his forehead leaning against the

steering wheel. Then he turned the key in the ignition and drove toward the

motel, making sure that he took note of the Volvo parked in Mrs Haley's

driveway as the passed the second house from the Chandlers'.

______________

Scully had not been surprised by the Sheriff's breakfast choice. She was

used to Mulder's alarming food consumption when he was in the mood, so what

she watched Matt Vernon consume came as no shock.

They were at a diner downtown and the Sheriff was almost done with his

three-egg western omelet, hash browns, sausages, bacon, toast, pancakes,

fruit and oatmeal. How he and Mulder could stay so slender while consuming

such vast quantities of heavy food was beyond her knowledge as a medical

doctor. Maybe she knew "secret doctor things" as Mulder put it, but this one

had escaped her thus far. And there was the opposite side of the coin where

her partner would eat practically nothing during a case, apparently

subsisting on adrenaline and hidden reserves of energy.

She realized suddenly that her companion had said something.

"I'm sorry, my mind was off somewhere. What did you say?"

"Paul Gregory from the Portland Bureau Office called me this morning just

before we went to breakfast. When he found out that you two were here

working the case he went ballistic. He's probably been burning the phone

lines up between here and D.C. ever since."

Scully could feel her face burn as she flushed with embarrassment. "Yes,

well, we need to talk with him, and the sooner the better."

"Why do I get the feeling that your partner doesn't exactly follow life's

little pre-set paths? He pretty much does his own thing, right?"

She shrugged, not wanting to talk about Mulder behind his back.

Her companion put his fork down and sighed. "I have to ask something and I

hope you won't take it as prying. But I need to know." He looked directly

into her eyes and waited.

"Go ahead and ask. How bad can it be?" Scully reached for her glass of

water, not knowing what to expect him to say.

"Is David Chandler your partner's son?"

She choked on the mouthful of water she had just sipped from the glass.

While she recovered, Sheriff Vernon added, "I just wondered, because if you

dressed the kid up in a little suit and tie and gave him a cel phone,

everyone would think Agent Mulder had been shrunk by an alien ray-gun or

something. They look exactly alike. Well, maybe not exactly, but pretty

damn close."

Now he had to wait until Scully finished laughing as well as choking.

Finally she was able to speak. "Um, you'll have to discuss that with him,

I'm afraid." She blotted her tear-filled eyes with a napkin. The mental

image generated by what the Sheriff had said was still vivid. The laughter

threatened to well up again, but she successfully put a lid on it.

"Why don't we head back to the motel and go over the case until your partner

shows up?" he said, with a twinkle in his eye. "Meanwhile, I promise not to

tell anyone about my suspicions."

Scully nodded gratefully as they paid for the food, then left the diner.

(Continued in Part 3)

DAVID (3/7)

by Gerry Hill

(fox42@ix.netcom.com)

His cel phone was ringing as he pulled up into the motel's parking lot.

"Mulder."

"Agent Mulder. May I ask where the *hell* you are right now?" The angry

voice of his

supervisor, Assistant Director Walter Skinner, drilled into his head from the

earpiece. Uh, oh.

"Investigating the VCS case in Washington, sir."

"Haven't you learned anything in your years with the government, Agent

Mulder? You've heard of the concept of teamwork? And you are aware of the

normal procedures for dealing with the chain of command?"

At Mulder's "Yes, sir," Skinner cut loose. "*Then why are you not

coordinating your presence on the case with the Special Agent in Charge??!!*

Dammit, Mulder, you know better than that!"

"Sir, I wasn't expected in the Portland office until this morning. When we

landed last night, we decided to check out this part of the case first, since

the rest of it will concentrate in Portland. This portion will be out of the

way."

"We, Agent Mulder? Did Agent Scully agree with this little 'detour' of

yours?" Mulder could hear the underlying sarcasm.

"Sir, the reasoning made sense to her. I was about to call Paul Gregory in

the Portland Office as soon as I got into the motel room. I've just talked

with the last victim and plan to cover a few more aspects of the case before

reporting to the SAIC in Portland."

"In person."

"Yes, sir."

"See that you do, Agent Mulder." The phone went dead.

Mulder turned the instrument off and mouthed a few choice swear words.

Skinner had been on his case lately for some reason, and Mulder resented

feeling like a little kid who's mother is checking up on him instead of an

experienced FBI agent. He decided not to delay facing the music so he

consulted his notebook and dialed Gregory's number. Once the secretary heard

who was calling, he was instantly put through to the SAIC.

"I've heard all about how you're known for ignoring rules and regs, but

that's not the way I run my cases. What's going on that you had to head

right up to Willows and investigate prior to checking in with me?"

"Good morning to you, too," Mulder said wryly. "I didn't mean to step on

toes and didn't think you expected me until this morning anyway. Heading up

here from the airport yesterday evening seemed like the right thing to do, to

get this part out of the way first."

"Oh, it did, huh? Well there are a couple of agents here who've stayed on

top of the Willows abduction, and they could have filled you in quite easily

without your little side trip being necessary."

Mulder fondly recalled meeting Gregory in D.C. once at some sort of

conference, and he could visualize a balding, forty-five year old

accountant-type who seemed to be constantly in a state of irritation.

Knowing this would get his attention, Mulder stated, "The victim has told me

what happened and was able to give me a description of the car and of his

abductor."

