Title: Galaxies and Stars Author: RM >lebontrager@iname.com< Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No fringe is intended. SPOILER: Grotesque, Beginnings, mytharc ====== Galaxies and Stars ====== " I observe and contemplate this child of love, made of the same stuff as galaxies and stars. And I know that the only meaning is love. " --Madeline L'Engle, "Two-Part Invention" The Crosswicks Journal, Book Four ====== 'Please stop me.' The mirror was dark with the steam from the hot shower, and when he wiped away the smear, the words had appeared, like the hand writing on the wall. 'Please stop me.' Mulder froze, his hands clawed on the edge of the sink, eyes hard and wide with an astonishment that bordered on fear. The words were still there, written in the steam, the letters printed with tight control but still crooked. As if it had taken all the strength left to spell out those words. He turned slowly, crouched for an attack, his fingers itching for his weapon. Nothing but the dissipating mist, and the coldness of the air conditioning. He turned back to his mirror and the writing was gone. Mulder rubbed his face hard, digging his fists into his eyes and shuddering. The towel around his waist loosened and dropped, but he didn't care. He was too spooked. It was like his nightmares were coming in the midst of the day, when the case was far from his mind. Thirteen deaths now, all of them men in their homes within their comfortable bathrooms. It was a serial case he had asked to be updated on, even though ISU still officially held it. He really hadn't meant to take it on, or even get as involved as he had, but there it was. He was dreaming this killer, having the day-mares that haunted him, caused him to become the zombie again. This was the kind of life he had left behind when he found the X-Files, the kind of life that had ruined Patterson. Except whoever this murderer was, Mulder couldn't the face, the image or impression of him in his dreams. Only an invisible hand pleading for someone to stop him. 'Please stop me.' Mulder heard the bathroom door snick open and sighed. Hallucinations? Was he to go that far this time? "Uh. . .Mulder?" He spun around, eyes wide, breath and heart racing as the hallucinations became solid reality. "Scully." She watched him for a moment, then took a towel from the rack and handed it to him, her face never changing, her lips slightly smirking. Taking his time, Mulder clutched the towel in one hand, shaking his head. He turned back to the mirror once again, just to make sure, then slowly pulled the green towel around his waist. She didn't say anything, and he didn't look at her, trying to gauge her reaction without having to meet her eyes. He wanted to know if it had affected her, if his casual nakedness had done anything to her. When he shuffled back into his bedroom, he debated dropping the towel to pull on his boxers, but Scully reached forward and snagged it, holding tightly. "Mulder." He looked over at her and was surprised at the heat in her cheeks. "Yeah?" She licked her lips and shook her head. "Airport, remember?" He gaped at her for a moment, frantically trying to determine which he was more shocked about -- the fact that he had forgotten about the airport, or the very real reaction she'd had to his body. They were supposed to pick up an agent flying in from Florida and then escort him to the DC building. Supposedly, he had some kind of informant with him that was very important to a case ISU was working on, and the department was afraid for the man's safety. She was blushing.... "I've been kind of distracted lately," he said, and moved away from her hand, towards his clothes spread out on the bed. He had completely forgotten to set his alarm, and when he had woken up, the nightmares had overridden his memory. "Need any help, Mulder?" she said. He glanced over at her, eyebrows raised, lips pursed. "Well, since you asked. . ." She rolled her eyes, mastering her embarassment with a sigh. "Mulder." He nodded. "I just have to get dressed." "Have you had breakfast yet?" He shook his head and she turned away, still talking. "I'll get you some coffee and toast, Mulder, and hurry up. Okay?" He smiled to himself and listened to her rummage through his kitchen, letting his towel drop to pull on his clothes. But his nightmares and the case that refused to leave his thoughts had him confused, and his weariness was starting to affect him. He closed his eyes and he could see it again. 'Please stop me.' ====== The room is cold with unfeeling and concrete. Everything's gone. "What's your name, little one?" he says. I close my eyes. Names are such hard things to live up to. Mine is Judith and Mother expected me to be an easy, beautiful baby, with blonde hair and flirty eyes. But my hair is dark brown and my eyes are grey, like father's, and I hate the parties she wants to take me to. Mother calls me her little mulatto baby, and Father would get angry and yell at her. My grandmother always tells the story about my mother and father waiting to get married because she didn't want to look fat in the pictures. That's me: the fat. Pregnant in a wedding dress? Mother used to laugh during the telling. I never laughed. Grandmother would cluck her tongue and shake her head and mother would glare at her as if this was something very wrong and painful, but I don't think mother ever gets hurt by anything. She's very detached from things; half the time she looks down at me and says 'oh, I didn't know you were there.' Today many things happened, and I don't think I'll ever see Grandmother again, or the outside of this place. The policemen won't let me leave until they find someone to take me, but I'm afraid to go home. "Honey, won't you tell us your name?" he says. I curl up tighter in the metal chair and hold tightly to my doll, turning my thoughts away from today. Mother never did marry father, but he lived with us for a while, then moved away. Mother said he had to go and father told me that he was very sorry but he couldn't love Mother. The car was shiny and waxed when he left, but the tires were the same old rubber ones, and the bumper sticker still yelled 'Africa' in red and yellow and green letters. I hugged father and he said I would always be his baby girl. Another boyfriend moved in after that, but I can't remember him too well. "Hey, sweetheart. This is Dr. Lydell, and he wants to ask you some questions. Is that okay?" I look up at the man and he reminds me of Chris, the man with dark hair and Chinese eyes that used to work for Mother. I won't answer him; he smells like fish. Mother has her very own store, and she calls it a novelty shop, then grins like she's in pain and says, 'the newness wore off a long time ago.' She manages it all on her own, and sometimes, when things get broken, she brings them home to me and lets me play with them. I have a Madeline doll with a coffee stain on her dress and a metal Curious George lunchbox with the handle missing. I glance to my hands, the tight hold on my Madeline doll, and the stain now covered with other stains, thick and dark and smelling like bitter metal. Dr. Lydell tries to take her away, but I crawl to the corner and close my eyes, remembering the store. When Mother's boss comes in to town, she stays in a nice hotel and then goes to work with Mother. Afterwards, they pick me up at the day care and take me to lunch. Her name is Sharon and she talks about her grown-up son, and she looks at me when I say things to her. She always buys me a chocolate mint when we leave and tells me to mind my mother. Once, Sharon took me to Mother's work with them and let me play on her computer. She kept saying I was a smart girl. "Little girl, we need to know what happened to your mother. . .can you tell us? Won't you talk to us? We know you're afraid, but you're safe here." All of Mother's employess know me and they like to sit me on the counter and talk to me. My favorite person is Hannah, because she's good at telling stories and she always makes the voices. Mother never makes the voices. Hannah told me in June that she wasn't going to work at the store anymore, and it made me cry. She hugged me for a long time and let me cry all over her, and promised to e-mail me every day. Mother hates the computer because, as Hannah said, it's smarter than her, and she lets me do whatever I want on it. I begin to cry now, remembering Hannah and that day, pushing away the things I saw and heard and felt this evening, their picture vivid in my mind. Dr. Lydell touches me and I whimper, pushing him away. When Hannah left in July, Mother didn't take me to the store anymore. She left me with Grandmother for a week, and then Grandmother said it wouldn't work out. I then went back to day care for a few weeks, and finally, I stayed at home with Mother's new boyfriend. Mother's boyfriend is Robbie and he calls me Princess Jude and carries me on his shoulders. His hair is blonde like mother's and he wears cowboy hats and thick boots, but he doesn't act much like Mother. He tells me I should call her Mommy or Shelley, or something not so formal. But I can't. Mother makes me call her Mother. Robbie. Robbie. Oh please please God make this go away. My tears are like rain now, slicking my face with sadness. After father left, Mother moved in with her best friend Scott, and he liked to play Diana Ross at full volume and we would sing together and dance around the living room. Scott's boyfriend, James, left him a week before we moved in, stealing his car, television, microwave, stereo and VCR, and even didn't pay the rent. So Mother and I stayed until James came back and Scott told Mother it wasn't a good idea for me to be there. It wasn't a good idea for me to be there. Today wasn't a good idea for me to be there, but it's my house and my mother and my Robbie. I'm his Princees, he can't have gone away. The letters there on the bathroom mirror and the blood everywhere. . .I was going to call him Daddy. That's when we moved in with Robbie. I like Robbie. He sings me to sleep and watches me while Mother works because he does business from his computer. Sometimes, he lets me make decisions about the colors he needs, or the kind of brick looks best in his homes. Robbie told me I could call him Daddy if I wanted to. I wasn't sure if I wanted to or not. Today comes crashing back down on me, like a hand holding me down, pressing my face into the cold tile of this room. Robbie took me to the mall where Mother's store was, and we went to a pet shop. We played with the puppies until dinner time and then ate hot dogs. Robbie promised to try and talk Mother into a dog and then we drove home again. That's when everything went bad. The policemen came and got me after someone heard me crying and they called the FBI because things were strange, they said. They want me to talk about it, but I can't. I just can't make my voice work. Robbie is dead and Mother is bloody. ====== Scully drove them from the airport and to the Hoover building, eyes more intent on beating the DC traffic than on any possible threat by an armed assailant. Mulder was ever watchful beside her, hands clenched tightly around his weapon and head turning to take everything in. They made it safely with the informant, and followed the group to the ISU headquarters, strange emotions running through Scully. She wasn't sure if she liked the place, with the memories of Bill Patterson's manipulations and his eventual downfall. Mulder had been through hell here, and he too was wary in the presence of profilers. "Agent Mulder?" He turned around to see the new head of the ISU motioning to him, his face like a red thundercloud, tie askew. Robert Border looked like death warmed over. He looked like he ran the ISU. Scully paused with him, watching the agent they had picked up at the airport keep on going, the informant trailing behind. Mulder tugged on her jacket and they moved to where Border was standing. "That case you were vying for?" Mulder glanced to Scully, aware of her ignorace of the situation and dispelling her questions with a shake of his head. "Has another one come up?" "Yeah. In Memphis. Skinner said you were looking to take it over. You need the reports, or do you have everything?" "I've got it then?" Border glanced to Scully and managed a smile to put her at ease. "You and Agent Scully. Leave today." Mulder nodded, his mouth dry with the sudden fear that churned through him. It was a strange thing. "I've got everything but the evidence." "We'll get it shipped to you. It's in a warehouse in the Memphis Bureau. The ASAC there will meet you in the airport. Front desk here has your tickets." Mulder glanced to Scully and shrugged. "All right then. We'll be in Memphis." ====== Dr. Jack Lydell looked at Mulder with unveiled contempt, his glasses like owl eyes over tiny beady brown orbs that stared into him and picked apart his soul. Mulder didn't like the fierce protectiveness in his stance, nor the abject hostility that formed over the man like a cloud. For a child psychiatrist, Dr. Lydell didn't hold much empathy or engender much trust. No wonder the little girl wouldn't speak to him, Scully thought. Their one witness was curled into a ball in the corner of the room, one hand clutching a Madeline doll and the other attached to a thumb shoved deep into her mouth. She sucked madly on the little security thumb, her eyes drowsy with shock and fear. Her knees had brutal scrapes on them, and Scully counted four bruises on her arms, deep and black and painful looking. Mulder looked in at her, his frown of displeasure more at