"What!? No one could get the boy to speak....Give me what you have so far."

Mulder smiled at the sudden interest and proceeded to repeat what David had

told him earlier. "The car I saw in the driveway was at least ten years old

if not more," concluding his description of the vehicle used in the

abduction.

"Damn. I'll get this out right now. And you say there was someone his

abductor talked to on the phone? Do you think they're working together in

these abductions and murders?"

"I think it's likely. I need to put a profile together. I'm just about to

start on that."

"Where are you staying? I'm sending an agent up to assist. See if you can

get a room reserved for him. And I want you to get the Sheriff to set up a

separate area in his office for your command center. Let me know when you

get more of a description of the perp from the child."

Mulder gave him the rest of what he needed, then asked, "What agent are you

sending up here?"

His name is Charlie Chan - I know, he's used to getting ribbed about it.

He's a good investigator, a really good sharpshooter, can speak seven

languages, and has been covering this case since the beginning."

"Sounds good. I'll stay in touch, then."

"I'm counting on it. And Agent Mulder, we have some unfinished business to

discuss when this case is over. I won't forget about your lone wolf act

here."

"Somehow I didn't think you would."

They disconnected and Mulder went into his room to get started on the

profile.

_________________

Sheriff Vernon stopped by his office on the way back to the motel to get the

map and file on the Chandler case. Scully was able to meet the clerk, a

cranky sixty-year-old matron named Beth Foley, and one of the Deputies, Fred

Sullivan. Fred was about forty-two years old, six feet tall, and still in

good condition. But he was a real talker and had managed to cover his first

seven years in uniform before they were able to get away. When they arrived

at the Willows Court Motel they saw the rental and knew that Mulder had

returned. Both were dying of curiosity about what had transpired at the

Chandler house that morning.

Scully tapped at Mulder's door, hearing a voice call, "Who is it?"

"Chelsea Clinton - I hear you're interested in government conspiracies," she

answered, and smiled when she saw the Sheriff raise his eyebrow.

Then the door was opening to a delighted agent who gave his partner a

lingering look, saying, "Scully, did you actually make a joke? What was in

your orange juice?"

He backed up to let them enter. He had Scully's laptop out and papers strewn

all over the room.

"Give me a second and we can get out of here." He exited the laptop program,

shut it off, and closed the case while continuing to speak. "Sheriff, do you

have a spare room in your office somewhere? Paul Gregory has requested that

we set up a 'command center.' He's sending another agent up here to assist

us with pursuing this end of the case while the Portland office keeps working

on the murders."

Scully and Sheriff Vernon could only stare at Mulder, absorbing this turn of

events.

Mulder smiled at their reactions. "Don't worry; he's planning on taking a

good-sized chunk out of my ass before we're done."

Her gaze idly drifting to the body part in question, Scully noticed that he

had changed clothes and was now wearing hiking boots, jeans, and a

warm-looking pullover sweater. "Has the FBI changed its dress code while I

was out?" she asked him.

"Oh, I forgot. As nice as your current outfit is, you may want to change,

too, Scully." He made an exaggerated point of eyeing her legs

appreciatively. "When we get to the site, I want to look around in the

forest for something. Hurry up and I'll tell you about it in the car."

She disappeared into her room leaving the Sheriff and Mulder to make small

talk for a few minutes. Mulder took the opportunity to have Sheriff Vernon

put out a bulletin for a blue Volvo wagon, ten to twelve years old. He had

just replaced the phone receiver when Scully reappeared dressed similar to

Mulder, wearing a parka, boots and gloves.

Sheriff Vernon commented, "You take the motto 'be prepared' seriously, don't

you?"

"Let's just say that I've traveled with Mulder before."

Her partner gave her a look, then grabbed his jacket and said, "OK, we're out

of here. On the way, I want all of us to go over the case in light of what

I've discovered in the past few hours."

They got into the rental car, Mulder saying he would like to drive and

familiarize himself with the countryside. Scully figured that he was just

too hyper right now to passively sit in the passenger seat and needed

something active to do, like driving. After getting some directions from the

Sheriff and they were on their way out of town, he filled them in on what

David had told him about the abduction.

They were initially surprised that the boy had spoken at all, much less told

a stranger about his ordeal. The Sheriff offered his opinion first.

"From what the child said about the telephone conversation between the

abductor and the unknown party, you think there's a sort of 'mastermind'

who's directing this guy to kill kids? That sounds really unlikely. And how

could the kid remember what was said so clearly? Most kids don't remember

what you told them five minutes ago."

Mulder carefully took the turn onto a rural road, thinking about his

response. How could he tell them that he suspected that David had inherited

his eidetic memory?

"He seemed pretty sure about it all. He's a really bright kid and I'm

inclined to accept his version of what happened. I think the unknown party

may have picked out the victims and pointed his man in their direction. All

of the children were abducted in the Portland area, and their bodies were

also found in that vicinity. But when we happen to come across a victim who

survived, we hear that he was abducted in Portland, but then transported up

into this part of Washington. The killer and his boss probably live up here

but were taking and dumping the victims in the Portland area to throw

authorities off the trail."

Scully could see that the Sheriff was getting frustrated with Mulder's

seeming leaps to

conclusions, not having seen him work in his "Spooky" mode before. Things

were silent for a few miles, everyone thinking about the case in one way or

another.