Dr. Lydell than the girl's reticence to speak. He shook his head and sat down next to Scully, letting the doctor remain standing. When he sat down, he liked the feeling that he was in control, that whatever Lydell would say to them really didn't matter in the long run. Agent Daniels had briefed them on the walk from the lobby to the interrogation room, explaining the scene when the police had arrived, and then, later, when the FBI had taken over the investigation. A neighbor called at 11:03 pm with a complaint about the noise, then called again at 11:47 to say that the little girl next door was huddled in a heap in the front yard and the woman couldn't get her to say anything, nor could she open the door. When the police arrived, the neighbor was hunkered over the child, who would not move to follow her inside. Upon forcing open the front door, the police found that it had been blocked by an unconscious woman, later learned to be the girl's mother, who was drenched with blood and clutching a splintered baseball bat. The man's body was found further into the foyer, 'very dead' as Daniels had put it, but without anything to suggest he had been beaten by the bat. Preliminary reports were saying he'd been attacked by an animal, but the writing on the mirror threw that theory out the window. Scully felt sick for what the child must have gone through, and she wished the sad little thing would talk to them. It could only start the healing process for the girl, help her get over the brutality of a murder she must have witnessed. Shelley Williams was now in intensive care at St. Francis, where her health insurance had sent her, and Robert James was in the morgue of the Memphis Medical Examiner. The little girl left to the pain of it all was a beautiful creature, like a bewildered black cat, with sleek dark brown hair and those no-color eyes that could be blue or grey or brown or green at any moment. Her skin was dark, hinting at an African American or Middle Eastern father, and her fingernails were bright and white on olive-skinned hands. The red hair of her Madeline doll caused a sharp contrast of bright and dark, with the thick pink lips of the child's mouth pressed tightly over her thumb, and the doll close to her face. "Mulder?" she said softly, realizing immediately that she had interrupted the doctor's long winded speech, but not sorry for it. Mulder gave his partner a small grin of relief, then trailed her gaze to the little girl in the room. She was standing slowly, moving from the corner of the holding room to the stiff metal chair at the low table. Her thumb still wedged in her mouth, the child yanked the chair away from the table, looking about as terrified as a hunted rabbit. With about as much nervous anxiety, too. When the metal chair had been dragged across the room and back to the corner, Scully and Mulder watched in amazement as she caged herself into the tiny space where wall met wall. Her back was snug against the corner, and her feet were tangled in the legs of the chair. After a moment, the child glanced around, looking for people or any hint of danger, then laid her head onto the chair's seat, her arms and doll cradling her head. After about five seconds, she was deeply asleep, curled tight and concentrated in the corner. Scully's heart shattered at the sight and she stood unknowingly, moving to the window. Her fingers streaked the glass and her breath fogged her vision. For the first time in a long time, she felt like crying. And all because of the child huddled into the corner. ====== The social worker had been stalled for as long as possible, the police dragging their heels on processing their reports until everyone had run out of time. When the civil servant walked into the room, the little girl was asleep, and all attempts to wake her had been met with a pouty and sleepy child. Mrs. Lash finally gave up; with two small children of her own she knew it was impossible to rouse an exhausted little one. She walked into the second room, the small windowed one that allowed the occupants to watch the interrogation room with cold distance. She hated the rooms, and wished the little girl could be taken away immediately, placed in foster care to get her out of staying at the police station. The FBI agents were wary when she came in, obviously having met some pretty awful social workers in their time, but she smiled brightly and sat down without them offering. "Look, I'm going to tell you exactly what's going to happen to your only witness, so don't get all prickly on me," she said, wishing she had it in her to hate them. The government was screwing the little children, like this one, who only needed love and a decent home. No more benefits, no more aid programs, all the shelters in Memphis had their budgets slashed and there was no more room. It was awful, it was vile, and no one cared but the street lawyers, the social workers, and the homeless. The rich Republicans said, 'get a job.' Little girls slept in cars and mothers prostituted to keep them in school. Men lost their jobs, good pay they'd had for twenty or more years, and didn't know how to do anything else, so they were left to the streets. Some were high and drunk every day, and it was an addiction they chose not to break. Addiction was better than living with reality. Victoria Lash knew the underbelly of society and protected them fiercely. She didn't want to have to bow to these stiff, well dressed agents fresh from DC. The woman held out her hand, a soft smile placed in her eyes but not in her lips. It was a credit for her, Lash had to admit. "I'm Dana Scully, and this is my partner, Fox Mulder. We don't want to know what's going to happen to our witness. We want to know what we can do for that little girl. The child psychologist the police called in was a crock." Lash grinned, despite her inherent mistrust of the government, and shook the woman's hand, glancing to the man, Mulder, for the same obvious concern. He was settling himself into a chair and giving her a luscious smile, the kind used by men who knew what their looks did to others. "Well. Good. I see too many instances where the police, the government, couldn't care less. I'm Victoria Lash and I'm a bit antagonistic." Scully nodded. She liked this woman; she didn't offer any apologies for her harsh treatment of them, only a kind of explanation. "So, what will happen to her?" "If I can get her name, we'll try to find some relatives for her to stay with. Grandparents, aunts, something. If she has no next of kin, she'll be placed with foster parents, or in a foster home. We currently have fifteen foster homes willing to receive a child at a moment's notice, so that's not a problem." "What if all the foster homes had been full?" "We'd place her in the care of a shelter, a special one for runaways and orphans. It's not an orphanage, strictly speaking, but close. It's called Memphis Protective/Child Services, and they place the children immediately. Most cases, anyway." "And what if she won't tell you her name?" Mulder asked, his voice like slow honey in the summer sun. Lash glanced to him, her eyes deadly and serious. "The same. Only, we won't look for relatives. We'll look through missing children reports. That could take months, though, and we would place her in a foster home until something was found. But I think she'll talk to me. Shock does awful things to kids, but they're very resilient; they bounce back." "Sometimes," Mulder said and Lash couldn't help but shiver. "So, as soon as she's placed, I'll get y'all the address and you can have scheduled visits to question her." Mulder frowned and Scully's friendliness turned down a notch. "Scheduled?" "Yes, Agent Scully. She's under the care of the state. It's required that all visits by those other than the foster family are scheduled. It's mainly to protect abused kids from their abusive families, neighbors, whomever. But it also will protect this little girl. You don't know what she saw. If there was a killer, besides that woman in the hospital, then that person could come after her." "Then we'll take her into protective custody, and *we'll* look after her." Lash frowned and shook her head, about to disagree, when Scully spoke up. "How come you can't look at birth records for this woman, Shelley Williams, and find out her name?" Victoria Lash knew this was coming; you couldn't be an FBI agent and not have some smarts. "Because," she said weakly, shaking her head. "For some reason, there is no record of Shelley Williams ever having existed, let alone giving birth. The Records Office moved recently, and it must have gotten lost." That sounded just a bit too fishy, even to Lash. ====== Scully tried to keep the worry from her voice after the social worker left, but it was there anyway. "Mulder, this woman, Lash, is going to do her job. She's not going to let us take this little girl with us, even if we try to claim protective custody." Mulder nodded. "I know. I don't like the idea of having to visit her in a foster home. . ." Scully was thinking about Emily, about having to see her own daughter in an orphanage, even when her flesh and blood was right there, wanting to claim her. Adoption procedures, red tape, it all had to be cut through, all the forms had to be filled out. Seriously, they couldn't adopt this little girl. She had a mother and a life, and a system that was going to protect her. Or, at least, Lash was going to protect her. "I guess we'll just schedule an appointment." Mulder frowned. "Yes. I hope it's a good family. . .If her mother wakes up, what happens?" He shook his head because he really did not know, and hadn't thought to ask. Her mother was such a far away thing. "I assume the mother will temporarily lose custody, not only because she's the prime suspect in a homicide, but because she has no proof of her maternal rights." "How did that happen, Mulder? That she and her daughter simply don't exist?" He shrugged and leaned back in the seat. "We need to start in on this case. There are the other thirteen to think about, try to muddle through a connection. I've been working on it on the side, and I could use some fresh ideas." She smiled softly at him. "I know you, Mulder. You just want someone around to congratulate you on your brilliant breakthrough." He flashed a sarcastic grin her way and stood up. "You know what they say, Scully. A victory shared it sweeter." "Let's get going then. We'll come back tomorrow, before the social worker, and see if we can get her to talk to us. I really want to know what happened in that house." ====== ====== Scully's tongue was poking between her lips as she probed the deep laceration on Robert James' chest. Mulder was standing at the back of the autopsy suite, breathing through the sleeve of his suit jacket, trying not to be sick. But the things she had found. . .she needed him as a witness. Just in case she later tried to tell herself she'd been imagining it all. She hadn't even had a chance to open the body cavity, still fascinated and repulsed by the deep scratches that scarred the man's body. Ripped and shredded as he was, she had a hard time identifying any distinct facial features. He had a shock of blonde hair and a winter tan in the places she could see. "It says in the police report that Robert James' records are also missing, Scully. The neighbors say he was in government contract work, building laboratories, army facilities, that kind of thing. He and Shelley Williams were going to get married. If his records were. . . disappeared. . .by the government, wouldn't it make sense to disappear her records too, if they were planning on tying the knot?" Mulder glanced up to read her expression, but she was deep in the autopsy. Catching a grunt of surprise from her, he slipped forward, coming to her side with a soft grace that made her jump. He glanced over her shoulder to the long gash across the man's chest, and the thick claw that she was digging from it. "What's that Scully?" he asked, almost breathless. He knew what it looked like to him; he wanted to hear it from her. "It's a claw." "And?" She frowned. "And it looks remarkably like the one we dug out of the wall of the home in Phoenix, Arizona." "Exactly like it. That alien thing. . .we never caught it, Scully. And Gibson- And Robert here works for the government. . ." "Mulder, this isn't. . .I don't think it's a good idea to jump to conclusions before we know what's going on. Maybe there's a completely different explanation for this. There's none of the evidence of . . . gestation. . .here." "It attacked the co-worker in Arizona, Scully. And now, this family. Both were working for goverment labs. Except this guy is only the contractor. . ." "Why did it let the mother go? She was unharmed, but for some minor injuries incurred from falling down the stairs. For all intents, Mulder, it looks as if she murdered this man." "Except for that long claw you've got there, and the deep gashes on this man. How do you think she would manage that?" "Some kind of implement. . ." "I recall you saying that in Arizona too. But in Arizona, this thing was newborn- it's not anymore." She frowned. That had been a difficult case, with strange and frightening truths buried in its depths. She still wasn't ready to face those truths. "Why the writing on the mirror, Mulder?" "Maybe it knows it's become a monster. . ." She couldn't grasp that either, and wasn't ready to give in to his ideas about the virus creating aliens within people. She hadn't seen anything, she hadn't been alive enough to be a good witness that cold time in the Antarctic. He wanted her undeniable proof, her belief, and she just couldn't give it. "I don't buy it." He clenched his teeth in a mix between a scream and a grunt. Whenever they came to this wall, he wanted to grasp her shoulders and shake her, *make* her believe. "Scully. . .why can't you just stop shutting out the fact that this is *very* real, and very dangerous? If you keep refusing to believe, it's going to get us both killed." Scully dropped the clawnail into the steel tray next to the gurney, controlling the sick feeling riding in her gut over this entire discussion. He saw her as being ignorant to the dwarfing forces of alien life on this planet, in their lifetime, while she was merely trying to discover the untainted truth. Their eyes had been blinded before. She wasn't going to let it happen again. "Scully, look at me. The time for stubborn refusal to believe is over, the time for pure, by the book reasoning is over. Science has its uses, but not here. Not with so much at stake." She closed her eyes painfully, trying to push down the rising despair. She didn't want this arguement between them again. After all those beautiful words in his hallway, and the passionate search to find her, she had thought. . .God. No. It was better to stop thinking about it. "Scully. . .do you think I would try so hard to prove it to you if you didn't mean something to me?" She swallowed a sob of concrete-heavy sorrow, knowing that he probably wanted to think as much, but didn't mean it. It was fast thinking, once again, to keep her from running. He needed her, yes, but not how she wanted to be needed. No. No, she didn't want anything. She didn't need his approval, or his misguided faith. In the end, he had put his trust in other places, rather than her. In the end, none of what she'd tried to tell him mattered. "Mulder. . .we'll talk to the little girl; see what she says. Then we'll go from there." He frowned at her. She hadn't given in to anything, and while he might have admired that quality in her once, it was not the time for it now. "Fine," he said, and turned away. She bit her lip furiously to keep from crying. ====== When my eyes open there are bars guarding my way, making me safe again. The slats of the chair rise before my view, and my Madeline's red hair fringes my face with soft caresses. My legs feel numb from falling asleep in the strange position and my hands tingle with blood loss. Licking my dry lips, I lift my head and look out. Fear hitches deep in my gut and I want to close my eyes, but I'm afraid of what will happen. The woman sitting on the other side of the table was watching me wake up, and her eyes were flickering with blue against the bright flourescent lights. "Good morning." I open my mouth and slip my thumb inside, sucking on the soft, raisin-puckered skin, forgetting all the spankings from Mother for doing it. "It's all right, sweetheart. You're okay here. I just wanted to see how you were doing." I watch her intently, squeezing Madeline to my chest and pushing back into the corner, feeling the safety of the walls against my sides and digging into my ribs. "You had a good long sleep last night. I made sure no one came in and disturbed you. Can you tell me your name, now?" I push aside the memory of Mother's smile, which so closely mirrors this woman's, and lay my head on the chair again, knowing that she will continue to sit there and wait, or keep talking. It doesn't matter anyway. She looks like my Madeline doll, with the red hair and white skin. I watch her watch me, finding no need to talk, and no ability to either, even if I wanted to. Everything that happened is like a very bad dream, distant and unaccessible. I don't want to find it either. Something very bad happened. . .something. . . I shiver and close my eyes for a moment. The door opens and I jerk back, shrinking into the corner, wild and panicked and so sure that it's going to happen again, it's going to come after me now. . . I hear noises and faintly realize that it is coming from my own throat, the mewling like that of the kittens Mother used to cuddle too hard, and the dog that the boyfriends used to hit. I can't stop the sounds and I can't keep the fear from clawing through me like sharp knives, and the room around me dims. Blackness explodes in little fireworks of nothing and I slump to the chair. ====== Mulder gaped in the doorway, his hands trembling as he stared at the child. She had passed out from her fear, maybe from the memories, and her hands dangled through the slats. Her dark brown hair was spilled over the chair and those dark coffee eyes were closed. He wished he had walked in earlier, before she had woken up. "Mulder. . ." "I didn't realize. . ." She sighed and he moved into the room and over to the little girl, sliding her hands back through the slats to rest on the chair. She stirred, but did not wake, and Mulder had the temptation to take her into his arms and hold her close. Her pulse was steady and her heart beat strong, her breath coming at a regular pace. She would be okay. Once she was free of the chair, he nestled her into the corner, then sat down beside Scully. "Did she say anything?" "No. But she didn't seem afraid of me." "Because you were here when she woke up, you were a part of the existing environment. She must be used to abrupt changes, moving around a lot, new people coming into her life." Scully nodded, knowing that it all made sense, but really didn't help much. The girl was still afraid, and still had memories locked away behind the door of mute sorrow. It was their job to solve this case, solve the thirteen other cases that all had those chilling words smudged into the bathroom mirror. 'Please stop me.' The bloody smears on the mirror, the claw in the man's chest, and the mother's fingerprints on the glass, were all pieces to this puzzle, things that would later fit, but for now, merely clashed and warred with each other. Why was she unconscious, why was the girl found outside, why was the door locked, why had the killer let the mother and child escape? Scully shivered and watched the child asleep in the corner, wondering what kinds of horror this little girl had been through to come to such a place. Her mother, unconscious in the hospital, the man dead in the foyer, and a bloody scene of tragedy were the only remnants of this child's life. Was there a killer on the loose, or had the murders stopped with the hospitalization of this little girl's mother? ====== Victoria Lash was there when the child woke up again, and this time, she was much more calm about all the people, resorting to merely sticking her thumb in her mouth and watching them. Lash sat down in the floor beside her, looking at the Madeline doll with a thoughtful expression. "Hey, darlin'. That's a beautiful doll you've got." The girl nodded, her eyes slipping from Lash to the agents sitting at the table. She deemed them more of a threat than the woman sitting in front of her, but her eyes glanced back and forth for a moment, unsure. "Is that Madeline? My little girl has a Madeline doll. And a lunchbox too. Do you have a lunchbox?" The girl shook her head and glanced to her doll, then squeezed it tightly and looked up at Agent Scully, eyes blinking. Curious George. . . she had the monkey lunch box. Broken. "I'm Vickie, darlin'. What's your name?" "Judith." "Oh, that's a beautiful name, Judith." She had been expecting some kind of awful thundercloud of flurry at saying her name, but there was nothing. Just a quiet acceptance. "Thank you." "Hey, Judith, that woman over there is Dana, and her friend is Fox--" "Ah," Mulder interrupted, shaking his head. "It's Mulder." Judith's face was instantly peering intently at his. "Fox. . ." she said. He sighed and shook his head. "Mulder." She shrugged and looked back to Vickie, seeking guidance, some kind of formula or pattern to follow. Children craved stability in a neediness that even old men set in their ways could never feel. "They want to ask you some things, but you don't have to answer anything if you don't want to. You just tell me and I'll make them stop." Mulder looked ready to protest, but stayed quiet at the warning look Scully shot him. Judith was staring at Scully, her lips pulled back into a kind of smile, or maybe a grimace. She held her doll tightly and stroked its face with a soft finger. Victoria noticed and glanced to the child's object of scrutiny, wondering what the connection was. "Oh. Judith, she looks like Madeline, doesn't she?" Judith's delighted smile made everyone in the small room instantly feel more at ease, and she nodded happily. "Madeline," she said and leaned against the wall. It was a gesture for comfort though, not protection, and Lash knew that she was being trusted. She would work valiantly not to lose that trust. It was precious. It was only the red hair, but still, it was enough to establish a kind of understanding, so Mulder nodded for Scully to ask her questions. "Hello, Judith. I'm Dana, remember?" "Yes." "Is it okay if you answer some questions?" "Yes." Scully grinned suddenly with the girl's very serious answers, then leaned forward. "Would you like to get that chair and sit at the table?" Her eyes narrowed and her head thrashed back and forth in a definite no. "That's okay. I'm going to sit on the floor with you then, and Mulder is too." She added Mulder name's on a spur of the moment decision and he gave her a scowl, but complied, sliding to the floor next to them. "Okay, Judith. Comfortable?" "Yes." "Has anyone told you about your mother, Judith?" "She's in the hospital. She doesn't want to see me." Scully's face dropped, but she shook her head and gave the girl a tiny smile. "She's in the hospital and she's sleeping right now. It's not that she doesn't want to see you, it's just that she can't. We don't know if it's safe for you to see her. Is it safe, Judith?" The girl glanced from Scully to Victoria then back to Mulder. When she said nothing, and continued to simply watch them, Victoria knew it was time to move on. Children, when confronted with tragedy, often chose to completely ignore the bad things that had happened. "Will you tell us your whole name, Judith?" "Judith Marie Williams." "And how old are you, Judith Marie?" The child shivered, remembering the way her mother said her name when she was angry, just like that 'Judith Marie.' But Vickie didn't sound angry with her. "Four." "Oh, four years old already. Wow. You're a very big girl." Judith's eyes narrowed. She was too old for adults to start in on the baby talk, especially stuff like that. Of course, she was simply a girl, not really very big nor very small. She just was. "Do you know your birthday, Judith?" A hesitant pause, then a surprised, "No," that obviously hurt her as much as it shocked her. "Do you ever celebrate your birthday?" "Oh yes. Robbie got me a pretty party dress and. . .and. . ." She stopped, her eyes turning inward to a scene and a place they could only guess at. She didn't continue with her description and her small hands clutched her doll tightly. Vickie thought it best to draw her out of the memories, get her talking again before she slipped into a state of shock again. "Judith, honey. Do you know when your birthday was? Was it summer or during school?" "I don't got to school. I got to day care. I have school tomorrow." "Tomorrow?" Mulder said, glancing to Vickie. She shook her head and mouthed, 'next year'. Usually, kids had no sense of time when they weren't old enough to go to school, and tomorrow was always a long way off in their minds. "Do you have a little girl, Fox?" Mulder groaned and sighed heavily, then hunched forward. "No, Judith. I don't have a little girl. And it's Mulder, all right, sweetie?" "Do you want a little girl?" "Are you offering?" he said, grinning but feeling his heart breaking. This poor child, without knowledge of her birthday and with her mother in the hospital, was aching for love. "No. Just wondering if you wanted one." He laughed and leaned against the wall, wishing he could hug her for that little comment. "Is your Madeline your girl friend?" Mulder turned in surprise to Scully, who was smiling broadly with the exchange between them. "Yuck. Girls have cooties," he said and made a face, sticking out his tongue. The girl shrieked and began to laugh, obviously needing the outlet, for soon, her laughter turned to sobs, and she was huddled in Mulder's arms, weeping with abandon. Mulder looked shocked, and he awkwardly patted her head then rubbed her back, fearful that he'd caused her pain. Scully bit her lip, watching them, and Vickie eased over to gather the child into her arms, rocking her back and forth. "It's all right, darlin'; go ahead and cry it all out. And when all your tears are done, everything that happened will be okay to talk about. Everything is okay, and you can just talk and talk and feel so much better." Mulder was impressed. The social worker was using a rudimentary form of hypnosis, where the girl's own rhythmic sobbing induced a trancelike condition which allowed any suggestions Vickie made to become embedded in her unconscious. It was great. It was something he'd never seen done before, and wasn't techinically the best idea. But she was careful not to suggest events or memories for the girl to remember. "You just tell everything that's hurting you, darlin', and Mr. Mulder and Dana and I will make it all better." After a moment, the girl's sobs lessened and her heart rate slowed under Vickie's hand. Once her tears were dry and her body had stopped shaking, she lifted her head and gazed at them from a