Scully spoke up to ask, "What about the notes left at the abduction sites?

If this guy was just a hired killer, he wouldn't be obsessing about obscure

religious tracts."

"Just more cover to make it look like a solo serial killer. But I don't

think the murderer is 'just a hired killer.' I think he really is a

disturbed individual who probably would have been killing children, except in

this case he got a little direction from someone. We need to get Agent Chan

to dig into the background of all the victims. Our answer might lie in that

direction."

"Make a right turn here," the Sheriff interrupted.

Mulder couldn't see a road at first, then saw that it was cut through the

forest with no road marker at the intersection. He made the turn a little

sharper than intended, and Scully would have slid against him if she hadn't

been wearing the seat belt.

"Damn, that maneuver would have worked if it hadn't been for the seat belt,

Scully."

"This isn't a date, Mulder." Then she remembered their audience and realized

he might be taking this the wrong way. She turned to look at the Sheriff and

added, "Don't mind him; you get used to it after a few years."

Sheriff Vernon smiled, obviously not bothered by Mulder's mild flirting with

Scully. He

recognized it as a product of a long-time friendship on the job. It was

difficult to work out of each other's pocket day after day and not get

comfortable with each other.

He realized where they were all of a sudden and said, "This is it. Pull over

on that verge."

Mulder complied, asking, "Did anyone try to backtrack David Chandler's route

from here?"

"Of course. But the trees are pretty thick, the fir needles make a soft

carpet on the forest floor, and they couldn't pick up a trail for more than a

few feet from the road. They spread out and went back about half a mile,

with no luck. Didn't figure a boy that young would have been able to run

much farther with all the undergrowth."

"Where was he picked up?"

"Dan Laudermann saw him standing on the opposite side of the road, right

there." He pointed to a spot that looked like all the rest of the area.

Mulder got out of the car and stood for a moment taking in his surroundings

and sniffing the air.

"Scully, let's head out on a straight line from where the kid showed up and

see what we can find. I want to check back at least a mile, if not more.

Are you up to it?"

She gave him an irritated look, not bothering to answer.

And so they set out, the Sheriff shaking his head and then following. They

were slightly spread out, Mulder on one end, then Scully, and then Sheriff

Vernon at the far right. The going was not too bad at first, but the

underbrush began to impede their progress before long. They were having to

detour around more and more stumps covered in moss, fallen trees, bushes,

brambles and unidentifiable plant life. They had lost sight of each other

before going a hundred yards. Mulder was picturing a naked, defenseless,

terrified child running through this forest at night and shuddered.

Scully had steadily been getting farther and farther from Mulder's position

because of the undergrowth. The Sheriff was somewhere over to her right; she

had been getting glimpses of him between the trees earlier, but hadn't

noticed him for ten minutes or so.

Suddenly someone stepped out from behind a large fir and put the barrel of a

sawed-off shotgun to her head. She couldn't see the attacker, but a quick

glance had given her an impression of a massive body. He didn't speak, but

patted her around the waist and found her gun. He removed it to tuck away

into his pocket, then grabbed the collar of her parka at the back.

Scully was dragged like a rag doll through the trees. The tightened collar

around her throat not only prevented her from calling out a warning to the

Sheriff, but it was seriously restricting her breathing. She frantically

worked at pulling the zipper of her parka down, hoping he wouldn't notice

what his captive was up to. Then the coat was open and she was raising her

arms behind her and falling forward, able to get free of the unwanted grasp.

Scully was rolling away from the man trying to draw a breath to call out a

warning to the Sheriff when a booted foot caught her on the chin and

everything went gray, leaving her semi-conscious. She couldn't tell how much

time was passing, but she was aware when the man told Vernon to pick her up

and carry her to the cabin.

Although her mind was still fuzzy at the edges, she saw that they were moving

into a clearing and that there was a building up ahead. As they reached the

cabin door she wondered what had become of Mulder. She fervently hoped that

he hadn't run into a worse fate than being captured.

Meanwhile, when he reckoned they had covered a mile, Mulder called out to

Scully, thinking that she should be located somewhere slightly in front and

to his right. There was no answer. His brow wrinkled in a frown and Mulder

called again as he walked toward her assumed location, knowing that she

should have been close enough to have heard him. Still nothing.

"Sheriff!" he tried, but got the same result. The forest was deathly still.

He tried to hold back the panic he felt rising in his chest when he suddenly

stumbled on her parka lying on the ground. He walked forward, eyes hopefully

searching for an alive and uninjured Scully, and abruptly found himself out

of the woods in a small open area. A rough-looking cabin sat about forty

yards beyond. Mulder fought against his first impulse to rush toward the

structure to see if Scully were in danger. He moved back into the trees

instead, pulled out his cel phone, and called the number he had for the

Sheriff's Department.

"Sheriff's Department; Deputy Sullivan," was the response.

"This is Special Agent Fox Mulder. My partner Dana Scully and Sheriff Vernon

may be in serious trouble. We need backup now. We're about a mile west of

where David Chandler was found after his abduction. I'm going to check out

the cabin where I think he was held."

Mulder disconnected, not waiting to have a conversation. He pulled his gun

from its holster and headed for the back of the cabin as quickly as he could

cover the ground. There was a rear exit that he planned to go through.