sheen of tear-stained eyes and thick brown hair. "Robbie wanted me to call him Daddy. He wanted a little girl, and he was going to marry Mother. I think so anyway. When we came home from the mall. . .when we came home there was Mother and she was shaking. She looked afraid. She said there was a monster." Mulder's eyebrows raised and Scully frowned, not sure if the little girl's testimony would turn out to be a contorted version of reality, or her own fantasy. "Robbie looked like your Madeline does now," she said, pointing to Scully. "He shook his head and went upstairs, my hand in his, and we went to the bathroom in their room. The door was open and it was cold in there, and I shivered. The mirror had these words written on them, like I used to do with Mother's lipstick." "Can you read, Judith?" Mulder asked softly. "No. Can you?" "Yes." "Oh-kay. I know some letters. There was an 'h', cause that's in my name. And an 't' cause that's in my name too. I don't know anymore than that." "That's all right. What else do you remember?" "Robbie teased Mother about being scared but she was mad and she yelled at him for not believing her. Then. . .then something happened and we weren't alone anymore." "What was there?" "I. . .a monster. Something was there and it looked right at me and sort of winked, but in both eyes. Robbie pushed me out of the bathroom and shoved Mother after me. The door slammed shut and Mother pounded on it, calling Robbie's name and crying. I could hear him. . .hear him screaming. He kept screaming and screaming until it just-just stopped." She was taking very shaky breaths and her eyes were filled with frightened tears. Scully reached out a hand to touch her, but both Mulder and Vickie stopped her from doing it. Anything could jolt her from the almost-trance the soft words and tears had pushed her into, and as much as the girl needed comfort, she needed to talk more. "Then it came at us. Mother pushed past me and ran down the stairs and it shoved past me, all slick and slimey. It tackled Mother and I ran for the door, screaming and crying. I tripped. . .or someone tripped me and I fell." "Is that all?" Vickie asked the question calmly, in her low, soothing voice. "Yes." "Can you describe the man you saw?" "It was all shadows. With claws. And a thin face with dark dark eyes. Big eyes that winked slowly." Scully recalled the autopsy she had performed the night before, while the girl slept. Robert James had long, animal-like slashes in his chest and head, and she had extracted several claws. It dovetailed perfectly with what the girl was telling them, and with the testimony Mulder had given her of that night in the nuclear power station. The violent attack that night, seeing Gibson in the room, and the thing he had seen. She never wanted this to come up again, never wanted to have to think about the creature, the alien? loose and killing things. In the heat of things, when Mulder's eyes were staring hard into hers and the facts were a jumbled mess of things, everything he told her made sense. She wanted to believe, she really did, but not when it couldn't be substantiated. When science told her it couldn't be possible, then she would rather err on the side of caution. She had given Mulder the science, explained to him the reasons and the tests and the discovieries. They thought Gibson was the key to the X-Files, but it seemed as if he was the key to something much larger, much more grand than they had ever thought. Worldwide alien life in every human on earth. But everyone on the planet couldn't have a part of them that was extra-terrestrial, because didn't that then make the argument void? It wasn't extra-terrestrial if it was already found on the planet. Had the aliens been here much longer than anyone really knew? Were humans the *real* aliens to this earth? "Judith, do you know what Robbie's job was?" Mulder asked. "Uh. He's an architect for the president. All these men come to the house and give him money adn they tell him not to say anything. He told me that once he and Mother got married, we would have to move. He said it was dangerous not to. I didn't understand him." Scully held her breath and refused to look at Mulder, who she was sure was gloating. She just wanted it to go away. All of the insanity to stop haunting her. Stop making her feel as if her partnership with Mulder was fast becoming extinct. ====== ====== The motel room was drowning in liquid dark, inky and murky and suffocating. Mulder tossed restlessly on the sheets and tried to sleep, his body a slick sheen of sweat. The air conditioner was broken, and he was rapidly heating up, his cheeks and chest flushed and his hands on fire. Even his toes were hot and steaming. Memories of the ship in the ice made him shiver in a perverted sense of fear, and he closed his eyes tightly. He was hot because. . .because it was summer and the air conditioner was broken and Memphis was having an amazing heat wave. And it was Elvis Week. Strange things happened during Elvis Week. He was not growing some alien in his chest cavity and he was not about to be mauled by the thing. Right? With a panicked surge, Mulder was off his bed and heading for the connecting door, ignoring his rationalizations and justifications. He was hot and this case was freaking him out. The doorknob turned easily under his palm and he sneaked inside her room, slipping through the shadows to her bedside. Her face was pressed into the pillow, and sweat had darkened the hair curling around her forehead and cheek. Her fingers were caught tightly in the sheets, which lay in a tangled heap at her side. Her legs were smooth and bare as light from the motel parking lot filtered through the window. The silk shift covered her only to mid-thigh and he was allowed a beautiful expanse of milky skin to haunt his eyes. She was asleep. He shouldn't bother her. In this heat, she'd never get back to sleep if he did. Licking his chapped, dry lips, Mulder leaned forward and planted a soft brush of a kiss on her forhead, tasting the salt of sweat and the perfume of lotion as he did. She stirred softly but did not wake, and he leaned back, breathing easy again. He was hot because the air conditioner had broken, and because Memphis was still an uncomfortable 80 degrees at midnight. He couldn't imagine how hot it would be when the sun came out. And the humidity. . . Backing away from Scully's bed, Mulder inched towards the door, then shuffled into his own room. It seemed just a bit cooler and he cranked the fan on high and angled it towards his bed. The matress slumped as it took his weight, and he kicked off the sheets to lay there on his back, exhausted. Tomorrow he'd think about the hungry, repentant alien monster on the loose. Tonight, he'd feel the fan blow lazily across his chest and stir his hair and pretend it was Scully's hand drifting as she slept beside him. Scully believing in him and admitting the truth. ====== Victoria Lash could not sleep, and she wondered about the little girl she had taken to the foster home that evening. Judith had a grandmother in Europe vacationing who couldn't be reached, and a grandfather who had no idea who she was, had never heard of his daughter's child. The girl had been allowed to look in on her mother, but not for long, and then Lash had driven her to the Agape program's headquarters in Midtown. The woman who helped spearhead the program was in the office, making phone calls, when Vickie came in. She had smiled at Judith and then gave her a soft hug. Carolyn Moore was just about the greatest, most benevolent mother and woman Lash had ever met. She had a wonderful enthusiasm for children, and she managed to take care of her own four girls and husband without giving any less to Agape. She was planning on retiring in a year so that she could be at home more, and her replacement worked hard alongside her every day, learning the ropes. David Jordan was just as enthusiastic and the program had been very successful. Agape was a private adoption agency, but Lash had special permission to take the kids there that needed good homes. Applicants for foster homes had to be good Christians with stable families, and the state of Tennessee was all too happy to have these people find homes for the kids. No fees were incurred if the child was African American, and so a lot of poor children were placed in this program. Judith, being a racial mix, was one of those kids, and the agency took to her immediately. They called a foster family that night and had them drive to their headquarters on Union Avenue to pick her up. The Keys were a bright and energy-filled family, with two kids of their own that were above fifteen years old. They were anxious to meet Judith and had her laughing before they left. It still gave Vickie a pain to watch the little girl leave, but it was something that had to be done, and something she had goten used to. Working for an almost ineffectual government and state system had led her to unbelievable travesties, and the poor she saw daily always pricked her conscience. Judith's soft brown hair and big brown eyes haunted her, and the tears that had spilled as she remembered the monster her mother had seen made Vickie want to take the girl home herself. Agents Mulder and Scully already had an appointment with the Keys and Judith for tomorrow, at one o'clock that Sunday afternoon. It had to be late because they had church in the mornings. Vickie couldn't imagine that kind of life, love, and dedication. Willing to set yourself up for pain and hurt by being a foster family for however many months, or years, or weeks it took until an adoption could be made. Going to church, doing your common routines, dealing with whatever insecurities or problems the foster kid had, and yet, knowing the love was transitory, was likely to leave in a month. It took all her energy to simply hand over the children to Agape, to Child Services of Memphis, to whatever organization that had foster families available. It took all her spirit to go home at night and crawl into bed next to her husband and forget them. Judith would not be forgotten. Her story would not leave Vickie's memory, and her haunting pain would not keep from tainting her life. Rising from the bed, Vickie padded barefoot into the den, then went to her desk and powered on her iMac computer, which the county had actually bought for thirteen of the social workers. Of course, Child Services had been asking for new computers for the last ten years, and only now, after wearing the state down, had they received the new models. These were good computers though, and easy to use. She pulled up the internet connection and signed on, tapping her nails against the mousepad with a kind of distilled anxiety. Vickie knew there was something very different to this case, something in the way the FBI agents shared those looks, or in the memories Judith had told them. She glanced around the room, then walked into her kids' rooms, watching them sleep as the computer powered up. Her little girl had kicked her sheet, and Vickie tucked it back around her, kissing her forehead softly. She went back to the den and sat down. Using her access to state records, Vickie looked for any similar cases, where a man had been attacked like Robert James, with the words on the mirror. Nothing reported in Memphis, nothing in Tennessee, in fact. She expanded the search northward, thinking the killer had followed the river, was maybe heading for New Orleans. There was a single report in Little Rock, Arkansas, on a tributary of the Mississippi River, but nothing at all north of Memphis. Vickie glared at the screen and tried to think of some pattern this killer was following, some kind of hint. She typed a command into the search engine and asked for the police reports for the Little Rock homicide. At present it was unsolved, the case remaining open and investigation turned over to the FBI, Agents Mulder and Scully. Vickie wasn't surprised. They had to have come to Memphis for a reason, besides Elvis Week. Although, she wouldn't doubt that Agent Mulder was a fan. She read it quickly, noted all the similarities of it to this case, to Judith's case. No survivors in Little Rock, just one dead man who worked for the government, in the Little Rock airport, and had been found in his home. Same message in blood on the bathroom mirror, same slashes across the abdomen and chest. There were pictures too, but she quickly moved past those. Reading about it and seeing it were two different things. Vickie nibbled on her lip and thought for a long time, watching the black lines of the words dancing before her sleep deprived eyes and jumping in her mind. Little Rock airport . . . The jolt of deduction was like lightning and Vickie sat up straight in her desk chair, heart thumping. She closed her eyes and thought about the map of the United States, the major cities in the Midwest, trying to find the next big airport. Chicago was one, but she had already done a search northward, and found nothing. Little Rock was small, it had to have a major city it routed all flights through. Memphis, Chicago, Minneapolis, and Houston. Houston. She clicked on the search engine again and type in Houston, waiting anxiously as she thought about it longer. The killer had been in Little Rock, then hopped a flight to Memphis, right? So where had it been before Little Rock? Houston. Four deaths. She felt the blood drain from her face. All four cases open and investigated by Agents Mulder and Scully. There was even a case note at the bottom, referring her to seven other case files in