_______________

Scully finally got a good look at their attacker when Vernon gently lowered

her into a chair by a table. The man held the shotgun directed right at

them. She saw that he was blond, at least six foot six, nearly 300 pounds,

and almost all muscle. She asked, "Who are you?" not really expecting a

response.

But he replied readily enough. "Jack Lobell is my name. It doesn't matter,

since you won't be around to tell anyone that." He gave her an evil grin.

"And don't expect that other guy out in the woods will save you. I have my

own plans for him."

Lobell ordered the Sheriff to tie Scully's wrists and ankles together, then

checked that they were tight enough. Then he told Vernon to lie face down on

the floor. He took the Sheriff's handcuffs and snapped them on the owner's

wrists, then tied his ankles together.

All of this took just a few minutes, and then he disappeared into the back

room, his shotgun held ready.

Scully realized the ropes were too tight for her to accomplish anything if

she struggled, so she let herself fall from the chair to the floor and

scooted toward Sheriff Vernon.

"Sheriff," she said as she reached his side.

"I think the circumstances warrant you calling me Matt," he dryly suggested.

"Matt. Do you think you could try untying these knots on my wrists if I get

them close enough to you?"

"Let's give it a shot. Don't have anything better to do right now."

She twisted onto her side and he did the same so they were back-to-back. He

began working at the knots on her tightly-bound wrists. He commented, "After

a prisoner managed to get the drop on me one time and got the handcuff keys

out of my pocket, I've taken to carrying the keys in a small inner pocket.

To get to them, you would have to get my pants down. So trying to untie the

knots on this rope is probably easier than trying to get to the keys."

She was thinking, "But not as much fun." What came out was, "Lobell didn't

take your keys, then?"

He began to answer when a shotgun blast drew a startled cry from Scully as

they both jumped from the sudden noise. Her concern for Mulder grew into an

enormous dread. "Get me loose," she hissed, shoving her hands against the

Sheriff's back. He stepped up his effort, feeling a sharp pain as one of his

fingernails tore into the quick.

-------------------

The impact of the shotgun pellets against Mulder's left shoulder spun him

halfway around and his gun went flying. The full force of the blast had

missed him, or he would have been dead already. After the initial numbness,

the pain slammed into him like a sledgehammer. It hurt like hell, but he

couldn't stop to think about it. The shooter was coming down the back steps,

reloading the shotgun. No time to reach his own weapon so he took the only

cover at hand; he rolled under the house where there was a large gap in the

crawl space next to the porch.

Crawling with an urgency born of fear, both for himself and for his partner,

he managed to get well under the house before he heard the guy with the gun

entering from the same access. Since it was the middle of the day, it wasn't

dark enough beneath the cabin for him to hide very successfully. So he kept

crawling frantically toward the opposite end of the house, trying to ignore

the pain in his shoulder, hoping there would be a convenient exit. His life

depended on it.

Mulder cursed the fact that he hadn't worn his ankle holster this time. He

had simply forgotten it, probably because it didn't seem necessary for a hike

in the woods. Stupid, he thought, since this was exactly the sort of

situation for which he had begun carrying the extra gun. A quiet internal

voice reminded him that he was way too personally involved in the case and

was bound to make mistakes. Maybe fatal ones.

He realized that he needed to speed things up when a glance back revealed a

hulking shadow much closer than expected. He put on a burst of speed just as

another blast came from the shotgun. He felt a blow slam into the bottom of

his left foot that hurt like hell for a second, and then went numb. He hoped

he hadn't just lost one of his body parts. Scooting faster than he thought

was possible Mulder could see a gap in the crawlspace ahead. And then he was

through it, lying face up in the sunlight, covered in cobwebs, dirt and God

knew what from under the house.

When Scully heard the second shotgun blast, this time from under the floor,

she frantically began to flex, yank and pull at her loosened bonds. She

ignored the pain the abrasion was causing, and at last the rope gave way.

Hating to waste any more precious seconds, she nevertheless matter-of-factly

unbuttoned and unzipped Matts' pants, dug the handcuff keys from the small

pocket she found inside and freed his hands. Another minute and she was

shaking the rope from her ankles, whispering her plea to God to let Mulder

still be all right.

Her partner in the meantime was acutely aware that he had to get moving, so

he rolled over, or at least tried to. His adrenalin level had dropped and

pain from the injured shoulder suddenly made itself known with a vengeance.

He stifled a moan as he managed to get to his knees, noting gratefully

somewhere in the back of his mind that his two feet were still attached to

his legs.

Then his pursuer burst out from under the house, reloading as he got to his

feet. He shoved the barrels of the shotgun against the kneeling agent's

forehead none too gently, obviously intending to kill him outright.

Mulder surprisingly felt no fear at this swiftly approaching fate, but a deep

chasm of regrets opened up in his mind. He found that another had been added

to the long list - that of his son, David. But before he could give any

thought to mourning the fact that he would never have the opportunity to do

anything about erasing past sins , a shotgun blast became his whole universe.

Scully had raced ahead of the Sheriff out of the cabin moments earlier, saw

the situation, and purely by reflex slammed both arms under the shotgun just

as Lobell pulled the triggers. Mulder fell back limply and for a horrible

eternity Scully thought he had been hit.