which the same set of circumstances were present. She felt sick. Who was this guy, killing people as he flew from city to city, hopping flights to the next victim. He wanted to be stopped, but he kept on moving. She didn't know why, didn't understand the connections, the clues. He had been bloody and angry, slashing and ripping out bowels, but leaving no fingerprints. She didn't know how that was possible, to be so cold and precise with the planning, then so uncontrolled and wild in the killing. The autopsy report listed a small nail found in the first Houston victim's leg, as if broken off during the violent attack. She wondered how a nail could be found but no fingerprints. It was strange to have the brutality of the murder without a wide range of hard forensic evidence to go on. After investigating further, she found the other cases, and read them without stopping. It took five hours, and lots of courage, but all the details were there. There had even been witnesses to some of them, witnesses who described a monster, even one who called it an alien. Large eyes, nictating membranes like a frog, and that skinny face. Long claws and slimey. She didn't understand it, not at all. One thing she did notice. They all worked for the government is some fashion or another. Some one out there hated the government, hated what the United States had done to him. Vickie made some notes and decided she had done enough to soothe her conscience. She would talk to the agents in the morning, and tell them all she had found. ====== I slip downstairs, trying not to wake the family, or the dogs that sleep in the backyard. The Keys family has a small house off Walnut Grove Road, and they own two cars and have one car for their teenaged son, Wayne. They're different from anything I've ever known before. They have a mother and father and no one is ignored. The mother works as a teacher and the father is a stockbroker. He has restricted hours though, so he gets home at six o'clock every day, never works longer and always has time for his kids. My Mother would take the day off or get off early and she would go out with her friends, then come home drunk and giggling. I hated those times, hated the way she would frown at me, then go pass out on the couch. She would yell at me for not waking her up the next morning, and then stumble off to work an hour late. Robbie used to put her to bed, even when she called him Jeff or Judd or some other wrong name, some other boyfriend from years ago. And Robbie would explain that Mother needed to sleep, that's all. Just sleep. Mother always talked about the people that worked for her, how they were disrespectful and rude and never paid any attention when she told them to do something. I knew that wasn't true because I used to stay at Mother's work with Hannah watching me. Robbie once told me that Mother had fifteen years of retail experience, and she thought she deserved leaving early, deserved the days off. Robbie had laughed when he said it, then shook his head and said that Mother was a 'funny girl.' He said she thought she was still a little girl princess. The couch in the Keys house is worn and smooth, and smells like doghair, but it's comfortable and reminds me of home. Mother should wake soon, I know, and when she wakes up, she'll ask for me and I'll get to go home. The Keys are nice, but I don't want to live here, to start all over. Mother may be flighty, like Judd said once, or kind of dumb, like Robbie said once, but she wants me. She wants me. I stare out the window, watching the moon hide behind the trees and clouds, and the soft glow it casts on the neighborhood. Our house is bigger, with a great diamond-sparkling chandelier in the foyer and a dining table that was made of pure cherry wood. Mother's proud of those things and she has a maid service come clean it every Friday. Our neighbors all have wrought iron fences with large dogs behind them who snarl and growl as little girls like me go by, and Robbie protects me. Robbie used to protect me. He was protecting me that other night too, pushing me and Mother out of the bathroom and to safety. He's gone now. Mother's in the hospital. I don't want her to die. My eyes close as I see it all again: Robbie's cold eyes sparking with fear as he shuts the door, Mother's pounding as she hears the screams, feeling the banister dig into my back as I move away. It wasn't a man. It wasn't a man. I remember that very clearly, the eyes, the snarl of teeth in a fine small mouth, the long fingers with sharp claws, some broken and bloody as he ripped through the bathroom door. Mother pushing me aside and running, getting tackled as she headed down the stairs, the feel of that thing brushing by me. What happened next? I don't really remember very well. I was running for the door, my hands were bloody, the thing was breathing right next to my ear and. . .there was a dog, barking. I remember that. I tripped and fell. But when I woke up, I was outside on the lawn, and the neighbor lady was holding me. How did I get on the lawn? How did Mother get in the foyer, away from the stairs? My eyes open and I look out the window, shivering with the memories, knowing that something very wrong has happened to us. Something that shouldn't be. Mother always says there's no such thing as monsters, no real life Draculas, nothing under my bed. She's wrong now. She's wrong. I turn to the stairs, ready for sleep now, the nightgown I borrowed swishing around my feet and dragging on the floor. The darkness terrifies me and I wish I hadn't come downstairs. There are strange noises, like the creakings of the house and the moanings of the humid air pushing on the wooden door. I frown and pause at the bottom step. Pushing on the door? Suddenly it's cold again, the tiny hairs on my arms rise like the dead, and my feet still on the carpet-clad step. The door creaks again, bulges. I stare straight up the stairs, into the darkness of the hallway, not daring to breathe, so still, so still. Oh God. Oh God. My breath is harsh and panting, whistling between my clenched teeth and huffing out into the darkness. Fists tightly squeezed, I turn around, shaking as I wait for the noise. The door is quivering. The dark night is outside, lit only by a lamp down the street, casting the walkway in front of the door in shadows. The bushes scrape against the window to the side of the front porch, but there is no wind. Someone's out there..... Oh God. Oh God. I can't breathe, I can't move, I can't remember who I am. The handle twists. Oh God. . . Catches, locked, the sound of an angry, wailing thing behind the door. A thump of frustration, a sliver of light penetrates the walkway outside. A face peers into the window. I scream and run. ====== Scully was jerked awake by the ringing of her cellular phone, and she grabbed it quickly from the bedside dresser, licking her lips and rubbing her forehead. "Scully." Her voice sounded scratchy and sleepy, but she soon woke as the words from the man on the phone penetrated her foggy haze. "When did this happen?" she said sharply, standing and grabbing her suit from the closet. More explanations and a hurried good-bye and then she was pulling on her pants and gripping her shirt with one hand while she hung up with the other. Scully yanked open the connecting door as she pulled her night gown over her head, then realized what she was doing and shut the door. Shaking her head, she pulled on a bra and her soft, blue T-shirt, glad for whatever had prompted her to bring more casual clothes. Throwing habit, she stuffed her feet into her running shoes, knowing she had to be prepared. The door knob was in her fist before she realized she was dressed, and she moved into Mulder' motel room as the alarm clock switched to two a.m. He was asleep in a chair in the corner of the room, his head down on the tiny plastic table, with one hand curled around his gun. She frowned and slipped the weapon from his fingers, then touched his shoulder gently. When he woke, his finger tightened on what would have been the trigger and she was glad his weapon still had the safety on and was far away from his hand. He blinked and she literally watched the horror dawn and the haze clear. One look showed him that she had placed his gun out of his reach, and he gave her a sheepish and ashamed grimace. "Mulder, Shelley Williams has been murdered." His eyebrow arched nearly off his forehead and he bolted up, grabbing his weapon. "I could feel it, Scully. God, I should have gone out there." "What? Feel what?" she said, putting a restraining hand on his bicep. He was clad only in his boxers, but still sweating in the night's humidity. His skin was clammy with his sweat but burned her fingers like a frying pan. She pushed him toward his closet and he grabbed for his jeans and a T-shirt. "I woke up with a bad feeling, and I went in your room, but you were okay. I thought I woke you up but I guess not." She nodded. "I don't remember it." "But, see, Scully? I knew something would happen tonight, I could feel it. These are the only witnesses so far that should have been victims. I mean, the creature meant to kill them, was there to kill them, but couldn't. Now it's come back." "Yes, but there were other witnesses. Like the man in Houston." "The monster didn't know about him. He was hiding in the closet." He gave her a pointed look and she knew he was thinking about the mudman from Arcadia and how she'd been stuffed in the closet for protection. Mudman. She sighed. "I guess you've already noticed that the victims have all been government workers, right? So why go after a little girl's mother?" Mulder shrugged. "Maybe this thing wants everyone to hurt. . .everyone who was associated with a government that hurt him. Does this alien know. . .does it know what it is, Scully?" She sighed and closed her eyes. "Hurry up and get dressed, Mulder. We've got to get over there." "No. We have to go get that little girl. She's next." Scully froze, her breath harsh in her mouth. "Where was she placed? Mulder, we have an appointement tomorrow, but Victoria Lash never told us where she was going. . ." Mulder slid his weapon into the leather holster, then took her shoulder. "We'll call Lash. We'll make it in time." Her hands trembling, she pulled Lash's business card from Mulder's suit pants' pocket. The card jumped in her fingers but she dialled quickly on her cellular, holding her breath as she waited. Mulder led her to the car and started it just as Lash came on the line. "Judith's in trouble. We need to know where she's at." ====== ====== The house was dark with night when they approached, and the doors were locked tight with no trace of a forced entry. Mulder saw no claw marks, no evil eyes staring at them from the trees. He expected blood and death, but only found a family fast asleep, and a neighborhood put to bed. They rang the doorbell, Victoria's face anxious and disturbed, unsure if she could really trust anyone, much less the agents who had roused her from her hour of sleep. She had read the reports, did not doubt the child was in trouble, but they had told her nothing. If they wouldn't trust her, how could she trust them? The door opened after persistent ringing, and Mr. Larry Keys stumbled to invite them in, his owlish eyes blinking in the porch light. His wife, Mary, arrived behind him, her robe wrapped tight around her body with the belt knotted and her arms crossed. Larry offered to make some decaf tea, and Mary showed them to the living room. Mulder refused to move from the hall. "We need to take Judith with us, Mrs. Keys. She's in trouble, and we don't want your family to be caught in the midst of this." "She's what?" "Some. . .one is after her." Mary Keys looked to Vickie Lash for direction, then to the noises her husband was making from the kitchen. Her son, Wayne, trailed down the stairs looking alert and awake. "What's going on, Mom?" "Uh. . .they want to take Judith back." "What for?" "She's in trouble," Mulder repeated, looking intently at the woman and ignoring everything else around him. It was hard for anyone to keep their calm when his dark eyes stared intensely into the soul, his hands clenched in fists with the barely contained urge to shake something. "Wayne, go get Judith." She didn't ask why he was up; she knew the answer. Online, again. He was net surfer, all hours of the day, stuck behind that screen, then outside for close encounters with real humanity and the church, then back again. School would start soon, and still, he'd be there, e-mail, websites, whatever. They'd given up on changing him. He had a job, he went to church, he did his homework. Wayne bolted back up the stairs as Larry Keys walked into the hall, handing a cup of tea to Victoria, then offering one to the woman agent. She refused, then the man refused, so Larry shrugged and downed the cup himself. Mary hated tea. Hated coffee. Hated water. She loved milk. Loved Coke. That was it. Larry shook his head. He wasn't thinking right; it was four in the morning. Or maybe three. Or maybe two. He wasn't sure, even though he had just looked at the clock. His mind was in a muddle. Wayne came down the stairs carrying Judith, whispering to her and patting her back. "What's going on?" Larry Keys said. "Agent Scully and I are taking her into protective custody, Mr. Keys. Basically, we just want to keep her, and your family, safe." Judith was wiggling to get down, her Madeline doll clutched in one white-knuckled hand. She walked over to Mulder and tugged on his T-shirt, her lips pressed tightly together. Mulder leaned over and she whispered into his ear. Scully tensed at the look that came over Mulder's face, her hand going for her gun instinctively. "Mulder?" she snapped, and his eyes met hers. She nodded and headed back outside, walking carefully over the threshhold. Mulder left Judith inside with Victoria Lash and the Keys, then followed his partner to the front lawn, clenching his weapon in his hand. "She said she saw its face at the window right here. It tried to open the door. She ran upstairs and hid under the bed." Scully's face blanched at the news, still half disbelieving somewhere in her, but knowing now that it was all true, to some extent. Mulder grabbed her belt loop when she moved off, putting his lips close to her ear. "I don't want us separating, Scully. This thing is too powerful, too quick." She didn't want to hear that he was afraid of it, or even that he had a healthy respect for the danger. She wanted him to say he could take it with one hand tied behind his back, no matter how much of a lie it was. She needed some kind of reassurance. He sensed her tension and gripped her elbow tightly. "Don't worry. It probably left already." They circled the dark property side by side, her hip nearly pressed into his thigh, but their stance wide and clear of each other. Scully's flashlight chased away corners of darkness, but the night swallowed everything else. They trained their weapons on the bushes, on the trees, over the playground in the backyard. The fence was high and lit eerily by the faint light from the street, making it glow in the relative black. He tapped her shoulder and she jumped, eyes wide and wild, her heart racing. He didn't grin, he didn't apologize. "Let's go. It's clear for now." They headed carefully back to the house, then hustled Lash and the little girl from the front door to their car, offering no explanations. Lash had told Judith that her mother had died, then the entire family had held her tightly, loving her as the agents searched for the monster who had done the killing. She was silent in the car, silent as they sped through the sleepy streets, silent as she closed her eyes and feigned ignorance. Victoria Lash tried to talk to her, but the words fell on deaf ears. Their motel rooms were small, but Scully had a queen sized bed that she would share with Judith, plus the hugs and comfort of a mother. The little girl stayed close to her, hands clutching her shirt and head burying into her stomach. Mulder picked her up and carried her into the room as Scully forced Lash to go home. "Look, Victoria. . .we know you want to help, but Mulder and I. . .we have a rhythm, a pattern. We know when something is wrong because we know each other. Your presence would upset that balance. Judith is easy enough to handle, and we can protect her without having to worry about protecting you too." Lash stilled her replies, shaking her head. "I know what Agent Mulder thinks this thing is. An alien monster with claws, birthed in Phoenix. I know all this, but it still hasn't registered. I don't think it ever will. Please. . .please tell me this isn't true." Scully glanced back to the motel, her eyes watchful and wary. "It's true," she said finally, and turned on her heel. Lash watched her close the room door, effectively shutting her out. She hadn't been allowed on the inside, nor was she clued in, but she understood all too much. Something was going on, soemthing bigger than one little girl and her dead family. The mother. Lash had to finish up the paperwork, set about explaining to the state and to all the officials that would be coming. Her night was far from over. ====== I watch her slip out of the jeans, pulling on her pajama bottoms, then she thinks again and puts the jeans back on. Her hands are nervous and twitching like frightened birds. She strokes my hair as I lay down in her lap, and her eyes are on the door. Mulder walks in and sits on the edge of the bed, his gun held in one hand down by his thigh, carefully pointed away from us and toward the door. Just in case. He believes me, she believes me. They know it's after me now. It doesn't make me feel much better, but I'm safe with them. They know how to kill it, they know what to do. Mother never did know what to do, and Robbie was barehanded. It killed Mother, and it wants to kill me. It *is* going to kill me. I can feel it watching. "Judith, do you want to sleep?" I look at his Madeline and smile softly, then tunnel under the covers, knowing that I can feel safe with them. Even if it is watching. "Don't leave," I say and cuddle up to her legs, holding tightly and closing my eyes. I can feel her foot arching under mine and I smile, wanting to laugh. She wiggles around, trying to make me smile now, and I look up at her, wishing so badly that she had been my Mother and that she would take me home, far far far from this. I ache. Oh God, I ache. And then I begin to cry. Like thunderstorms raging against the helpless garden we planted two years ago, my tomatoes are beaten to the ground and my strawberries are crushed beneath the weight of raindrop-sorrow. I feel their arms around me, and it is no better than the plastic we covered the plants with before the storm. ====== Scully was holding the girl tightly when she heard the first sound. A thwack of a body hitting the window. When she heard it, she screamed tight and barely controlled, her fear spiking. Her arms clenched around the crying child and glanced to Mulder. He was walking to the window, his gun held out and steady as a rock, face closed off. She grabbed Judith and pulled her back to the wall, covering the child's body with her own as much as possible. If it broke through the window, the glass would spray. . . "Mulder," she hissed and he waved a hand to let her know he'd heard. He couldn't take his eyes off the window. "If it comes in, the glass. . ." "Let's hope it doesn't," he said. Judith was shaking in her arms, but completely silent. Scully was ready to clap a hand over her mouth in case she got a fit of crying again, but so far, she was mute. Her cheek was pressed to Scully's chest and her body wrapped in Scully's arms, knees pulled up to protect the girl's back. Edging forward, Mulder grasped the edge of the curtains with one finger, licking his lips and holding his gun ready. Everything fell apart. The window shattered, something landed on his chest, his gun went off, Judith screamed. Scully scuttled into the corner, then grabbed her weapon, her hand shaking as she rose from behind the bed, Judith tucked safely behind her. She saw a blur of motion then felt the screaming pain, shudders wracking her body as she fired, and fired, and fired. Mulder's face came into view and she was on the floor beside the bed, next to the wall, the thing somewhere, gone, for now. Judith was clutched in his arms and his weapon was still in his hand, trained on the floor now. "Scully," he said tensely, and she realized she had passed out at some point; blood was slick under her back, pain inched down her side. She moved to get up, felt the rush of blood again, then the dizzying sensation. Mulder grabbed her arm as she moved to the bed, his eyes in tight orbs of fear. "Scully, you're all ripped up." She blinked and looked down at her side, saw the shreds of her T-shirt and skin mixed like confetti. The blood was slow and thick, so she wasn't too afraid. "We need to get you to a doctor." "I am a doctor," she hissed and bit her lip to keep from crying out in pain. "Madeline, please," Judith said, scrambling down to sit beside her on the bed. "I'm okay. . .well, not okay, but I will be. Get the bag of medicine from my carryon, Mulder." He turned away, rifling through her bag for the kit of medical supplies she always brought. When he handed it to her, she shook her head and he realized she was weaker than she let on. "Get out the rolls of guaze. You're gonna have to do this." He blanched, his face suddenly white as death, but he pulled out the strips of thick, woven cloth, moving Judith aside so he could reach his partner. Her lips were pressed tightly together to ward off the pain, and her hands clenched in fists at her sides. "How bad is it, Scully?" he said. She shook her head. "Mm, pretty bad. . .not deadly, but bad." He nodded and followed her instructions closely, wrapping her side as tight and choking as possible, ignoring her wince and gasps of pain. The surgical tape kept it in place and he tied it off too, just in case. "Did. . .did it bite me?" she said softly. He shrugged. "Don't know. It flew through the window just as I lifted the curtain. It scratched me pretty good, then sort of jumped off my chest and went for you. I think you shot it, Scully." He winked and she tried to smile back. "Then what?" "It kind of disappeared. You wrestled a bit with it, then fired again and it left. . .through the window. Judith's okay. I'm just bleeding a bit-" "Your face. . .all that glass. . ." "It's okay." "No, I need to make sure nothing got in your eyes." "Scully. . ." he breathed, shaking his head in amazement. "I'm doing better. . .I promise. . ." she said, struggling to sit up against the headboard. He sat next to her, letting Judith curl into his side as Scully pushed away his hands. "Come h. . ." Her eyes rolled back and she slumped into his arms, even as she tried to give him orders. Judith gasped as Mulder grabbed for her, the dark, crusted blood on her shirt sticking to his hands. Her forehead came to rest on his shoulder and he could feel her breath caressing his neck. "She's okay, Judith. Just a bit too tired to be moving around." "Why is she tired?" "She's lost some blood, and she's been faced with something she doesn't want to believe in." Judith frowned, not really understanding his words. She watched his Madeline sleep against his shoulder, her white bandage like a flag. "I'm sorry. It's my fault." "No, Judith. It's not your fault. . .not at all." She frowned and reached out to touch the Madeline's red hair and soft skin. "Wake up, Madeline. . .wake up," she whispered. Scully's eyes flickered and she moaned into Mulder's shoulder. "Scully?" he said softly. "Hmm. . .ah!" Her head jerked suddenly, panic filling her eyes as she looked around, waiting for something to jump out and attack her. "Where'd it go?" He shook his head and refused to let her sit up. "It's gone for now. It'll be back, that's for sure." "We have to-" "No. Scully. *We're* not doing anything. You're going to rest before you pass out again, got it?" "You're bleeding. . ." "It's okay. I brushed all the glass out. It doesn't hurt. Judith's right here, and she's going to make sure you stay on the bed." Judith smiled at her and pressed a hand to her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Madeline. I didn't mean to let it happen." Scully's resolve melted and she shook her head, letting Mulder lean her back on the bed. "It's not your fault, sweetheart. I'm okay. I'll rest here for a little bit, then help Mulder." He didn't say anything because he knew she would do more harm to herself trying to fight him than if he just went ahead and let her. Judith stayed by her side and Mulder crept back to the window, carefully looking out to the dark night. One hour before dawn and he wasn't sure if they'd make it. "We're going to have to stay in my room, Scully. There's a gaping hole. . ." She nodded and he helped her up, swinging her arm around his shoulder when she pitched forward. Scully struggled to stand on her own, then gave in as he helped her to the connecting door. Once Mulder had her on the far side of the bed, he locked the doors and pulled back the curtains. "We should get. . .wood or something to bar the window." Scully licked her lip, thinking furiously. "Who's. . .who's going out there, Mulder?" He frowned. "I will. You can't walk on your own." "But. . .Mulder. . ." She didn't want him out there on his own, but neither was she sure of the safety in the room, not after what had just happened. If it were only her, she wouldn't mind, but Judith needed to be protected. "You've got your weapon right here. . ." he said, and tucked it into her grip. "Just. . .be careful." He nodded and smiled, then saluted her, heading for the door. Scully pulled Judith into her arms and carefully avoided her wounded side. It looked as if it had just been nicked, and Scully knew she'd be okay, but it still hurt. It took thirty minutes of frantic terror, but when Mulder came back into the motel room, she was too relieved to even breathe. Her heart was thudding painfully at her ribs and Judith was clutching her hand too tightly. "I got enough for the door too. . .Scully, we're not going to escape this thing. We have to be ready to kill it." She nodded, frustrated with her limited ability. She stood slowly, then eased over to the window where Mulder was struggling to place the boards. A hand to the left side kept it from falling and she leaned heavily against the wall as he nailed it across the window. "The motel owner is going to hate us," she whispered. "I really don't care. . .I'd rather stay alive at this point." She smiled and moved so he could nail in her side. The wood was raw and splintered, catching under her skin with teeth like slivers of glass. After twenty minutes on her feet, helping him nail them in, she was about ready to drop to the floor. Her head was swimming in a haze of pain and bloodloss. Shock was setting in about an hour too late. She almost fainted, but suddenly Mulder was holding her up, catching her and pulling her close to his chest. "Scully?" "Ah. . .give me a minute," she whispered, closing her eyes. He held her