Lobell meanwhile was trying to brain Scully with the now-empty shotgun. She

managed to avoid the first swing at her head, when she heard Matt yelling,

"Police! Let go of the weapon and put your hands in the air!" He had

somehow found one of their guns and was now holding it steadily on her

attacker's back.

Lobell ignored the warning and renewed his efforts to mow Scully down. As

she ducked and backed away from the menace of the shotgun, she tripped over

Mulder's feet and fell to the ground. As she hit the hard dirt with her

shoulder she heard the blast of a gun and Lobell toppled like a felled tree,

right on top of her.

Lobell's eyes glazed over and his full weight settled on Scully. She was

having trouble breathing when Matt finally managed to pull him to the side.

She was on her feet and kneeling beside Mulder before Matt had straightened

up again.

DAVID (4/7)

By Gerry Hill

(fox42@ix.netcom.com)

While Scully muttered and swore at having to fill out what seemed a ream of

forms at the hospital, Mulder was having about a dozen shotgun pellets pried

out of his shoulder. Four injections had deadened the site of the injury and

now he was just wishing Doctor Daisy would speed the process up a little. He

thought of her as Doctor Daisy because that was her first name and because it

sounded a lot better than Holtzenfelter. He knew she had to be older than

she looked, which was fourteen.

"Plonk!" Another pellet hit the bottom of the little metal pan that sat next

to him on a small table. Mulder was sitting in a chair since Doctor Daisy

was so short she wouldn't have been able to reach his shoulder if he had

perched on the examination table.

"There!" she said in a satisfied tone. She carefully cleaned out the last of

the holes, liberally smeared on an antibiotic ointment, and placed a gauze

pad over the whole thing. A few strips of tape completed the job.

Shaking her long blonde curls back from her face, she straightened up and

gave him a pat on the head. Mulder was feeling confused; she looked like a

kid sister, her caring and compassion was very motherly, and the sultry looks

she threw his way periodically were very sexy. Quite a contradiction, was

Doctor Daisy.

Scully showed up in the doorway at that point, and he felt relief that he

wouldn't have to figure out how to deal with this enigmatic doctor. Had he

been uninjured, alone in town, with no case involving the personal

ramifications this one had, however...

"Ready to go, Mulder?" Scully asked, taking in the scene. She looked vaguely

amused for some reason and Mulder was thinking that she saw entirely too damn

much and knew him too damn well.

Doctor Daisy spoke up for him. "He's all set. Be sure and pick up the

painkiller and antibiotic at the pharmacy on your way out. And see if you

can get him to rest; it's the best thing to promote healing."

Mulder felt awkward with the doctor talking about him as though he weren't

sitting right next to her. After all, his hearing had returned to normal.

And between Scully and himself, they probably knew more about how to treat

his injury than I Was a Teenage Doctor, here.

He refrained from commenting and pulled his ruined shirt back on instead.

Besides being stiff, his shoulder didn't feel too bad. Of course, it was

full of a local anesthetic. He grabbed his pullover and coat, gave Doctor

Daisy the Mulder version of a smouldering look, then limped out the door on

the ruined heel to search for the Pharmacy with a partner who was trying her

best not to snicker at his antics.

While waiting for the prescriptions, Mulder asked, "What happened to the

Sheriff?"

"He was meeting Agent Chan at the crime scene. After that, I'm sure he'll

catch up with us. You know the drill for all the questions and reports

following this sort of thing."

He glumly nodded. There was a contemplative silence as Scully drove them

back to the motel. He was thinking about how they were going to track down

the person who had been guiding Lobell's bloody hands. First he wanted to

get a start on doing some research on the victims and their families,

thinking he could find a connection there. He could turn the process over to

Chan later when they got together. Mulder borrowed Scully's laptop again

and disappeared into his room after she first made sure he took his pills.

Scully took some ibuprofen for her jaw and then lay down on her bed to get a

few minutes' rest. The few minutes turned into an hour when she drifted off

to sleep. She was startled awake by some very insistent knocking at her

door. She made sure to peer through the peephole first and then opened the

door to Matt Vernon.

He took in the bruise and swelling on her jaw. It was much more pronounced

than when he had last seen her at the cabin. Her hair was tousled and her

clothes rumpled, so he figured that she had been napping and hadn't eaten

yet.

"How about some dinner?" he asked.

She looked at her watch in surprise and saw that it was 6:10 pm already.

"Yeah, I'm hungry. We didn't have lunch. Let me touch base with Mulder,

take a quick shower, and we could meet you somewhere."

As she spoke, she walked to Mulder's door and knocked on it. No answer, not

even one of his pitiful excuses for a wisecrack. A frown appeared on her

forehead and she rapped on the door again. Still no answer.

Trying not to show her anger at what looked like another blow-off by her

partner, Scully told Vernon, "Looks as though it's just you and me again. He

must have gone out." Seething inwardly, she saw that the car was, indeed,

gone, when she looked out at the half-deserted parking lot.

The Sheriff said, "Go ahead and get cleaned up, then we'll drive over to the

Chandlers'. I have a feeling that's where he'll be."

"OK, except I'll just comb my hair and change sweaters. I'll be ready in a

few minutes."

She was true to her word and got into the car next to Vernon in record time.

He noted that she looked a hundred percent better and thought that she might

have taken one of those minutes to apply some concealing makeup over her

bruise, since it wasn't so prominent anymore.

Earlier that evening

After a shower, Mulder had pulled up his e-mail and found that the Lone

Gunmen had come through for him with the background information he had

requested on Mary Chandler. And what he read caused him to go pale.

"Married James C. Bentley, multi-millionaire developer, January 3, 1990."

That was only a few weeks after we broke up - when she was pregnant - he was

thinking. "Male child born August 15, 1990, named David William. Obtained

law degree May 10, 1991. Spouse died June 3, 1991 in boating accident. Moved

to Boulder, Colorado, August 22, 1991. Married Gary Selkirk, architect,

November 12, 1991. Spouse died from skiing accident on Christmas Day, 1991.

Moved to Willows, Washington, February 26, 1992. Married Anthony Parker,

attorney at law, August 24, 1992. Interned at spouse's law firm. Spouse

reported missing when he didn't return from hunting trip, November 19, 1995.

Remains later identified and death was reported as a result of a thirty-five

foot fall from a rocky ledge. Mrs. Parker restored the name of Chandler to

herself and to her son on February 1, 1996. Ms Chandler legally became sole

owner of spouse's law firm at the same time name was changed."

Mulder was aghast at the history he was reading. A wave of nausea hit him,

but then receded. She had told him that she just wanted a baby and didn't

want to marry. Obviously, he thought, she just didn't want to marry *him*.

The husband she selected after he left was a multi-millionaire. She had

probably been sleeping with both of us, he figured.

Christ! The data strongly suggested that Mary was a "black widow" killer who

mated and then murdered their spouse/lover. He felt a chill at the thought

that he had been a strong candidate as one of her victims. Why had he

emerged unharmed? And David...My God. The nausea returned with a vengeance.

After he was sick in the bathroom he felt a little better. He realized that

he had a serial killer case to work on but he also needed to make sure that

David was all right. There was no proof that his mother was a murderer,

obviously, or she would have been locked up long ago. This could get nasty.

He decided to go over to the Sheriff's office to pry a little gossip from the

staff, and try not to be too obvious about it. And then he would go over to

Mary's house for a talk. He figured that Scully was getting a much-needed

nap, so he would have to be quiet when leaving the motel. She would probably

kill him later for what she called "ditching" her, but he didn't want her

involved any more than necessary with his sordid past life. She probably had

a low opinion of him as it was, and didn't need any more material to

strengthen that assessment of his moral fiber. And he wasn't anxious to see

her reaction when he told her that his former girlfriend had married and

buried three husbands since August 1990.

Mulder put his suit and his undamaged pair of shoes on, noticing that the

painkiller seemed to be keeping his aches and pains at bay for now. When he

reached the Sheriff's office he found the clerk had gone for the day, but

Deputy Sullivan was still there, talking with Agent Chan over a cup of

coffee.

Chan knew who Mulder was, and couldn't hide his awe of the man. His

reputation within the Bureau was mixed, but Chan knew that Fox Mulder had

solved some pretty tough cases in his career and was thought to be a somewhat

warped genius.. He was more than happy to tackle the investigation into the

victims' families and any other job the infamous "Spooky" threw his way.

After sending the enthusiastic agent back to his computer, Mulder asked

Deputy Sullivan to tell him everything he knew about Mary Chandler.

The Deputy didn't often have a captive audience, and relished the attention.

After five minutes of small talk he said, "We were surprised when she

married old Tony Parker, one of three local attorneys. She could have had

the pick of the men in town, but went for the man who was fifteen years older

than she was. Tony was a good catch, mind you, with his law firm and his

family's money..."

"He was well-off?" Mulder asked.

"I would be inclined to say he was rich," the Deputy said, grinning. "Scads

of dough. He came from a wealthy Seattle shipping family and didn't have to

work, but he liked the law. We all had quite a respect for the man around

here. It was a shock when he went missing and then his body was found in

that ravine."

"Did you see the site where his body was found?"

"Hell, yes, I saw it. I'm the one who found Tony's body, or what was left of

it. The animals and the elements had pretty much taken care of the soft

parts, but the autopsy showed that it was Tony, all right." He sat shaking

his head, remembering.

"What about the investigation? Did anything look suspicious about the

death?"

"Not really. Other than Tony was afraid of heights and no one could figure

out why he might have been out on that rocky ledge to begin with. Might have

been running from something like a cougar and got dead-ended at the ravine.

We still have predatory animals out in that forest. Or it was dark and he

just didn't see the drop-off. Anyway, there wasn't anything to indicate it

might have been murder."

"Did his wife inherit everything?"

"Except for some holdings in Seattle that reverted back to his family, yeah,

she got everything. She even took over the law firm, and she's done a great

job of it, too."

Mulder could see that Deputy Sullivan was a "Mary supporter" and took another

tack.

"So she's available again - any serious suitors?"

He flushed and said, "Probably every single man in town. As for

front-runners, Alan Tyler and our own Sheriff Vernon are the most likely to

win out."

Mulder hid his surprise at hearing that Sheriff Vernon had that kind of a

relationship with Mary and asked, "Who do you think will succeed?"

The Deputy thought a minute and said, "Tyler hates kids. Well, maybe it's

not that strong; they irritate the hell out of him. On the other hand,

Sheriff Vernon loves kids, especially little David. Going on feelings alone,

I would put the Sheriff in there by a nose."