tightly, carefully avoiding her wounded side and the thick bandage wrapping it. Her body settled against his chest and he stroked her hair, his chin resting snugly on top of her head. He would give her hours like this. After a moment, she sighed softly and kissed his chest, bringing her arms up around his neck. She almost seemed to hang on him, weak in his grasp and trembling. "We're going to be okay, Scully. I promise." She smiled softly and closed her eyes for just a moment, gathering her strength. Mulder pushed her back to the bed and settled her against the headboard, pulling her gun from its holster and placing it in her slightly trembling hand. "As soon as we get this thing, we're going to the hospital, Scully." "I'm okay, Mulder." She looked up to meet his eyes, but froze, fingers clawed on her weapon. "Mulder," she hissed, and he slowly turned around. Eyes were watching them through the slats of the window, a long nail tap, tap, tapping against the glass. Judith scrambled up to cower next to Scully, hanging on her arm. "Judith, you can't hang on me like this. I have to be able to move quickly," she said softly. Mulder took Judith's hand and led her to the corner of the room next to the bed, the same position she'd been in before, when the alien had attacked them earlier. "Mulder." He turned around and the window was empty again. "Where'd he go?" His voice was panicked, and only when he spoke did he realize how frightened he truly was. What made him think that they would be spared? This thing had murdered people. . .twenty or more all total. Why was he so confident they would make it out of this alive? Judith clutched at his shoulders, whimpering. "It's okay, sweetie. It's okay. Just stay right here. I've got to help Scully." He moved to stand in front of Scully, bracing himself against the bed with a strong stance and a wary eye. He would not be caught off guard this time. The door wasn't barred yet; Scully had gotten dizzy and they'd stopped. The window was covered with wood, the slats admitting only faint spots of light from the motel sign shining outside. The early morning darkness was still clutching the horizon with claws of tenacity. Fifteen minutes passed and he felt his body crashing, the adrenaline high coming down. His hands were starting to shake, his legs felt like Jell-o. Scully's hand caused him to jump and she pulled him back, her eyes on the door and not him. "Sit down while you crash, Mulder. I can watch the door." He collapsed on the bed next to her, heaving from the overload, his mind scrambled. The door was still, the night pressed in on their room. Nothing happened. "We can't be on edge all night," she said. He cradled his head in his hands, his weapon balanced on his knee and the safety on. She was watching the door, darting her eyes to the window, fingers clenching on the bedspread. Her side was a painful drumbeat of pain, and it clouded her eyes. Maybe the gash in her side wasn't as 'okay' as she had thought. Maybe she needed someone to look at it. For now, though, they waited. ====== Judith and Mulder were asleep when she heard it. A scratch on the door, like nails on a chalkboard, and she was instantly alert, shaking Mulder's shoulder and hissing his name. He came awake with a startled grunt but was immediately aware, his hand reaching for his weapon. The door shuddered under an attack of body weight, and they blocked the bed with their bodies, hiding Judith behind them. There was another pause, and then the wood frame split as the creature slammed into it. "Mulder," she whispered. "Uh?" His word was more a grunt than anything, his concentration so intense, his eyes were narrow slits. "There's another one." "What?!" He turned to see her staring at the window, where a set of long slitted eyes was watching them with unfeeling cruelty. "Oh God. . ." Hell crashed in on them then, the door flying open as the first alien tumbled inside, and the wood over the window split in two from the force of the second creature's blows. Scully scrambled back, bumping into Mulder as she fired. The first came at her, long nails sliding out of thin, bony fingers, the horror of its existence almost undoing her. She fired again, panic sliding through her skin like claws, Judith's hands clutching at her shirt. She heard a scream and quivered, not willing to take her eyes off the creature advancing on her to check on Mulder. A gurgling of blood and breath made her want to cry, but she continued to fire, even as her bullets had no effect. Green pus oozed from gashes in the alien's chitin-like body and within seconds, it was gone. "Scully!" She heard the yell, then felt the air knocked from her body as she went down, a tangle of limbs and slick skin and a shrill scream that made her bones curl. She pushed up and away, holding tightly to her belly as blood leaked between her fingers. Shock was shutting down her mind, but she forced her body to the door, away from the scrabbling claws raking her legs. Mulder's weapon went off behind her and she controlled her panic to turn around, looking for Judith, for her partner. Mulder was wrestling with one of them, his back to the wall and his muscles straining to keep the deadly claws from his face. His gun was somewhere on the floor and the other creature was stalking Judith. She raised her shaking hand and fired, drawing its attention back to her. "Run, Judith. Dammit, run!" she screamed, pushing away from the door to give the child room. She felt the whistle of breath on her neck and kicked back, landing a solid foot into the thing's gut. It doubled, then pounced again off-balance, landing on her legs and bringing her down. She twisted in its grasp and raised her weapon, then squeezed off a shot without really looking where she aimed. Another round blasted from the barrel and the eyes in front of her exploded in a shudder of green and black, raining her with slime. She began shaking, the thing twitching on top of her, until a sickened sound from Mulder made her scramble to her feet. "Mulder!" She raised her gun, aiming for the thing's face, trying to get a bead without some part of Mulder in the way. They were too close, the shot too dangerous. She swore and launched herself on the creature's thin back, causing them all to topple over onto the floor. Mulder's eyes were slitted with pain, his hand a shredded pulp of flesh, his breathing like labored sucking heaves. He flashed wildly to her face, then rolled the monster away. He knew they wouldn't make it. The other had been a newborn, obviously, without the strength to fight for long, and this one was battling him into nothing. Then it would get Scully; he couldn't let that happen. He searched the floor for his gun with one hand, the shredded one used to fend off the thing's long wicked teeth, feeling his sides and legs like dead weight beneath him. "Mulder, get the fuck away!" His head snapped back to see her crawling on the floor toward him, her face bloody and drenched in black residue, one hand clutching his gun, the only weapon she'd been able to find. "Shoot," he gasped, eyes rolling back even as he begged her to take the shot, even if he was in the way. Scully aimed high, causing the thing to twist in her direction and come flying, dragging her down to the floor before she knew it had even turned. She was on her stomach, writhing like a pinned insect and trying to gain enough leverage to fire at the thing's face. She got her wish with a painful ripping, as the claw slid between her ribs and the force of the blow turned her over. Gasping, her lungs punctured, she fired. Blood bubbled between her lips as darkness descended over her sight like a stage curtain. ====== ====== She wouldn't stop shaking. He didn't know what to do, lie there still or get up, moving his broken bones and bloodied body to get her? He closed his eyes and tried to block off the pain. "Mulder?" He opened his eyes again and she was still there, like a bloody angel of death, her hair hanging in black clumps around frightened brown eyes. "Fox. . .there's something wrong with Madeline. . ." Mulder jerked to reality with painful awareness, screaming when his ribs flashed and crashed through his system. Ah. . .God. . .hell. . .he was going to faint. . . "She's got bubbles coming out of her chest." Mulder suddenly knew nothing of the pain, only the very real possibility that Scully was dying, God, no, and he was lying there like a child, pouting at a few bloody scratches. He crawled over Judith, who was still trembling, and over to Scully. She was shivering as well, her hands clenched in the carpet, knuckles white. Her face was blue with asphyxiation, and he panicked for a moment before training kicked in. He grabbed the sheet that was trailing the floor and ripped a corner off, then plugged the bubbling place in her chest with it. Breath sucked loud and wheezing into her throat and down to her lungs, the color returning almost immediately. She had a punctured lung, he knew, and probably worse. "Judith, did you call an ambulance?" "No. No. How, how, how do I do that?" "Never mind. Hand me the phone, okay?" "It's broken. You blowed it up with your gun." "Any phone, Judith. A cellular, anything. . .in my jacket pocket, there, see?" She nodded and scrambled forward, then handed the phone she found in his suit coat pocket. Mulder dialled quickly, giving his badge number and an account of the injuries. The operator kept him on the line and explained what to do for Scully. When he hung up, she was covered in the blanket, with his hand pressed against the swatch of sheet as if his touch alone kept her breathing. It was partly true. He laid down next to her, his pain riding over him in waves, the blood from his shredded hand still flowing in sticky clumps, his head swollen from a beating to the floor. His eyes closed, his mind wavered in and out of consciousness. Judith sat beside him and pressed her hand over his on Scully's chest, giving his battered body the permission to slip away. ====== When I wake up, there are lots of lights and a smiling face, but no one I know. "Hello, Judith. You're going to be just fine." I don't know where I am. . .oh, a hospital? And the motel room before that, the guns going off, the black blood, the monsters attacking Madeline and Mulder. I stayed on the floor in the corner, far away from it all. "Your friends are okay too, Judith. They're in another part of the hospital. Since you're basically all better now, would you like to visit them for a little bit?" "Oh yes!" I jump up and reach for the doctor's hand; his white coat is nice and stiff, still new. His face is old and like a grandfather. He has little pens in his coat pocket that stick out as he walks. I can smell smoke on him, just like Robbie in the evenings after dinner when he came back in the house after his break. His hand is tough and leathery in mine. For some reason, I think I've seen him at the house before. "Where are they?" I ask, peering down the hallway. My stomach feels funny and I have a bandage on my hand, but I guess I am better. Nothing hurts too much and this doctor is leading me to my rescuers, my Madeline and Mulder. "They're just down here, little Judith." "Okay. I want to hug them and say thank-you for saving me. Did you know they saved me?" I glance at him, smiling, waiting for him to smile back down on me. He looks down but his face is not nice, and his smile is more like a grimace. "Yes, I know." I jerk my hand, trying to escape his grip, and scramble backwards, screaming. His hands reach out for me and I see those monsters in his face, the slanted eyes, the black of death in them. I run, my feet bare and slapping the cold tile as the hallway twists and rolls under my feet. The entire floor is trying to throw me back to the monster and I scream again, crying. And I wake up for real this time. Hands are holding me tightly, a soft voice murmuring. It's Vickie, her chair pushed up next to my bed and her lips pressed to my cheek. "It's okay, Judith. You're safe now, safe." I breathe in her smell, of summer and sleepy dogs and flowered perfume. She holds me tightly and strokes the hair from my face, rocking me back and forth. "Someone's here to see you, darlin'." I tense and my head comes up. Standing in the doorway is Mulder, his hand in a thick cast and his foot in a cast and his head all bandaged, but hanging on despite the pain in his face. "Fox!" He shakes his head slowly, grimly, then sits back in the wheelchair and lets the nurse roll him into my room. He takes my hand and kisses it as he gets to the bed, his lips like rough sandpaper, but still, it's nice. He's okay. "Where's Madeline?" I ask, crawling from the bed and into his lap. My hands are bandaged because of the glass I had crawled over in the motel room, but it doesn't stop me from hugging him tightly. He winces and I ease away. "Your belly hurts, Fox?" He pats my head and smiles. "Hm. Not too bad. Just a few stitches and some tender ribs." "I've had ribs before. Memphis is famous for ribs, barbecue, did you know that?" He laughs and clutches his side, then shakes a finger at me. "Stop making me laugh, sweetheart. That hurts. These ribs aren't the eating kind." "Where's Madeline?" His face drops and he leans forward until our noses touch, his hands soft on my shoulders. "She's very sick, Judith. She's still in bed, asleep." No. No. "Like Mother?!" Mulder fights for words, his mouth opening and closing, eyes stormy with tears. "She's asleep like your mother was, yes. But no one can hurt her, Judith, nothing can get to her." "Is she gonna die too?" His fingers jump into