Bluntly, Mulder asked, "Which one has more money?"

Deputy Sullivan raised his eyebrows and answered, "Why, Tyler, of course.

He's a financial advisor and took his own advice in playing the stock

market. I would guess he's worth at least a million and probably three or

four. The Sheriff is just a working stiff with a little money put away for

the future. He's comfortable, living here in Willows, anyway."

Mulder thanked the Deputy and took a minute to check on Chan and to see what

kind of "command center" had been allocated to their team. It turned out

they had a 12x12 room containing a computer station, a conference table, six

chairs, and a chalkboard on the wall. Chan was busily at work pulling up

backgrounds and histories at the computer. Mulder cautioned him against

working much longer, and that he should go get some dinner.

"I've got an errand to run, but we could get together for breakfast; say,

8:00?" Mulder asked.

"Sure. I'll come by your room then."

Mulder nodded and then took off for the Chandlers'. As he drove, he thought

about what Sullivan had told him earlier and began processing each fact in

his mind, selecting key ideas and rejecting obvious irrelevancies. Suddenly

he pulled over to the curb, slamming on his brakes. "Shit! Oh, shit!" He

hit his fist painfully against the steering wheel, oblivious to the pain. He

went over everything again, trying to pull in other data that would show his

conclusion to be false, but he wasn't able to disprove it. He hurriedly

dialed Sullivan and asked the Deputy to check on something for him. For

once, the man didn't babble on about his dog, job or friends and came back in

four minutes with the information.

With a terse "thanks," Mulder disconnected, put the car into gear and floored

the gas, intent on getting to Mary's house as fast as humanly possible.

The Chandler House

6:29pm

Scully and Sheriff Vernon drove up in front of the house and parked at the

curb. The street lights had come on, but there was no sign of Mulder's

rental. "Looks like I guessed wrong. Since we're here, let's go in for a

minute. I'm good friends with the family and I'd like to see how they're

doing."

Mary answered the door looking a little disheveled. "Oh, hi Matt. I was

doing some

housecleaning. Come on in." She moved back into the living room as Matt

introduced Scully.

"You're Agent Fox Mulder's partner," she commented, with interest.

Suddenly a small body came rocketing from the back doorway calling, "Sheriff

Matt!! Sheriff Matt!!" David threw himself into the Sheriff's arms,

giggling at being scooped up and tossed over the tall man's shoulder like a

sack of flour.

Scully had to smile at the two - they were making faces at each other now,

and the boy seemed quite comfortable to be held by his friend. She noticed

that David was wearing a new-looking blue and white striped tee shirt with

unwrinkled khaki pants and wondered if they had been going somewhere.

Mary motioned that they should sit, and Scully went to an overstuffed chair.

Sheriff Vernon put David back onto his feet and listened as he told him all

about the kid next door who had gotten a new puppy and he would be allowed to

play with him later. After a few minutes his mother asked him to get coffee

for everyone; there was some already brewed. He went off to the kitchen, and

Matt said softly, "That's quite a change from a day ago."

"Yes, he seemed to snap out of it during Mulder's...um, Agent Mulder's visit

yesterday. I haven't been able to shut him up since then."

Then they all jumped slightly as someone began to frantically pound on the

front door. When Mary looked through the peep-hole she saw a wild-eyed

Mulder who appeared to be somewhat out of control.

"It's your partner, Agent Scully. He seems to be upset."

Against Mary's better judgment, she unlocked the door and it was pushed open

immediately, causing her to back up a few steps. She gave a startled cry

Scully saw the Sheriff's hand on his gun, so she quickly got to her feet and

walked toward her partner saying, "Mulder! What's wrong?"

But her partner's eyes were riveted on Mary, who returned his gaze with

concern.

"Where is he?" Mulder rasped.

At that point David came out of the kitchen, stepping slowly and carefully,

carrying a mug of coffee in each hand. He hadn't noticed Mulder, his

attention focused on not spilling the drinks.

The frantic agent took in the sight and slowly let out a long breath of

relief. Then he muttered, "Excuse me," and grabbed his partner's wrist

tightly with his left hand. She tried not to wince when it irritated the

abraded skin where the rope had rubbed. He didn't notice, but pulled her

into the far corner of the room and said in a low, urgent voice, "We've got

to get him out of here, Scully."

"Don't you think his mother might have something to say about that?" she

replied, prying his fingers from her wrist. He released his grasp suddenly,

took a deep breath to calm himself and told her, "She's probably murdered

three husbands and...may be responsible for the murdered children in our

serial killer case."

Scully glanced over at Mary who had rejoined the Sheriff on the sofa. She

kept her voice low, but it was tense with her reaction at his statement, as

she asked, "You have proof?"

"No, but a mighty damn solid suspicion. I need a little time to build the

case but meanwhile David can't be left with her." He closed his eyes. "I

believe that she set up the other murders through Lobell so that David's

death would appear to be a part of that series."

"Oh my God! Why would she want to do something so horrible as to kill her

own child, not to mention those other children?"

He watched Mary talk with the Sheriff at the far end of the large room as

David walked toward the two on the sofa carrying a third cup of coffee. They

kept glancing over at the two agents, but Sheriff Vernon had evidently

decided to let Scully see what was going on with her partner before butting

in.