my hair and thread through the dark tresses, his hands soft and smooth. "No. No, she's going to be just fine, sweetheart. Just fine. Do you want to see her?" I pause, remembering my dream. But this is Mulder, and he saved me before. . . "Yes." "Let's go then," he says and Vickie stands up to push us down the hallway. ====== Mulder gripped her hand and urged his partner to open her eyes, just enough to show Judith that she was okay. Scully had woken up about three hours ago, but she'd been foggy and in a haze of pain medication. Her eyes flickered open and Judith crawled up on her bed, framing her face with chubby hands. "Madeline? Madeline? Are you okay?" Bright, too bright, blue eyes shot back beams of light to the dark ones staring into hers, and a hand lifted to touch the brown hair, but dropped back to the bed with a heavy sigh. "Mm. . .Jude. . .?" "Yup, it's me, Madeline. Robbie called me Jude too. I like that name. You're okay right? Fox is right here too, and he said you're okay, but I don't know. You look so pale." She gave a ghost of a smile, her lips like frozen ice cubes. "I'm good, Jude." "Good. You saved me. And Fox. You saved us both." Scully could almost feel the wince from the man sitting at her side. "It's Mulder, Judith. Mulder." "Naw. Fox." The girl touched Scully's eyelids and closed them gently, giving her a soft kiss on the lips. "Sleep, Madeline." "Okay, sweetheart. . ." Her voice trailed off and she slipped into sleep. Mulder knew that tomorrow, she would not remember the exchange. She hadn't remembered the first time she had woken up, nor the second. Mulder pulled the child from the bed and tucked her into his lap again. "The Keys are here for you," Vickie said from the doorway. "Do I get to stay with them again?" "Yes, for awhile anyway. Until you're adopted." Her eyes dimmed and Mulder ached to take her home with him, but he knew it would never work. Hadn't Scully tried to adopt Emily, and hadn't she been refused? His request wouldn't happen either, and he knew it. An FBI Agent with no life and no stable home environment was not a candidate, much less a single man with a porno collection. "Come with me, Judith." The child held out her arms and Vickie picked her up from Mulder's lap, holding her close. "Say bye to Mulder." "Bye-bye." Mulder smiled and said good-bye, then watched her leave the room. He turned back to Scully's bed and took her hand, waiting. Maybe he had been stretching the truth a bit, maybe he couldn't guarantee that Scully was going to make it, but he wanted it to be true. She was doing very well, better than anyone had hoped. One side of her face was bruised and the swelling had gone down some, but still looked rather painful. Her ribs were taped, her side stitched tightly from hip bone to breast, and one knee was in a cast. Her lips had been busted, but were pale and thick from the medicine they slathered over her face. Some kind of antibiotic cream. The black blood from the aliens had burned the skin along her arms and face, and in dribbles down her shirt. She looked like hell. She looked better than she had two days ago. Her lung had been punctured, but that only took eight hours of surgery. . . "Scully?" he whispered. Her eyes were flickering and her hand came to his cheek. "Scully?" "Mulder?" "Hey you. . ." She smiled with a tiny lift of her lips, then opened her eyes. "Mulder. . .are you okay?" "Yeah. You've woken and asked me that about four times now." "Oh." "Don't worry. You're getting better. No infections after surgery, and no problems with the stitches in your side. Just don't move around so much, okay?" "Mm, try not to." "Good. You feeling okay?" "Not too much." He laughed despite the honesty in her voice and leaned in close to kiss her forehead, in the only spot not covered in either gauze or medicine. She lifted her hand and touched his cheek, faintly and softly, but still a touch. "Well, this is the most honest you've ever been. What are they giving you? Because I want more of it." She smiled again and gazed into his eyes with a kind of desperation that was frightening. She clenched his hand and rolled her head to see him better. "Mulder?" "Yeah?" "You saved us. . ." His eyebrow raised and he shook his head. "As much as I'd love to claim that one, sadly no. You killed them both, Scully." "Mulder?" "Yeah?" "I don't remember too much about it." He froze, reading the denial in her eyes, the fogginess in her look. "What do you mean?" "It's gone. The memory. I don't remember the face, just the eyes. Dark and slitted." "They were aliens, Scully." She closed her eyes painfully. "I don't know. . ." "Scully! They were. You saw the exact same things that I did. The aliens. . .please please don't say you don't believe me. . ." She sighed and opened her eyes. "Maybe it will come back to me." He gaped at her, feeling bereft, alone. She had abandoned him again, almost willfully. She didn't want to believe in the aliens, and her mind had conveniently erased it from her memory. "Scully. . ." "Mulder, I believe you. Aliens. I remember accepting it. I do. I believe you. I just don't have a clear picture of it. If you called on me to testify, I couldn't." For some reason, that wasn't nearly as important as it should have been. She had accepted the aliens, but she did not remember them specifically. "Mulder. . ." "Just get better, Scully. It's okay." "Mulder." This time her voice sounded weak, as if she was falling back asleep. He closed his eyes, refusing her too blue eyes. "Mulder, I love you, please. . ." His eyes snapped open, hand clenched reflexively. "What?" Her eyes were drooping but she struggled to hang on, squeezing his hand tightly. "Love you. . .Mulder." He grinned and shook his head. "What is it about hospitals and us doped up on painkillers, huh?" "Believe me. . .?" she whispered. "Yeah. Do you believe me?" "Mm. . .yeah." He grinned and pressed his lips to hers, catching the scent of antibiotic cream and guaze and her hair. He laid his head next to hers and closed his eyes. "Sleep, Scully. You'll feel better in the morning." "Yes. But I won't feel differently," she whispered. ====== "Jude was adopted by a family today, Scully." Her eyes brightened and she stood, just a bit shaky on her feet, but standing. She hugged him tightly when he walked over to her, then brushed her lips over his. "The Keys?" "No, but she's all right with leaving them because guess who her adoptive parents are?" "Who?" she said, frowning. "Victoria Lash and her husband, Mike." Scully grinned and sat back down in the chair, feeling her energy draining. "That's great. I'm glad." "Me too. How's your side?" "Better. It's not infected anymore. Whatever was coating those claws. . . I don't know. It's wreaking havoc with my immune system, but not yours. I still don't understand that." Mulder glanced around their office, gathering his strength for the next question, knowing that it shouldn't matter, but that it did. "Have you remembered anything else?" She grinned sheepishly and took his hand. "I remember cursing at you to get out of the way. . ." He smiled and shook his head, then kissed her palm, bringing it to rest on his cheek. "Any faces?" "No, Mulder. . ." She was getting testy, so he quickly searched for another subject, keeping her hand tight in his. "When's your mom coming?" "In two days. She's says it's not fair that you should have to stay and look after me all the time." "Is she going to get sick of me hanging around all week?" Her surprise shot her eyebrows up and he smiled, smoothing a finger along her brow. "You're staying?" "Where would I go, Scully? I want to be with you. Besides, what's your mom going to do if you fall again? She can't pick you up, even as small as you are." Scully frowned. The past week had been hell on her independence, and she had spent the first week trying to assert it, only to collapse from exhaustion, first in her bathroom, then in the kitchen. She was better about not overexerting her weak muscles and pained leg, but she did it every so often. "Scully, if you don't want me to stay, just say so-" "No. No, I want you to stay," she said, shaking her head. "I'll tell your mom my apartment's being sprayed for brown recluse spiders. The poison's deadly. She wouldn't make me go home, right?" "No, she wouldn't. But I don't think we have to lie to her." "So. . .what are you going to tell her?" he asked, looking for some kind of definition to whatever their relationship was now. "That you pick me up when I fall." The layers of meaning to her phrase were written in her eyes, and he leaned forward to brush his lips along her mouth. Her skin was soft again, and smooth with lotion and powdered make-up. Her lips tasted like sweet tea and lemons, and her teeth clashed against his tongue with a kind of thrilling posession. "Mmm, what's that for?" she murmured. "For being alive." "I think I like that." Grinning, he straightened up again, flipping shut the file folder on her desk, then gathering it up. "Let's quit for the day, Scully. Go to your apartment and veg out for awhile." "Veg out?" "Yeah. Forget the differences in our immune reactions, forget what this might mean about the virus and the cure I gave you and the gestation period for these things. Let's go home and forget everything." She smiled and raised a hand for him to help her up. "Sounds good, Mulder. You gonna make dinner?" "Ahh. . .we'll order in Chinese. . ." He took her hand and pulled her in close to him, smelling her perfume and soap scent with abandon, grateful to have her by his side. She was still tense though, and had been ever since they'd gotten back to DC. "What's the matter, Scully?" he sighed. "Mulder. . .if we're all made up of the same DNA, aliens and us and Gibson and these creatures. . .how can any of it be extraterrestrial?" "Can't you shut your mind off for just tonight?" he said softly. "No. I still think about it. What are they doing? What's going on with the virus and the project? We're all linked, in the most basic ways. With hydrogen and oxygen and carbon, all those elements. But this goes beyond the stuff that galaxies and stars and people are made of. This goes to the very information in our bodies, the information that directs everything." "Scully?" "It scares me, Mulder. Honestly, this terrifies me. I hate thinking about it, but it's there. What if they know how to introduce something of their DNA into ours to change it? Make us all into mindless aliens, into creatures like those that attacked us?" He paused, thinking about the words on the bathroom mirror. "Please stop us," he whispered. "Yes. Yes, exactly. Is that what they were? Not simply creatures who gestated in less than 12 hours, but people that had been *changed*? An autopsy would show our own DNA, but who knows? They have DNA that is inactive in us, the remnants. Were those two creatures aliens, or were they people that had been morphed. . .changed?" Mulder shivered. "People. People who had changed into something they couldn't stop, even though their consciences, their souls, begged them to. They wrote those messages and begged for someone to kill them. To free them from that life." Scully nodded, shivering now and wrapping her arms around her body. Mulder grabbed her roughly and hugged her, squeezing his eyes shut. "If they were changed, then whatever that blood, that oil, was. . .it could have changed us, right? That's why you're so obsessed with the details of our immune systems' response. That's why you study those reports day and night. Because, somehow, you think we escaped the change." She nodded. "I had the cure. You. . .you had whatever they gave you in that Russian gulag. You said they put the black oil in you, but you don't have the symptoms. So they must have given you the cure too. It's also probably why the bees didn't make you. . .make you sick like me." Mulder sat back down on her desk, almost shaking. "Why didn't you tell me this. . .this two weeks ago? When you started in on all this?" "Because. . .because I didn't know what I was looking for and I've done this too often to you. Made you think I had proof, or hope for you, and then nothing. I wanted to be sure." "Are you sure now?" "No. But it's the closest I'm going to get. It's my way of showing you that. . .that I believe." He gave her a tough grin, then rubbed a finger across her lips. She shivered and glanced down to the folder on her desk detailing the tests they'd run on her and Mulder, plus the leftovers of the corpses. Because she had aimed her weapon at their eyes, there wasn't much to piece together on the face. But she knew, in her heart, what she'd been faced with that early morning. Aliens. They were here. They were part of some horrible, inconceivable plot that she was only just now beginning to understand. She wished she didn't. She had told Mulder the truth; it terrified her. "Come home with me, Scully. Let me help you forget." She smiled and followed him down the hallway and to the elevator. "All right. As long as I remember it again in the morning." He shook his head and gave her a soft smile, looking at her standing so small and strong beside him. Her hair was soft with the light highlighting the red, and her hands played with her cane as they waited on the elevator. He leaned forward and kissed her on the lips, moving his hand to caress her side, wanting to remind her that he was there. "Don't get fresh, Mulder," she said and pushed him onto the elevator. "Remember, I'm made of the same stuff as galaxies and stars and alien monsters. . ." He grinned and took her hand. "I'll take that chance." ====== end all adios RM