Mulder said, "You've heard of people who are born with the inability to feel

anything like love or empathy for their fellow humans? There have been

serial killers like that who managed to blend into society by imitating those

feelings. This ability to mimic emotions conceals their true nature, which

is a coldness and indifference to life, enabling them to kill without feeling

remorse. It would have no more meaning to them than shaking dust from a

rug."

He leaned against the wall, appearing weary and heartsick.

Scully said, "But what would her reason be for having David killed after all

this time?"

"She wants to marry Alan Tyler, a rich man who doesn't like kids. He would

be her fourth wealthy husband in seven years."

"But..."

Forestalling her next question, he said, "She's an attorney. She represented

Lobell when he stood trial for child molestation. Got him off scott free.

She could have easily manipulated him to use the serial killings as a cover

up for the eventual murder of her own kid. No one would connect her to the

crime."

"Listen to yourself, Mulder. You are stringing a series of facts together to

fit your premise. So she's an attorney who represented Lobell. There are

probably only a few attorneys in this town who are trial lawyers; the odds

that she would be retained by him or be court-appointed are high. As for the

dead spouses, apparently there was no proof that she had anything to do with

their deaths, or she wouldn't be free today." Although his expression was

grim and closed to her, she resolutely continued.

"She's an attractive woman and it's normal for her to re-marry. And some

stepfathers, if the truth be told, probably don't care for their

stepchildren, but if they love their wives, they adjust to the new situation.

Killing the kid is a little drastic, don't you think?"

"Scully, she's Lobell's guiding hand in the murders, and she murdered three

husbands." His face was leaning close to hers, his eyes black and

unreadable.

"Is this coming from a need for revenge for what she did to you eight years

ago, Mulder?" His partner's chin came up in a gesture of bravery in the face

of the coming anger she expected. But it didn't prepare her for the silence

as his gaze bored into her soul.

Finally he said, "Scully. For someone who claims to trust me..." His eyes,

his expression, his whole body seemed to accuse her of betrayal. He leaned

in closer, nearly nose-to-nose. "I need my partner to back me up here. How

many times have I had just this kind of gut feeling and it turned out to be

right? Are you with me or not? I need to know, Scully. This one is too

important to me."

Her jaw clenched with fury at the thought of how often *he* claimed to trust

*her* and then ditched her or kept things to himself. She spat out, "That

depends. Are you planning to break the law here, Mulder? Kidnap the boy,

perhaps? You - Have - No - Legal - Basis for taking himaway from his mother

or for arresting her."

She saw his eyes track past her, watching something on the other side of the

room. So she turned slightly and saw that David was waving his hand at

Mulder with a big grin on his face. She heard her partner take a deep breath

and his expression softened as he waved back.

The Sheriff finally couldn't stand it anymore. He excused himself to Mary

and crossed the room to the peculiarly-acting federal agents. He grimly

asked, "What the hell is going on here? What's with all this whispering?

Mary's got to be concerned about your actions, considering what's happened

in her life recently."

Mulder tersely filled the Sheriff in on his theories and conclusions and the

facts he had managed to gather. Vernon's expression grew incredulous and

then anger suffused his face.

"You son of a bitch! You're insane, and I don't know how they let you carry

that badge. You're jumping to all kinds of wild conclusions and I've half a

mind to lock you up to protect these innocent people."

Mulder had a closed expression as he listened to this not-unfamiliar opinion

of his mental faculties. And knowing how the Sheriff felt about Mary

Chandler, he understood the protective attitude. Then he pushed past the

Sheriff and strode over to Mary, leaning down to keep David from hearing what

he had to say.

"I know all about you and what you've done. If you harm David in any way,

I'll kill you." His expression backed up his threat, making it clear that he

meant what he said. She sat very still, hardly breathing, her eyes wide with

shock.

Then the Sheriff's firm grip was on his arm.

"Let's go outside, Agent Mulder, and have a little discussion," he growled.

Mulder knew he was pushing it with the Sheriff, so he walked out of the

house, followed closely by Vernon and Scully. They left the brightness of

the front porch light and stood on the walkway near the cars on the street.

Vernon said, "All right. Let's get it all out and see what we have. My

first reaction is to bash your face in for what you said about Mary, but I'm

willing to discuss this situation and look at it strictly from the viewpoint

of the law."

Mulder appreciated that the man could see past his own rage and thought that

he might listen to what he had to say. So he began to cover the facts in

detail, slowly and clearly leading up to his horrifying conclusion.

"I don't want this to be true any more than you, Sheriff," Mulder said, as

his eyes pleaded with the man for understanding and support.

Vernon nodded and slowly said, "I believe that you don't want these

suspicions to be true. Since he's your son, you couldn't help but have

strong feelings on the subject."

Mulder's eyes widened and his first reaction was to look over at his partner.

Scully realized that he thought she had told the Sheriff about the

relationship and felt an enormous sadness wash over her. Unable to speak

without saying some things she would regret, she simply shook her head "no."

Sheriff Vernon caught this byplay and quickly said, "No one told me, Agent

Mulder. I could see the resemblance immediately. I also got the impression

that you had never seen him before and maybe didn't even know about his

birth. But that's between you and Mary and it's none of my business."

So what do you propose we do about this, gentlemen?" Scully's voice was

stiff and businesslike. "It's my opinion that we need to find more evidence

before making any move against Ms Chandler."

(Continued in Part 5)